Page 36 of At My Worst

I tighten my grip on her throat and lean down, resting my forehead against hers. “Let me show you how.”

I don’t know what the fuck her husband did to her, or how he treated her, or what he has told her for the years they were together, but I do know he has beat her down so much that shedoesn’t trust herself. She doubts herself and doesn’t believe she is worthy or capable of being the right version of her.

It breaks my fucking heart.

“I’m scared,” she says so quietly I barely hear her words.

“I know, but I am right fucking here,” I tell her.

“For now,” she says.

I pull back and look over her face. She isn’t listening to me. She is not allowing herself to hear what I am saying to her.

Fine, she wants physical, if that is the only way to show her that I am right fucking here, then so fucking be it. I release my grip on her throat and step back. I start to undo my pants.

“What are you doing?” She asks, watching me closely.

“Ever wanted to fuck a stranger bent over a picnic table with people around?” I ask in a low, desired voice.

She doesn’t respond with words. She just nods.

It breaks my fucking heart that being physical is what she understands, but I know I need to be patient with her. If physical is what she needs from me right now, that is what she is going to get. But what she doesn’t understand is she already has my heart, and I will keep reminding her of that fact every fucking moment of every fucking day.

I will reassure and fucking validate her until the day I die. If that is what she needs, then that is what I will do without question.

“Turn around,” I demand.

She does as she is told, like the bad fucking girl she is.

“Pull up your skirt and lose your underwear,” I command in a dark, low voice.

I watch her closely as she does as I demand. I can hear more people behind us laughing, drunk, and getting lost in each other.

“Bend over the picnic table,” I say, feeling my heart race.

She walks into the table and bends over, grabbing the sides and turning her head to the side.

“Spread your legs, baby,” I whisper, trying to control myself.

She does as I ask.

Fuck.

I walk up behind her and push my pants and boxers down enough to free my throbbing cock. Leaning over her, I grab my dick and slide it through her slick folds. She is fucking soaked. I place the tip at her entrance and grab her by the throat, resting my lips against her ear. “I am in love with you, Bianca, and I am not going to lose you,” I growl as I thrust into her until I am balls deep.

The walls of her pussy wrap tightly around me as I begin to pound into her. I place my hand over her left hand, which is gripping the edge of the table for dear life. I don’t let up, and the sound of our skin slapping together echoes through the darkness surrounding us.

“If fucking you will allow you to see my truths, then fine, I will fuck you like the bad girl you are,” I growl into her ear as sweat drips down my face onto her neck.

My words cause her walls to wrap tighter around my cock.

Fuck.

“I am not him, Bianca. I don’t have an issue with touching you, fucking you, but I want more.”

“Alexander,” she moans.

“I don’t know what he did to you, but I plan on replacing him in every fucking way humanly possible,” I confess to her as I intertwine my fingers in hers over the edge of the table.

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