Page 23 of At My Worst

“I am jealous,” he growls in my ear.

“I am possessive,” he continues as he slams into me over and over again, making my entire body shake against him and the wall.

“I am controlling,” he nips my ear.

He takes a deep breath. “I need to be dominant.”

“You are not the only one with sharp shattered pieces, baby,” he whispers into my ear.

I shatter around his cock as he slams into me one last time. Both of us scream each other’s name as my entire body trembles through my release. He slowly pulls out of me and pulls back, looking over my face. He loosens his grip on my throat as he studies my eyes.

“I don’t care what you do to me, as long as you are the one that does it,” he confesses as he lowers me to the ground.

My legs are weak as he pins me against the wall.

“I don’t know what to say,” I say shakily.

“Don’t say anything at all. Let me show you with my actions and not just say it with my words,” he pledges.

“Fuck,” I whisper as he leans in and kisses my forehead.

He knows all the right things to say, but I am starting to realize he has no problem making sure his actions match the words he says.

10

Alexander

“Darkside”by Neoni

Istack the glasses as Josh continues to mess around with the music. He wanted to make sure the music was perfect for tonight.

He has been staring at me off and on all fucking day, and I know he wants to ask me what is going on with me and Bianca, but he won’t, not until I bring it up first. Part of the reason I’m staying quiet is because I know not knowing is driving him crazy, and the other part is that I don’t know exactly what is happening between us.

It has been a week since I fucked her against the wall in her house and professed part of me to her. We have been hanging out, getting to know each other or at least as much as she will allow me to, which is more than before, so I am not complaining.

I want to ask her about her husband and what pushed her to leave, but I am pretty sure my guess is spot on without her saying anything.

By the way she acts and the things she says about herself, her husband might not have hit her physically, but he has been beating her down psychologically, emotionally, and mentally for a long time. I can tell she doesn’t feel worthy or beautiful. She questions herself often and hesitates, like she is thinking through every word before speaking.

The small things she does make my blood boil for the man who believed he was treating her right when, in reality, he was breaking her down piece by piece.

I turn my head when I hear the bell, and my stomach lurches when I see who walked in.

Fucking Brittany. What the fuck does she want?

“We are closed,” I say as she approaches the counter, stopping in front of me.

“I know. I wanted to talk to you,” she says softly.

“About what? I have nothing to say to you,” I snap.

She has this sixth sense way of knowing when I am over her, and that is when she plows back into my life and fucks me up all over again, but not this fucking time. I am not playing this game with her. I am over it, and I am over her.

“Don’t be like that, Alex,” she says playfully.

I place the glass on the counter and look at her. She is dressed in a tank top and jeans, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. It brings back memories of a time when I enjoyed pulling so hard on that fucking ponytail that she’d scream out my name. That is until she broke my trust and chose to sleep with men I thought were my friends. Now when I see that ponytail on her head, it makes me sick to my fucking stomach.

“I am not being like anything, Brittany. You are the one that cheated on me, remember,” I say—my irritation toward her surfacing.

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