Authors: Lisa de Jong
But I also love Arsen.
I can’t wait to go back to Arsen’s apartment. I need his kisses to erase the pain away like only he can. He’s my numbness.
Minutes pass and I want to move, but my body won’t listen. My feet are glued to the ground. I want the rain to cleanse me. I feel so dirty and so cold.
Empty.
Oh, Ben.
What have I done?
Chapter 30
Arsen.
I need him.
I need to see him and make sure I’ve made the right choice, even though deep down I know the answer.
I’m driving and trying to hold myself together. I can’t lose it just yet. I need to get to his apartment first. Then I can bury this crushing pain engulfing me in the deep corners of my heart and ignore reality. But the pain is too powerful to contain as it takes over me. I throw my phone on the passenger’s seat and wipe the tears off my face as deep gut wrenching sobs are torn from my chest. When I can’t stop crying, the tears preventing me from seeing ahead, I pull off to the side of the road and park the car.
As excruciating pain hits me from within, making me bend over at the waist, I wrap my arms around my stomach, attempting to shield myself from the pain. Shutting my eyes tightly, I fight the nausea brewing inside me as despair sucks the air out of me.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning in pain.
He is gone.
Gone.
Gone.
The love of my life is gone.
And it’s my fault.
I open the car door and throw up viciously on the ground. After there is nothing left inside me but bile, I rest my forehead against the cold glass of the driver’s window. My eyes ache with all the tears I’ve shed since this morning. The realization of what I had—and lost—begins to register in my mind, and in my heart.
How am I going to live a life without Ben in it?
He’s all I’ve ever known. He’s been my world, my truth, and my reality since I was eighteen years old. He’s the other half of me. Is there even a Cathy without him?
Tough shit. You did this, now you deal with it.
Even if I wanted to get Ben back, it’s too late for us. Too damn late.
I close my eyes for a moment, too exhausted to fight the memories. I let them take over, enfolding me in a bittersweet cloak made of yesterdays. The first time we kissed in the rain, the first time we said I love you, the day he proposed to me, the time he held me as I bled...these memories are all I have left of Ben, of our love, and they belong to me. And nothing will ever take them away from me. Nothing—not even my lying, cheating, deceitful heart.
As I start to drive again, my phone keeps ringing, but I ignore it.
Like I ignored it last night and all day today.
Arsen.
I need him. I need to see him. He’ll be able to take the pain away, make me forget like he always does with his numbing kisses and morphine-like touch. He’s the beautiful painkiller that my broken body and my shattered heart demand to stop hurting. I laugh like a crazed woman because I truly have no shame left and I don’t give a shit about it as long as I can make the agonizing ache of losing Ben disappear.
After I park the car in the garage of his building, I take the elevator to Arsen’s apartment. I glance around the square space and I’m able to see myself reflected on the mirrored walls; my eyes are puffy from crying, my skin pale from throwing up, and my lips still swollen from last night. As I look at the deranged woman staring back at me, I try to push thoughts of Ben away from my conscience.
By the time I make my way to his apartment, my body is shaking violently from nerves. I don’t know where we will go from here. What happens now? I love Ben, yet I’m standing in front of someone else’s door, waiting for him to fuck the pain and memories out of my head.
I happen to love this man too.
I gulp as I stand outside his apartment trying not to think about anything other than the physical release that my body requires from Arsen. I ignore the shouting voice inside my head telling me that Arsen is the wrong choice. If he is the wrong choice, why does it feel so good when I’m with him?
After ringing the doorbell, Arsen opens the door immediately and lets me in without saying a word. He looks like hell, maybe even worse than I do. Wearing only his Armani boxer briefs and nothing else, I can see the contours of his perfect body and the way his golden skin accentuates every groove and plain of his muscles. Whenever I see the dimples right above his ass and the deep vee peeking out of his underwear, an urge to lick him there takes over me.
I look up and absorb his achingly beautiful features. His eyes are bloodshot, his blond hair is a mess, and the dark shadows of his stubble give his face a menacing quality. Yes, I want him to fuck me raw. I want him to leave scratches, bruises, and red marks on me as proof of what I have done. I want him to fuck me until the physical pain numbs my entire being and my orgasms numb my mind.
