She pushes back against my dick, wanting it, begging for it. I fist her hair and pull her head back. “I like you like this. At my mercy.” I lean down and hiss in her ear, “Want me to fuck you like this, huh?”

Her head next to mine, the back of it touching my shoulder, I can see her fragile, beautiful neck and smell the aroma of her sweat mixed with perfume. I lean in and run my nose along the edge, feeling her tremble.

She nods and I push her forward aggressively, making her land on her hands, spreading her ass with my hands, admiring what I’m about to take.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

I lick two of my fingers and run them over her clit, pressing them deep inside of her. She shudders as I finger fuck her from behind. The wet sound of my hand moving in and out her fills the room, and it’s driving me mad. She grips the leather, her nails leaving indentations as the speed of my hand increases, as I take out my anger, my frustration, my need, my yearning on her body. I’m a selfish bastard for doing so, but I can’t stop. I need this as much as I need my next breath.

I hate you, Blaire.

I fucking hate you.

I pull my fingers out of her, push myself closer, and grab her by the hip. Pumping my cock before I enter her in one swift, deep thrust. I fuck her as though I am looking for my salvation and my solace in her cunt.

It doesn’t work.

I close my eyes, and it’s Blaire I see, glancing back as I enter her from behind, smiling, taunting me with her smile. And the harder my cock enters this woman with the blonde hair, the louder Blaire’s laughter fills my ears.

I shake my head, feeling the sweat beads crawling down my skin like the legs of a spider, trying to force her out of my mind, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works. I look up and see our reflection in the window facing the street. Our eyes meet on the glass, her beauty mirrored on the flat surface, but I’m so fucking gone, so fucking numb, it makes me feel nothing. Letting go of one of her shoulders, I bring my other hand around to rub her clit with my thumb. Fast. Faster.

She’s moaning, telling me not to stop, and I can feel both of our orgasms hovering within reach when my house phone begins to ring. Not caring who is calling, I let the voice message pick up.

It’s her.

Haunting me. Fucking with me.

Her voice fills the small space of my apartment as I continue to bury my cock in another woman over and over again.

“Hi … It’s me … I know it’s late, but I couldn’t sleep.”

My jaw tense, I close my eyes and thrust forward again, rubbing her, pounding harder and faster each time.

“I … I don’t know why I’m calling. I’m probably the last person you want to hear from …”

As her voice continues to surround us, our rhythm becomes more desperate. I grip her so hard I can see the indentations of my fingers on her white skin, and fuck harder into her.

“I guess … I just wanted to tell you that you meant a lot to me.”

As our bodies continue to crash as though we were the sea and rock, I rub her faster and faster, until she comes undone on my hand and on my cock.

“I miss you.”

Those last words and Blaire’s voice swim in my head. A scream is torn from my chest as I come inside another woman, thrusting one last time. I pull out, not bothering to remove the used condom, reach for her and wrap her in my arms, comforting her. I feel her trembling but it’s not until her voice breaks through the ringing in my ears that I realize it’s me who’s shaking.

I’m not comforting her.

She’s comforting me.

“Shhh … it’s all right,” she says soothingly, caressing my hair.