Page 72 of The Last Fire

“Yes. Goodnight.” I close the bathroom door at the end of the hallway and breathe a sigh of relief.

“Your guest room is ready,” she informs me from behind the door, then I hear footsteps fading away.

Is she really not a robot? She seems lifeless. It’s creeping me the hell out.

I'm too exhausted to even think about other people. I take a bath, letting the cold water soothe my swollen ankle until the pain fades away. I spend over an hour in the tub, and then I retreat to the guest room, plopping down on the bed and gazing out the window.

Sleep is nowhere to be found, so I decide to head to Manasseh's bedroom to let him know that I'm moving back to my dad's place tomorrow. I can't handle staying in this house anymore. I can't even breathe here; it's all too... much.

Slipping out of the guest room as quietly as possible, I slowly make my way towards his room, leaning against the wall for support. The door is slightly cracked open. As I approach, I catch the sound of heavy, labored breathing. I can't resist and take a peek through the narrow opening. I see Manasseh's back, tensing with each thrust, the unmistakable sound of skin on skin filling the room.

A burning sensation tightens my chest as I realize that he is having sex with a stranger, as if nothing ever happened, as if we aren't under the same roof, as if he hadn't practically forced me to come here, repeating over and over how important I am to him.

What is this strange feeling that constricts my chest? Is it jealousy, disappointment, disgust? Perhaps it's all of them intertwined?

He hadn't changed, still wearing the same loosely fitted suit pants, probably unbuttoned just for convenience, and the shirt unbuttoned at the chest.

I cover my mouth as a bitter taste builds up beneath my tongue, but I freeze by the door, watching him possess the petite girl so forcefully that she's barely visible beneath his massive frame, trapped between the wall and his imposing body. Only her slender hands, with long, crimson nails gripping the wall, are visible amidst the act. It's devoid of any emotion, with only carnal satisfaction lingering in the air, without any hint of emotional connection. Manasseh penetrates her with such brutality that her moans don't sound like pleasure at all.

“Enough...” She manages to gasp out between labored breaths, but he grabs her wrist, restraining her hand behind her back, and continues his relentless assault without an ounce of emotion.

I press my hand harder against my mouth, trembling as his deep voice resonates through the crack in the door.

“I told you I will fuck you until you can't walk anymore if you resist,” he growls, his hands gripping her blond hair, which looks like a wig, and he hisses into her ear, pumping with the same relentless energy.

“Don't take your frustrations out on me, you beast, or I won't come when you call for me anymore. I don't want to be incapable of anything tomorrow because of you,” her thin voice sounds exhausted.

He seems irritated by her unnecessary comments and shoves two fingers into her mouth, then lifts his gaze from her, looking towards the door.

I don't move because Manasseh's eyes are fixed on me.

Can he see me in the darkness of the hallway? It feels like his gaze is drilling directly into my eyes.

I feel a surge of disgust as I realize that the girl who willingly opened her legs for him is nothing more than a piece of meat for his carnal pleasure. There she is, barely able to stay on her feet as he forcefully thrusts into her, but he doesn't see her, doesn't feel her. He's inside her, but his gaze convinces me that he's thinking about someone else entirely.

I watch him, and he watches me, his breath growing increasingly rapid, the muscles of his back tightening beneath his tailored suit pants, molding to his firm buttocks, a sign that he's reaching the climax.

I know I shouldn't be here. I should leave. Yet, I can't tear my eyes away as he pulls out of her, removes the condom, and hastily strokes his swollen cock, tantalizing my hungry gaze with an undeniable, raw desire that ignites a fire deep within my womb. I get wet as I look at him, his arousal palpable, his cum cascading in waves onto the trembling girl's round buttocks as she leans against the wall. She moans softly, trying to stifle her pleasure, and I tremble, unable to look away as our eyes meet, both consumed by the electrifying sexual tension hanging in the air.

He wipes his still swollen penis head against her, and slaps her as if mocking her for one last time. In that moment, something inside me awakens. Terrified, I take a step back, and as I take another, a painful chill pierces through my ankle. I attempt to support myself with my hand, but I lean on the injured one, causing me to crawl towards the nearby table, inadvertently knocking over a ceramic decor object, which shatters into pieces.

Fuck!

I hear voices coming from the room, and I force myself to get up, hobbling quickly back to the guest room. I close the door and press my back against it, desperate for air. Shivers course through my body, and a pulsating heat between my thighs intensifies as the image of Manasseh, still fully clothed, with a mix of arousal and cold detachment on his face, leaves me breathless.

What's happening to me? What is this feeling? Why does Manasseh affect me like this?

I touch myself gently, feeling the heat and wetness. Disgust fills me, and I open the window, then stretch out on the bed, seeking relief as the cool air caresses my skin, hoping it will soothe the intense heat that's consuming me. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm the burning sensation. I press my fingers against my ankle, distracting myself from the allure of those sensations with a touch of pain. I gaze up at the ceiling, attempting to clear my mind.

What have you done to me, Manasseh?I wonder, lifting my legs and letting the cool breeze slip beneath the folds of my nightgown, hoping it will extinguish the inner fire that's been ignited.

?? ?????? ??

“Becca?” I jolt awake at the sound of my name.

Manasseh stands by my bedside, hands buried in the pockets of his tailored pants, his gaze locked on me. Confusion swirls within me as I clutch the sheets, and feeling like I had barely closed my eyes, even though the morning arrived.

“What's the matter” I mutter, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

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