In silence, we stare at each other for a long time. Arsen is the first one to speak. “Where have you been?” he asks shortly. “How come you haven’t answered my fucking phone calls? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night.” He drags his hands through his hair repeatedly. “You said you were going back to your house to end things with him. How long could that have taken you?”
Watching his anger surface is like watching a tornado about to hit an unsuspecting town. Powerful. Breathtaking. Devastating.
“What the fuck is going on? Why are you standing there saying nothing?” Arsen walks towards me and grabs me by the shoulders just like Ben did not two hours ago, shaking me forcefully, desperately. “You were with him, weren’t you? You spent the night with him,” he asks repugnantly.
Nodding, I hear him curse under his breath.
“Did you fuck him?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“How many times?”
I shake my head and try to move away from him, but Arsen tightens his grip on me, stopping me. “Look at me when I speak to you and answer my question.” His voice wavers, “How many fucking times, Catherine?” Once he realizes that I won’t answer him, he shakes me once more, almost as if the action will push the truth out. “Fucking answer!”
“Three times,” I say as I watch him flinch.
“Did you come?” he asks, swallowing hard.
“Yes.” I did. Every time.
“How?”
“What do you mean how?”
“How did he make you come? Did he fuck you from behind? Did he eat your pussy? Did he—”
“Stop! Stop!” I shout as I cover my ears. His words are making me sick. The truth makes me sick.
“Answer the fucking questions. How did he make you come? I want to know.”
“The first time he made love to me, he was on top of me. W-we came as we stared at each other. The second time, I sucked his dick until he came in my mouth as he a-ate my p-p-pussy. The third time, he fucked me from behind on the edge of our bed.”
“Did you think about me?” he asks hoarsely.
“No.”
Arsen lets go of me. Fisting his hands, he closes his eyes as his breathing accelerates. When he stares at me once more, the harsh look in his eyes makes me take a few steps back.
“Catherine, go to my room, get naked, and wait for me there. Do not ask fucking questions and do what I tell you.” He burns me with his blue gaze, “Go. Now.” He turns around and heads to his kitchen, leaving me alone.
In his bathroom, I take my Burberry trench coat off, my cream-colored cashmere sweater and skinny jeans next. My black-lace bra and panties are last. When I’m nude I walk out of his bathroom, expecting an empty room, but Arsen is already there, naked and slowly pumping his erection in his hand. As he watches me walk towards him with preying eyes, I can feel myself getting wet. A foot away from him, I’m about to reach for him and kiss him, but Arsen lifts a staying hand.
“Get on your knees,” he angrily commands. “I want you to get on your fucking knees. Now.”
Stunned, I try to process his words.
“I SAID NOW, YOU FUCKING SLUT! GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”
Wincing as if he has slapped me, I get on my knees in front of him. I want to be angry that he called me a slut, but I am one. I’m a whore who cheated on her husband and now I’m back in my lover’s apartment.
I am a slut.
I can feel the coolness of the marble floor seeping into my skin. I raise my eyes to stare at him standing above me, his raging erection so close to my face.
“Now open your mouth for me.”
As I open my mouth, I can feel a shameful flush covering me from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Mortified, I close my eyes as he grabs his dick in his hand and begins to push it inside my mouth.
“Open your eyes. I want to watch them as I fuck your face.”
When I do, we stare at each other as he fills my mouth with his throbbing erection. I wrap a hand around his dick and begin to lick the head, swallowing the pre cum that makes the tip glisten. My body is instantly aroused, and my nipples pebble under his gaze.
“Bite it,” Arsen orders, his breathing coming fast and short. “Let me feel your teeth around my cock.”
I shake my head no and I’m about to let go of him.
His hips push forward until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I’m kneeling and trying not to gag with his thrusts. Tears of shame burning my eyes, my vision is blurry as I look at his enraged face.
“I said to fucking bite it!”
He’s doing this on purpose.
Hurting me.
Humiliating me.
“Fuuuck!” he exclaims as I bite him. The sick and twisted side of me actually enjoys it. Physically hurting him.
