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Days later. A knock on the door, early afternoon. It’s her. As the cliché goes, gorgeous when she’s angry.

I open my mouth, completely oblivious as to what is about to come out of it, when her hand flashes out and she slaps me across the face. She stares daggers at me for several seconds and this time when she raises her arm, I catch it. At first her look is disbelieving. She looks at my hand on her arm, then our eyes meet again. There’s a staredown. Her eyes are murderous, then suddenly surprised. She tries and fails to stifle a laugh. Snorts. Covers her smile with a hand. “Sorry,” she guffaws. “Bitch. Ya got a little something on your face, there.” She gestures at the side of my face that must bear her handprint. Then her shit eating grin falters. Her eyes brim with tears. “Ah, shit, my makeup. Move.” She pushes past me and into my house, making a beeline for the bathroom mirror.

I shut the door and hesitantly follow. She stands before the glass, palms flat on the rim of the sink, elbows locked and head down. I wait for her to look up and see me behind her in the mirror, but she speaks without looking. “I can’t even stay mad at you. He sucked. Obviously.” She looks up and our eyes meet in the mirror. Her face is flushed and there’s a single mascara track down each cheek. Suddenly she turns and steps into me. Her breasts are smaller and higher than mine, I feel taut stretched t-shirt against the bare skin of my upper chest. She puts her hands on either side of my face and I wince slightly, mildly in pain and startled. She looks down at my lips. Light-headed, my hands come to rest on her hips. “What makes you so fucking special, huh?” She tilts my face up and her lips are suddenly mashed hungrily against mine.

She makes a fist in my hair and cranes my neck back, lowers her mouth to it. Sucking. Raising bruises. Nibbling, then biting. Firmly. “Is this what you do to people,” she demands. “Make them feel like they’re losing control? Then what do you do, you fucking slut? What do you do with that control?”

This time I know what to say.

“Make them come.”

She shoves me out the bathroom door and pushes me all the way to my bed. And then we’re both fumbling to get her pants off.

NSFW: yes

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