The Unrequited

God. God. I think I’m dead. I’m in heaven and hell. In another stratosphere. I’m everywhere. He has shattered me with his dark promises, broken me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be pieced back together.

“Not today though.” He moves away, one hand on the nape of my neck, keeping me down. “No. Today I’m going to show you something else. Today I’m going to show you how I burn.”

With that, he shoves his cock in me and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. He isn’t gentle. He doesn’t give me time to adjust to his size. He is hurting me—my pussy is going to be sore for a long time—but nothing matters when his hips are slapping my ass with every stab of his cock, when he is grunting over me, probably sweating and panting. I wish I could open my eyes and look at him, but the hurt is so good.

Winding his hand in my hair, he jerks me upright, changing the angle of his thrusts. He is pressing against the upper wall of my cunt, making me feel him in my stomach. The force of his hold is so tight, so mighty that my neck is arched up and I’m looking at his fierce face upside down, my chin tucked under his.

“I feel like I’m sick, Layla. Burning up. Sweating. Like every cell in my body is vibrating.” His teeth are gritted, his words infused with his lust and exertion. “It starts in my gut. Then it travels up to my chest and shoulders, and I feel a raging pain in the back of my skull. That’s when I know I’m going to catch fire any second if I don’t get it under control, if I don’t stop thinking about you.”

The pressure in my stomach is unrelenting. It feels like I’m going to burst or pee or something. “Th-Thomas. Too much. It’s…” I trail off with watering eyes.

“Not enough. It’s not enough.” He jams his cock inside, probably touching my insane heart, and rotates his hips. It’s a good thing his other hand goes to cover my mouth because I can’t keep the scream inside this time. Neither can I keep my tears held up. They stream down, wetting his palm.

His nostrils flare at the sight but he doesn’t stop. God, he does not stop. He keeps going, keeps jackhammering, and I…

“You love it. Yeah?” he rasps, completing my thought. “Maybe that’s why you forgot to lock the door the first time around. Maybe you wanted to get caught, wanted people to see how much you love my cock. Isn’t that right? You want everyone to see you like this.”

I blink in agreement. That’s all I’ve got the strength for. He lets go of my hair with a grunt and drops his forehead in the crook of my neck. His strokes are erratic now, like he’s inching closer to his climax.

Now that my neck isn’t stretched tight, I can take full breaths. My fingers sink into his hair. It’s peaceful like this. His violence, his aggression put me at ease. I never want to leave his arms, this room. I want to be with him forever.

My eyes jerk open at the thought. No. Not forever. This is not forever.

“Rub your clit. I want you to get yourself off.”

All thoughts evaporate at his commanding voice and I do as he says. I flick my clit and play with my puffy nipples.

“This is what I think about,” he bites. “It doesn’t even matter if you’re around. This. Bursting every door down so I can get to your pussy. All I can think about is fucking you, Layla. All the time. Every time. You’re in my fucking blood, and I’ll tear apart anyone who dares to fucking touch you.”

That’s when I come. My body strains, goes rigid as I come at his confession—a confession that seems to be torn out of his very soul. It sharpens my orgasm, makes it that much more painful and fulfilling.

I feel him come inside me. It’s only then I realize he’s wearing a condom. I was so gone in my lust that I didn’t even know when he put it on. His climax is a silent one, probably because he said too much before.

He lets me go and strokes my sweaty spine in soothing circles. His touch finally calms me, and I smile a sleepy smile.

Thomas was jealous. It did affect him.

I don’t remember having been this happy for a long, long time.





Words are powerful. Words are fucking magnificent. I love all things words.

I’m flying today with Lana’s voice in my ears, all because Thomas gave me the words. You’re in my fucking blood, and I’ll tear apart anyone who dares to fucking touch you.

I never knew something as potent and ugly as jealousy could invoke such happy emotions in me. I could kiss Dylan again just to feel Thomas’ aggression. It makes me wonder if everyone is like that, if it’s normal to feel this way, to be so needy for something.

I open the door to my apartment and all thoughts about kissing Dylan vanish when I see Emma crying on the couch. I rush to her side. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffs. “Dylan and I broke up.”

“What?” I give her a side hug. “B-But why?” Is it because he kissed me? I want to add, but I can’t, because it’s going to hurt her—and what if she blames me?

“Because he’s being a jerk.”

“What happened? What…What did he do?” I pat her back in circles. Any second now, she’ll knock my hand off and break up this friendship.

“He accused me of cheating.” She scrunches up her face. “As if I’d ever do such a thing. I’m not a slut.”

“With Matt?”

“How do you know that?” Emma is suspicious.

Shit. My big mouth. I don’t know if I should tell her what happened this morning, how I lied to her so I could meet Dylan and then he fucking kissed me. That idiot. I’m lying to her so much as it is, or rather not telling. I’m like your mom—well, I’m the female version of the man who wrecked your family. Now, can we be BFFs?

I look at Emma’s tear-stained face and think of all the troubles she’s been having these past few days. Whose fault is that? Theirs for fighting over something that happened in the past? Or her mom’s for doing something terrible years ago? Or is it mine? Did I do a wrong thing by getting them together? But they loved each other. It was so obvious. If you love someone, you should be with them, end of story.

God, things don’t make sense anymore. I can’t tell what’s right or wrong. Is love even worth all this trouble?

I decide I can’t lie to Emma more than necessary. She’s my friend. “Uh, I…well, I know that because—”

“I know he kissed you,” she informs me.

I tense up. My heart is pounding like a jackhammer. Please, don’t let her blame me. Everyone always blames me.

“I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid. It didn’t mean anything. He barely touched me. Just…” My voice is shrill with panic. “You have to believe me. It was nothing.”

“Hey, Layla, of course I believe you.” Emma is the one calming me down, patting my back. “Why wouldn’t I? I know you would never do such a thing, move in on my man or whatever, so relax.”

Her words are reassuring, but my heart is still racing as if it doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. “You do?”

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