Chapter 11 What happens now?
I'm in deep shit.
Ben smiles at me when I open the door, and I hope that my face isn't as white as a ghost's. I regret giving him immediate access to my door now, because right now I still smell like Black, and I foolishly haven't even taken a shower yet, another man's cum still coating my thighs.
He brushes past me, holding a brown bag up in the air. "I brought bagels, I'll switch on the coffee machine."
"You're here." Black must've fucked out my brain cells, because clearly my boyfriend is here.
"Yeah, sorry about last night, baby. Miguel totally spoiled everything."
I don't tell him that Miguel didn't make him leave. If he had stayed, I wouldn't have slept with Black.
I've become toxic.
I let another man fuck me, and now I'm blaming my boyfriend, who had nothing to do with it.
What the hell do I do?
Am I supposed to tell him that I cheated?
I'm a slut, a whore. I cheated, and I don't even know with whom.
I can pretend it never happened.
But that would be impossible, because there's an ache between my thighs from the aftermath, and I literally struggled to get out of bed this morning as if I've been run over by a truck.
I can't get close to Ben.
"I'm going to take a shower."
I walk to my ensuite bathroom as fast as my legs allow me and immediately turn on the shower.
My heart gallops too fast in my chest when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look chaotic, the mascara from yesterday's makeup smudged underneath my eyes. My hair is a tangled mess, most likely from Black fisting it.
Images from last night play behind my eyes when I close them. Images of Black holding me down on the couch, of him forcefully penetrating me with his big cock. Just thinking of it makes me yearn for more, even though I've never been this sore before.
What would it feel like if I were completely his? Would he fuck me every chance he gets? I can only imagine being possessed by him every day.
My fingers trace my swollen lips. He kissed me like he couldn't get enough, and I kissed him back because I couldn't.
What is wrong with me?
My boyfriend is literally in my kitchen making me coffee. I shouldn't be reliving the mistake I made.
Only in the back of my mind, it doesn't feel like a mistake.
There was something about the way Black held me down and fucked the living shit out of me that felt like I finally belonged. I didn't feel like I had to be perfect when he bent me over that couch, or that I had to chase something that always felt just out of reach.
There was only him drilling into me, making me into someone different.
I wasn't a daughter, or a niece, a cousin, or even a prima ballerina.
I was just a woman being dominated by a man, and I loved it.
I tie my hair on the top of my head, and I pause when I spot the fingerprints coming around from the back.
The handle to the bathroom turns, and I quickly untie my hair again to hide the evidence.
"Babe, you literally don't have anything in the fridge." Ben walks in carrying a steaming mug, none the wiser, while my heart threatens to gallop out of my chest. "So the coffee is black, why don't you get like a maid or something?"
I just shake my head while I smooth my dark locks over my shoulders. He can't seem to understand why I'm not utilizing my family's money to make my life easier. But I like being independent, and I like shopping for myself and cleaning up after myself.
He puts the cup on the counter, and I stiffen when he comes to stand behind me, his arms coming around my waist and sniffing my hair.
I feel it when he realizes something is off.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I hope I don't look as guilty as I feel..
"Did you change your perfume?"
"No." I twist out of his arms and open the shower door to start the water. "I was too tired last night to take a shower, I probably still smell like Simon."
That's the smoothest lie I've ever told, because acceptance flashes in his eyes and he smirks.
"Want me to join you in the shower? I could massage your head."
"No can do, I have to see Amelia in an hour to check out my ankle."
Another seamless lie. I'm getting good at it.
I panic inwardly when he steps closer to me and threads my hair in his hand to kiss me hard on the lips. "Tonight it's just you and me, babe. I need to be inside you."
I just stand there as still as a statue when he winks at me and leaves me alone in the bathroom.
What do I do now?