His hands go to the back of my head, fisting my hair as he pulls me closer to him. Picking up the punishing pace, he thrusts into my mouth painfully and without mercy.
Faster.
Faster.
Trying to breathe through my nose, I fight my gag reflexes as my own saliva and tears cover my chin and face.
“This mouth,”
He thrusts deeper.
“is,”
He thrusts harder.
“mine.”
He explodes inside my mouth as he pumps a few more times until I have swallowed him clean. Arsen shivers and pulls himself out of my mouth with a popping sound. His shoulders and chest contracting with deep and heavy breathing, he looks down at me still kneeling on the floor with stormy eyes. “Remember that the next time you fuck your husband,” he states and leaves his bedroom.
****
I’m naked and sitting on the tile floor of his shower stall with my arms wrapped around my legs as scalding hot water pours down on me, stinging my skin and turning it a bright red.
I’m so numb.
So lost.
I shut my eyes tightly as I try to make the images of what happened back in the bedroom disappear. When I lean my head on my knees, feeling the boiling water burn my back, I hear Arsen opening the door to the bathroom. Not wanting to face him, I turn to look at the wall.
“Catherine…” he whispers huskily.
I ignore him as I feel a knot on the back of my throat. I can’t cry in front of him, he doesn’t deserve my tears, so I shut my eyes tighter and scoot closer to the wall.
I sense the moment Arsen kneels in front of me, his cool hands touching both of my knees. I open my eyes as he grabs my hand and moves to lie down on the floor, bringing me down with him and climbing on top of me, shielding me from the scalding water as it pours down on us. Face to face, chest to chest, beating heart against beating heart, both of his hands cupping my cheeks as we stare at each other.
Never this close.
Never this far.
I put my arms in between us to push him away, but he stops me when he begins to desperately kiss my lips. Between broken murmurs, Arsen whispers frantically against my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, stop. Don’t cry anymore. Don’t cry…I’m so sorry. I’m not worthy of your tears. Fuck. Fuck.”
Sitting on the floor, Arsen lifts me on top of him and holds me in his arms. My legs wrapped around his hips, I cannot bring myself to reciprocate the embrace, so I stare at his golden beauty as water drips down his face. I cry harder when I see the mistiness in his eyes.
“Oh, Arsen…” I whisper against his mouth. “Don’t you understand? I feel you on my skin, I feel your taste in my tongue, I feel your hardness inside me, and it’s never enough.”
“Fuck, Catherine. Please forgive me, forgive me, forgive me,” he repeats brokenly. He points to his chest with a closed fist, “This belongs to you. Only you, Catherine. It’s been yours since the day I met you, and it will be yours until you don’t want it anymore.” Growling, he pulls me closer to him, “I just want your hands on my body, your lips on my mouth, and your heart to be mine. Only mine.”
Lost in his words, we kiss, and then we fuck. But for once, it feels like he is making love to me.
Taste.
Sweat.
Feel.
Wetness.
Warmth.
Hardness.
Thrusts.
Fingers.
Slap…
Slap…
Slap…
Skin against skin.
Legs trembling.
Hair pulling.
Nails breaking through skin.
Arsen moving inside me.
My hands and legs wrapped around him.
His eyes boring into mine.
Aqua-blue fire burning me to ashes.
Nothing exists.
Nothing matters, but him.
It’s just Arsen.
And me.
Moving to the aggressive rhythm of his forceful thrusts.
Raw.
So Raw.
It hurts.
But I love it.
I love him.
His roughness feels like love.
His love is like a numbing drug.
He is my drug.
My numbness.
He whispers in my ear, “You belong to me...only me...I need you...we need each other.”
I close my eyes and get lost in mind numbing release, not hearing the last words he whispers in my ear as he comes inside me once more.
****
Sitting with my arms wrapped around my knees next to Arsen, I watch him sleep, looking so boyish and content. But even his perfection can’t stop the pain, the guilt, and shame from resurfacing. I’m disgusted by how low I’ve brought myself. I hate myself because I can’t let go of Arsen. And I hate myself for all the pain I’ve caused.