Thomas drops his head on my shoulder, his thrusts erratic. It’s a mad race to his own climax, the jerky movements, the rotation of his hips—and then it all stops. Orgasming, he throws his head back, exposing his neck.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than this, than him. I’ve never heard anything more melodic than his animalistic grunts. He grinds his cock inside me, wringing out every drop of his cum. I wish I could feel it without the barrier of the latex.
My hips twitch in unison with the heartbeat in his cock, and I wind my arms around his neck, never wanting to let him out of my pussy.
For a long time, we breathe in sync, in and out, in and out, as if our wild, aroused breaths are fucking now that our bodies are at rest. It’s a poetic thought, a little fanciful and a whole lot of impossible, but it’s nice.
Then Thomas heaves himself up and away from my body. He removes the condom, wraps it in a tissue – to hide it? -- and throws it in the trash, before snatching his pants from the floor and putting them on.
Again, I can only catch a glimpse of his corded thighs before they are covered by the frayed denim. He leaves them unbuttoned, as if it’s too much of a hassle to do such a mundane task, and walks to the window, lighting a cigarette.
Like a moron, I keep lying on the floor; I watch him take a drag. The slopes of his carved back twitch with his actions, and so do his bulging biceps when he rakes his hands through his thick hair.
The longer he is silent, the more my anxiety grows. Something’s wrong. Something’s going on in his head, and I want to know what it is. I drag myself up, barely suppressing a hiss as the rug burns make their presence known. I stand on jellied legs and go to pick up my discarded clothes by the door, but the sight of the couch stops me.
It’s sagging and wrinkled, so unlike the pristine condition it’s usually in. Frowning, I take the room in for the first time since I entered. Papers are scattered on the desk, so unlike him. Cigarette and ash litter the floor as if he’s been bingeing on nicotine all day. It makes me think that the cleaning crew is going to hate him in the morning.
“Are you…Are you sleeping in here?” I blurt out the question at Thomas, my clothes forgotten. His back tenses, grooves and digs appearing out of the knotted muscles, and that’s my answer. Yes.
“Thomas?” I press on. “What’s going on?”
Nothing. Just a swirl of smoke that scatters into thin wisps as it touches the window. If anything, he’s become even more statue-like, unapproachable and cold. I clench my fists at my sides and dig my toes into the carpet, stopping myself from going to him. I know he won’t respond kindly to it and I’m feeling oddly vulnerable right now, naked and anxious.
“Where’s Nicky?” My voice is hoarse with fear, and that’s the first thing that pops up. “Did she…take him?”
This elicits a harsh laugh. “No. She wouldn’t.”
“Why not?” He doesn’t answer, so I ask another question. “So where is he?”
“He’s fine. He’s with someone who can be there for him right now.”
“And you’re not that person?”
“No. Not right now.”
His callousness presses down on my chest and a strangled question emerges. “Thomas, wh-what’s happening? Have you even been home in the past two days?”
Sighing, he turns around. His face is lined with impatience. Looking me up and down, he sucks in a long drag, pinching the cigarette between his index and middle finger. His eyes are both harsh and lazy and despite my anxiety, my pussy clenches. I wince at the dull pain.
My flinch doesn’t go unnoticed and his gaze drops to the juncture of my thighs. It makes me hypersensitive to the wetness still lingering there, so much so that I rub my soft, fleshy thighs together.
“Put your clothes on. I’m dropping you off.”
“No, not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing.”
He lifts the half-smoked cigarette and points to it, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. “Trying to kill myself.” Then he flicks it away, adding to the litter and walks to the side of the desk, picking up his keys. “Now, shall we?”
I don’t think. I don’t even tell my body to move. It just does, and in the next second, I’m lunging at him, climbing his sturdy, powerful body. He oomphs at the impact and shifts his stance to brace my weight.
My arms are around his neck and my thighs clamp around his waist. My wet cunt is sliding over his ridged stomach, the curly hair around his belly button tickling my clit, making us both shudder. I put my forehead to his and stare into his eyes.
“She’ll come back, Thomas. You’ll see.” My reassurance scrapes my throat and tongue, but I keep talking. “She’ll realize how much she loves you and she’ll come back, I promise. I just know it.”
Thomas settles his arms under my ass, his hot palms stinging the tenderness caused by rug burns.
“Yeah? Is that what you know?” His gravelly voice is making me restless, and the fact that he is massaging my ass, soothing the soreness, as if he cares that I’m hurting, doesn’t help. He’s looking at me like I’m something…precious but irritating. Like I confuse the fuck out of him. Like he can’t believe I’m talking about his wife while clinging to him naked, rubbing my core against his stomach like a slut.
“She will. She loved you once, and she’ll love you again. You can’t fall out of love. You just can’t.” Love has to be enough.
I don’t know whom I’m trying to convince, him or me.. Thomas can’t ever stop loving Hadley, and I can’t wrap my head around the fact that anyone would willingly not love this man. It’s incomprehensible to me. It makes me hurt.
Thomas flexes his fingers and smashes our bodies together. I feel his hardness in the crease of my ass, and my core clenches in response. We’re stuck to each other’s bodies, slick and hot with lingering sweat and ever-expanding lust.
“She told me she’d be back Wednesday, but she isn’t here, and I…don’t know what to do.”
It’s such a vulnerable, almost childish statement that I can’t stop myself from kissing him and drinking his pain away.
When we break apart, he says with intense and glassy eyes, “I don’t deserve her, not after neglecting her for a long time. I don’t know when it happened, but I lost sight of her. I forgot about her. I forgot everything but my words. No one deserves that. No one deserves to be forgotten.”
I didn’t even realize I was crying until I hiccup and his features slash with regret. This is why I come back to him time and time again. This is why I don’t care if I’m breaking every single rule and deeming myself a slut, a harlot. Because he’s lonely. Because he’s in unrequited love. And for some unfathomable reason, it kills me to see him like this.
I rotate my hips against him, wondering if I’ve lost my mind. How is it possible to be so, so sad and filled with lust at the same time?
Thomas brings his hand over to my cheek and tries to wipe the salty water away, but I’m filled to the brim with emotions. God, I hurt so much right now. For Thomas. For myself.