Page 26 of At My Worst

She chuckles as she lowers herself down onto my cock, taking my breath away. I grab onto her hips as she rests her hands against my chest.

Brittany was right about one thing. I never let her touch my chest. I never let her touch the spot my mother used to put her hands on whenever she was explaining something to me. She would place her hands on my chest and look me in the eyes, to help ground me and calm my anxiety.

But Bianca, she can touch me, hurt me, break me, cut me, make me bleed, fucking all of it because I am hers. I am all fucking hers.

Her pussy wraps tightly around my cock as she starts to grind against me, causing me to groan. I keep my eyes on her as her head falls back. I tighten my grip on her hips, hoping that she’llwake up and see my fingerprints on her skin. I want to mark her all over, making sure that every motherfucker in this town knows that she is mine.

My balls start to tighten as she continues to work my cock, taking me in so fucking deep it takes the air from my lungs. She lifts her head and looks at me as she keeps her hands planted on my chest. I grab the back of her head and pull her against me, smashing our lips together. She opens her mouth, letting my tongue enter as she moans my name.

Fuck.

I pull her back as I roll my hips. Her eyes are filled with desire and lust as we stare at each other.

“Now, be my bad fucking girl and cum on my cock,” I demand, trying to catch my breath. She is going to fucking be the death of me.

“Yes, Sir,” she moans as she picks up her pace.

Her pussy wraps so fucking tight around my cock that I don’t think I can hold back any longer. I thrust up once, hitting that one spot, and she fucking loses it. We find our release at the same time: the night and the waves taking our screams away.

She stills on top of me, dropping her hands from my chest.

“Tell me you are mine,” I beg her.

She looks at me for a moment and leans forward, her lips almost touching mine. “I’m yours,” she confesses.

I tighten my grip on the back of her neck and pull her into me, needing to taste her, once again needing validation that this is real, that she is real.

11

Bianca

2nd Week in Port Angeles

“Author”by Jacob Lee

Isit back in my chair and stare at the screen. I scan the words I have been writing for the last few hours. It is odd seeing my thoughts on the screen, telling my story. A story that I believe needs to be told.

This is harder than I thought it would be. I am sharing part of myself in this new book, and then it is hard because I keep thinking no one will want to read a book from a no-body Indie Author.

I have never written a book, but I have always wanted to. I never thought this would be the first story I would write, but sometimes, things happen in such a way we have no control. All we can do is ride it out and hope for the best.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Everything from the last ten years comes crashing into my mind. Good things, thingsthat were not so good, and all the confusing times that made me feel unstable and crazy.

I never understood how someone can make another person feel so low with just a look or just a few words out of their mouth. I never understood how it has truly affected me until I started writing this book. It is making me face things that I don’t think I am ready to face.

“I do love you, Bianca. Everything I do is for you, for us,” he says, looking at me.

I know he loves me; I don’t question that. What I question is if he is in love with me, and I don’t think he is. At least, not like he was before.

Something has changed with us over the last year, and I feel we will never be the same. We are like two different people, living two different lives under the same roof. Marriage is not supposed to be like this.

“I know,” is all I can say now because I don’t know what else to say.

“What do you want from me?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I want us to go back to the way we were before.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” he replies.

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