Page 11 of At My Worst

I smash my lips back onto hers, and she opens for me, allowing my tongue to enter. A growl escapes me as she grabs my shoulder with one hand and places her hand on my chest with her other, and begins to move up and down on my cock. She moans as her pussy wraps tightly around my cock.

Fuck she is intoxicating.

I pull back, break the kiss, and grab onto her hips as she continues to ride my cock. She is so fucking beautiful. I lean in, kissing her neck, and she rolls her hips as she continues to ride my cock. The way her pussy is fluttering around me tells me she is almost there. My balls start to tighten as she continues to takewhat she needs from me, making my eyes roll into the back of my head. I bite down on her neck as she screams my name, her pussy locks so tight around me she pulls me over the edge with her.

She continues to slowly ride my cock, until we both have started to come down. She sits up with me still inside her and looks down at me.

“You are such a bad girl,” I whisper. The taste of sweat and blood lingers on my lips and tongue.

Our rapid breathing mixes with the sound of the waves. I sit up, holding her against me as I rest my forehead against her neck. Her heart is beating fast as we both try to catch our breath. I pull back and look over her face.

Her eyes meet mine. “Fuck, where did you come from?” I ask softly.

She doesn’t respond, but I can see the desire and lust in her eyes. I tighten my grip on her hips, lift her off of my cock, and then force us both to stand up. We both lean down, grabbing our underwear and pants. She doesn’t say anything to me as we both get dressed.

I grab the flashlight and book from the dock and gently hand them to her. She grabs them, pinning them to her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, but instead, she looks at me for another second, then turns around and begins making her way up the dock towards her house.

Mystery that is what she is, a mystery, a puzzle I want to put back together. But I have a feeling she isn’t going to let me, not yet.

Physical, I can do that. I have always been good at the physical, but something inside me tells me physical is not what I want from her.

Fuck. I run my hands through my hair as I watch her disappear into the blackness of the night.

5

Bianca

1st Week in Port Angeles

“Demons”by Jacob Lee

The first week here has been nothing but a blur. I got a new phone and texted my friends, letting them know I was okay. They are worried about me, and I don’t blame them. They wanted to know where I was, and I told them because I couldn’t keep anything from them. They have the right to know.

I worry about him finding out, but honestly, I don’t think he would come here. He always said he could adapt to any situation, and I am afraid that is the same for me leaving in the middle of the night. I know he is angry, but I also know he is a proud man. He will stay at the house and deal with his emotions, like always, by not showing them at all.

I take a deep breath as I sit back in the chair and look over the ads for a therapist. Luckily, there are plenty of remote jobs I amqualified for. I have already applied for five of them. Now, I just have to wait to see if I get any calls back.

I switch to the other blank screen in Word and start typing what I have kept inside for years. I don’t know if I will ever actually publish what I am about to write, but I think it is time to tell my story and show people that there is another side of domestic violence that sometimes people forget about.

My husband was not physically abusive. It was all mental, emotional, and psychological, but to me, it has been more hurtful in aspects than had it been just bruises and broken bones. I have been in those situations as well. The bruises fade, and the bones heal, but the internal wounds remain unseen and can fester into wounds that never heal. They end up being deep scars forever to remind us of what we have lived through.

I tell my clients all the time to write down their feelings. I think it is time I took my own advice, even if it is just for me.

I have gone out on the town several times, but not enough to know where everything is. I really need to get food, more coffee, and energy drinks, which means I need to go out in public and be an adult.

Fuck me.

I sit back in the chair and reread the words I have written. I haven’t written as much as I wanted to, but it will have to do for now. Maybe going out and getting some fresh air will do me good.

I stand up and stretch, slip on my flip-flops, grab my book, and slide it into my bag. Fortunately, everything in this town is within walking distance of my house. It will give me more time to read and escape myself. I slowly make my way to the door and grab the door handle, taking a deep breath.

“Everything I do is for you. I work my ass off for you so we can have nice things,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I know, I know you do,” I reply, trying to keep him calm.

“Then why do you act ungrateful?” He asks inthattone. The tone that tells me he is annoyed and not happy with me. It is a tone I have become accustomed to hearing from him for a while now.

“I don’t,” I respond quietly.

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