Broken Juliet

After I close the door, I collapse against it, breathless and aching. I expect the regret and bitterness to swallow me, but strangely, it doesn’t. Instead, I’m smiling.

 

I did it. I fucked Ethan Holt and survived. Thrived, even. And now, I’m too filled with satisfaction to regret what we did.

 

Later, I feel bad when I take a shower and change my sheets, but it’s only because I can’t smell him on me anymore.

 

It’s at that moment a dull ticking starts up inside me. It pulses in my blood and keeps time with my heart. When I think of Ethan, it speeds up.

 

A countdown clock. A slow detonator.

 

Cataloguing the seconds until he makes me explode again.

 

 

 

 

When Ruby arrives home mid-afternoon, she flops down next to me on the couch.

 

“Hey.”

 

She also has Hagrid hair and a satisfied smile. Seems good sex looks the same on everyone.

 

My hair’s washed. I’ve untangled the sex knots.

 

No one would ever know that just five hours ago, Holt had it wrapped around his hands as he took me from behind.

 

“Hey,” I say and push the image away. “Have a good night?”

 

She stretches. “Oh, yeah. God, there is nothing … and I mean nothing to relieve tension like riding a hot piece of man-meat all night. It’s like a full-body massage from the inside out. You really need to try it one of these days. I know you think Buzz is all you need right now, but honey … there’s only so much fake dick a girl can take before she needs to rumble with the real deal.”

 

He tugs my head back and grips my hip to hold me in place as he thrusts, strong and deep. He hits unexpected places inside me. Kisses my shoulder as I swear and call out his name.

 

I eat a spoonful of yogurt and try to keep my face impassive. “Uh-huh.”

 

She leans against me. “So, what did you get up to after the party? The usual? Book and bed?”

 

I nod. “Yep. You know me. Boring old Cassie.”

 

I lower myself onto him, prideful as I watch his eyes roll back into his head. My body trembles with the effort of containing this power. This magnificent, confident version of myself. Sex-Goddess Cassie. I ride him slowly, drag him to the edge of climax so often he starts to beg. Punish him by weaponizing his pleasure. Reward him by letting him see mine. Time and again.

 

“Poor baby,” Ruby says as she snuggles up to me. “You need sex.”

 

I fan myself. My blood is pumping way too fast. Too close to the surface. Hot and demanding.

 

“Yeah, well. Maybe one day.”

 

I don’t know why I don’t tell her. Maybe because she’d take it the wrong way and think Ethan and I are getting back together, when we’re absolutely not. Or maybe because she’d confirm it was the worst thing I could have done.

 

Whatever her reaction, I don’t want it right now. I just want to enjoy this feeling of relative bliss. Before Ethan drove me home last night, I was miserable and lonely, and today I feel … empowered. Like a sexual genius. I did things to Ethan I’d only ever dreamed about. I made him shudder. Groan and plead. I dominated him and let him dominate me in return. I was able to give him pleasure like no one else ever has. Then I made him admit it and brought him completely undone.

 

After being powerless for so long, I finally feel like I have some control.

 

And what’s more, I managed to have him without drowning in unwanted emotion. I kept myself shielded and protected, even while he filled me in ways no other man ever will.

 

Sexual catharsis? Is there such a thing?

 

If so, that’s what Ethan and I shared.

 

I just wonder how long it will be until we both need to be purged again.

 

 

 

 

Monday morning. I walk to class feeling a thousand feet tall. I still hurt, but it only serves to remind me of my power. I’m Aphrodite. A force of nature, ready to be worshipped.

 

I should be nervous about seeing Ethan, but I’m not. Whatever happens, I can deal with it. I’ll smile if he shuts me down, because I’ll know he won’t be able to resist me for long. I own him. And he knows it.

 

I walk into class and immediately feel him staring at me. He looks angry.

 

Wait, not angry.

 

Hungry.

 

He glances away, but it’s only a few seconds before he’s back. Surprised. Awed.

 

The tick-tock inside me speeds up. Gives me a powerful thrill. I’d kind of expected him to retreat back into his emotionally distant shell, but for once, he’s not being totally predictable.

 

I like it.

 

With only a trace of his trademark fear, he gives me a lusty half smile. I give one back. I feel like we’re collaborators in a private joke. No one else has any idea what happened between us, but if he keeps looking at me like that, they’re going to realize pretty damn quickly.

 

I walk past him and whisper, “Stop undressing me with your eyes.”

 

He whispers back, “Would you rather I do it with my hands? Or teeth?”

 

Oh, this is interesting. He wants to play? Fine. For once, I’m confident I’ll win.

 

“How’s your penis?”

 

“You don’t know by now? It’s magnificent.”

 

“So conceited. I meant, are you sore?”

 

“Oh. Yeah. There’s definite … chafing. He’s exhausted, to be honest. I doubt I’ll ever be hard again.”

 

I give him a slow smile. “That sounds like a challenge.”