Page 58 of Retribution

“They’re not your shares! The studio is mine, let me live my life. You didn’t want to be with me, why do you need to continue to suck the life out of me?” I growl, the heat rises to my cheeks at the newfound confidence in my confrontation.

“Don’t think for one single second I’m going to let you keep it, I’ll see you in court, sweet.” He sneers.

And with that, he releases my arm and stalks away, my heart hammering through my chest. Standing here, I’m completely fixed to the spot, frustration and irritability pulsing to the point I can feel it in my eyeballs.

Storming through the building entrance to the apartment, I’m determined to put this to rest, I need to be relieved that what he’s saying isn’t true.

There’s no possible way for it to be true, is there?

Throwing my bag onto the counter top, I ferociously type on the computer, trying to locate the documentation for the studio deeds.

I pull up the eighty-page-long contract, unsure of where exactly it is I’m meant to find this kind of information. Scanning the pages, hundreds of terms and conditions blur my vision.

That’s when I see it.

Shareholders

Indie Thorne – 50%

Scott Lowrey – 50%

I let out a strained scream, smashing down on the keyboard with my clenched fists. Everything I’ve fucking worked for. Absolutely everything I’ve wanted my entire life, is about to be pulled right from under my feet. By the person I shared my bed with only weeks ago. A strangled sob escapes from my mouth as my body folds in on itself, the feeling of failure and loss of control overriding my sanity.

I withdraw to my bedroom, the bed, still unmade and the pillows, still lifeless. Throwing myself onto the bed, I lay, staring at the ceiling, allowing my body to shake and convulse with tears. My mouth dry and my throat hoarse, my cries now barely audible. The weather has taken a turn for the worst, the irony playing strings across my heart.

I don’t remember falling asleep, I’m still in the white sundress and the open curtains forecasting that it is late. My skin feels crusty, my eyes swollen as a reminder of the emotional trauma I’ve experienced.

Barely able to find the energy to pull me out of my slum, self-preservation being the only reason for doing so, I drag myself over to the bathroom. Turning on the shower faucet I take a stance in front of the mirror, analyzing my disheveled appearance.

The red rings around my eyes match perfectly with my crimson tinted nose, black mascara lines the expanse of my cheeks and down to my neck, as well as spreading into my hair, presumably from laying down. I splash water onto my face from the sink, trying to scrub away the freshly inked skin.

Removing my dress and underwear before stepping into the shower, I let the heat of it pierce holes through my skin as I hiss at the contact. I reach to adjust the temperature, before deciding against it. The feeling seemingly numbs the ongoing chaos in my head, finally allowing me a second to breathe without feeling like the world is impacting into my chest.

The water runs over my skin and I step further into it, individual sharp pellets now absorbing into each other as the heat numbs the surface of my skin. I close my eyes and inhale the steam, running my hands over my hair and down my neck, passing over my shoulder gently and smile at the pleasantry of it, when an image pops into my mind.

His blue eyes, his sultry demeanor and antagonistic nature awakens something deep within me. I continue across my chest tickling downwards until I pass over my left breast, goosebumps spreading from the contact and my nipples slowly begin to harden.

Reaching my other hand between my legs, I slightly widen my stance, the ache whirling my insides. He’s in here with me, I can smell the sandalwood spice, feel the current between us that heightens all of my senses, the air hot and heavy.

He pulls my hand away and replaces them with his own as I nod fiercely, biting my lip. His large hands begin to circle my peaked nipples, drawing a slow moan from my throat at the union between his skin and my sensitive spots. His lips crash onto my neck and pushes me backwards onto the wall, the coldness only translating further reactivity from my body.

One of his hands leaves my breast, whilst the other playfully tugs and rubs my nipple. It slowly trails lower, over my navel and cups my cunt eliciting a choke from me. He hums in approval, the slickness of my pussy agreeing with him. He sticks out his tongue and licks the side of my neck as I buck my hips closer to his hand, begging for him to relieve me of my darkest desires.

His index finger slips between my slit and I cry out at the sudden contact, his movements slow and teasing. He circles over my clit so slowly that its almost unbearable as his other hand continues to entertain my breasts, alternating between the two, ensuring ultimate pleasure. My greedy mind is already begging for him to fill me with his huge cock, knowing the orgasm that I am so desperately wanting is already close. My moans grow louder and hotter as he slips one finger inside of me.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. You’re so appetizing, so addictive,” his voice is possessed by the filthiest of demons, sparking an agonizing bliss to pool in my stomach.

I follow after the figure in the dark and I’m chasing him through the woods, unknown of the outcome. Begging for mercy, for him to let me live. I squirm under his touch, my yearning for him to release me from his trap, growing wild and frenzied.

“So fucking sinful,” he bites my neck, tipping me over the edge as his fingers curl and bury inside of me.

I drive into his hand and enter into my newfound euphoria, the explosive surge of my climax causing my knees to buckle whilst using my free hand to steady myself.

“Reed, fuck!” I cry out.

Writhing as he removes his hand from my now seeping pussy, I slump back against the wall, the shower washing away all my sins.

Peeling my eyes open, I look around the emptiness of the shower, shame filling my cheeks. The embarrassment and guilt seeps into my veins, extracting the arousal from my system instantaneously. I shut off the shower, not caring that I haven’t bothered to wash my hair and reach for a towel, hugging it tightly around me.

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