Page 32 of Craving the Player

“Look at me,” she growls, reaching towards me and scratching at my chest. “I’mnot just some faceless fuck.”

Ialmost freeze when she calls me out, completely aware of exactly what I’ve been doing. But Iignore her. Grinding my teeth some more, Isweep up some of her wetness and use it to rub circles around her swollen clit. It’sajackass thing to do—using her own body against her—but Idon’tlet myself feel guilty for it when she tightens up like aspring and her walls clamp down around me, pulsing as Icome right along with her.

“Fuck. Yes.” My thrusts become messy, muscles tighten and my vision becomes black around the edges as she milks every last drop of cum from me. Asmug smile threatens to pull at my mouth before Iswallow hard and blink twice, settling back down on earth.

Neither of us say anything as Ipull out and get off the bed. My thighs burn and my muscles stay tense, pissing me the fuck off. With atick in my jaw Ipull my damp clothes back on, keeping my back to her. It isn’tuntil Ipull out my phone to check the time that she speaks up.

“You’re areal piece of work. You know that, right?”

Her words strike anerve and my hands form fists at my sides. Ihave to focus on keeping my composure and not turning around to look at her. I’mnot sure what Iwould find if Idid. She doesn’tsound hurt or offended. Just angry and frustrated. But Idon'trisk it, even when continuing to ignore her has my stomach churning.

Iknow that she is right. Iknow that she didn’tdeserve to be fucked like that—like she didn’tmatter. But Idid it anyway. And she can hate me all she wants but Iknow it was the right thing to do, regardless of how brutally cruel it was.

“Oh, and you’re lucky I’mon birth control, dickbag,” she adds, each word laced with venom. Ifeel the colour drain from my face and my shoulders instantly sag with guilt.

I’ve never once had sex without acondom. I’msure there are quite afew in my wallet right now, too. Ijust didn’tfucking think about it in the moment. I’msuch atotal prick. Fuck.

Iclear my throat and grip my phone so tight Ifear it’ll snap in half. “Good. That’sgood.”

She scoffs before Ihear her get off the bed and the ensuite door slam shut, the lock clicking soon after.

Taking her storming off as exactly what it is—adismissal—Irun ahand through my hair and yank until my scalp burns. The shower starts and Ishove my phone in my pocket before leaving her house with agiant ball of regret in my stomach.

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