Page 53 of Written in the Charts

Evan placed his hand on my hips as he rocked his body back and forth against mine. One would have thought I was a cadaver by my lack of response to his thrusting. His hand found my warm center, and he inserted his fingers inside me.

“God, you feel amazing. You’re so wet,” he murmured.

I kept my eyes glued to the wall. The last thing I was going to do was give him the satisfaction of a moan. Evan fingered me for a few minutes before he removed his hand from between my thighs and placed them on both sides of my cheeks as he turned my head around. Before I could protest, he covered my mouth with his and inserted his tongue between my lips. He kissed me hard as I tried to push him off me. All I wanted was for him to hurry up and come so I could go to sleep.

His fingers smoothed over my skin as he pumped profusely. He was in the zone, and it wouldn’t be long before he finished himself off. I closed my eyes and counted the seconds before it was over.

“Damn, why do you have to feel sogood,” he moaned.

Just hurry up already. I cut my eyes at the wall. The extra commentary wasn’t needed, but I didn’t say anything. The way he worked his hips was stirring my insides against my will. He knew how to make me want him even when there was a cold separation between us. I moaned, letting my head arch back as he drove into me.

“That’s it, baby, get into it.” His fingers returned to my pussy, massaging my clit and swirling around in my juices.

He pumped harder. Faster. Deeper. I pushed my backside up against him. I wanted more. I buried my face in the pillow as his dick rubbed against my inner walls. Why did he do this to me, make me want him when he’d been nothing but hurtful? My body ached for orgasm now, and I wouldn’t be satisfied without it.

“Ooh... I’m about to come.”

Not yet, I thought, clenching around him. His girth slid in and out of me, rubbing my insides and teasing me to climax.

“Yes,” I hissed.

“Come with me, baby,” he begged.

I rocked against him until I let out a scream that incited his orgasm. His chest shook against my back for a few seconds, my convulsions meeting his, and once he stopped, I put the distance I had originally formed between us back and pulled my nightgown back down over my hips. It was awkward and cold. The silence between us and the loneliness were still present. He didn’t even try to hold me.

I’d done this before—let him initiate sex with me as a means to help him with stress relief. But it had never been this bad. He’d never just used me. I felt Evan roll over on his back as he huffed and breathed heavily. I pulled the comforter over my head and let my tears finally fall. Something was really wrong. He was never that cold during sex. He’d always at least tried.

What had I done wrong this time?

CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE

Evan

I shoved my phone back in my pocket after having called Gypsy for the fifth time today and her not answering. She had no excuse this time. It was a Thursday evening at closing time, and she hadn’t answered. Finals were over. She’d finished her last one today, and still, she was ignoring me. I didn’t even have to go to the office to know she was there with him. She’d been at the office with him every day for three weeks now, including Sundays, telling me she had to study.

I slugged the punching bag hard, slamming my fists into it over and over. My wrists hurt, but I didn’t let up. The bag took the brunt of my frustration with Gypsy, and the folks around me seemed to notice. They didn’t come near me, letting me beat out my anger in peace. All of them, that is, except Serah, who was always on my case. She held the bag for me, readjusting it every so many punches because I beat it right out of her grasp.

“Fuck, Evan, you’re going to hurt yourself or me.” She danced with me, keeping the bag in place so I could slug away at it.

If I had placed a picture on that bag of that damn doctor’s face, I couldn’t have hit it any harder. That guy, my mother, the guy Misty cheated on me with, Misty herself—Gypsy. All of my rage, all my pain, every ounce of frustration I’d endured for the past twenty-four months was being unleashed through my fists, and Serah was taking a beating each time the bag slammed into her chest. But she held it like a pro, and I’d have to thank her for that later.

“Whoa, whoa, we need a break.” She held her hand up as I bounced on my toes. “Let’s get some water.” Her gestures beckoned me away from the bag, but I’d have rather just kept pounding away at it. I’d bottled up some strong emotions in the past few weeks, and this was the healthiest way I could think of for letting them out.

She led me to the water cooler and got me a plastic cup, which I chugged and she refilled a few times. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms either, but I could at least tolerate her. I had gotten to the point of anger with Gypsy that I could no longer be in the same room with her without feeling like I was going to snap. So I’d been ignoring her the way she was me.

“Sit down,” Serah barked, plopping on the bench next to the water station. I joined her, but I would much rather have gone straight back to the bag. “Alright, Miller. I learned my lesson the hard way. You’re private. You don’t want people knowing your shit. I get that. But this is killing you.”

I scowled, knowing I was that obvious. I knew it was the reason no one would come near me with a ten-foot pole except Serah, who had a death wish or something. There were at least thirty other people in this gym, most of whom I knew and had interacted with, but not one of them had offered to hold that bag. So I had slugged away at it for fifteen minutes before Serah came in. Part of me wondered whether they had even called her to settle me down. Everyone knew we were friends.

“I’m more of an action type of guy. Okay? I’d rather just go back to hitting things.” I punched my palm and shook my head. I stood and headed back for the bags. A few more recruits had come into the gym, and I wanted to get back at it so they didn’t take my spot.

Serah followed me, though slowly, as if reluctant to dive into this mess I was swimming around in. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t want to be drowning, either. She had no obligation to worry about me or try to make me feel better. In fact, I’d been so rude to her that she didn’t even have to be my friend anymore, but there she was, following me around like a lost puppy and wanting to care for me. It was just friendship. I knew that. She’d made it clear from the start that I wasn’t her type, but she was there through all my shit. I’d never had anyone else be that way for me except my mother—who I could do without.

I laid in on that bag before she even got to grab it, and it swung wildly, taking her for a bit of a ride when she tried to hang on. I gave it a second for her to settle in behind it and started hammering away. They called me Hammer at the farm because of my skills as a farrier, but this would do too.

“So, you’re having lady trouble again?” she shouted over the smacking sound of my gloves hitting the bag. I wanted to ignore her question, but I didn’t want to piss her off, and having a friend to talk to wouldn’t hurt.

“Yeah,” I snapped, letting a strong right hook loose. She shook, backing up a step, then braced herself for my left jab. “Major problems.” I let a few quick undercuts go, forcing the bag and Serah backward.

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