He moves in and out of me slowly, easing himself farther down my throat with each shallow thrust. That is until those thrusts are no longer shallow and he’s completely buried down my throat.
Hawk tugs my neck back a little farther as he dips his chin and continues to hold my gaze. “Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck.”
He doesn’t say anything else, his breathing picks up and he starts to pant as he pulls out of me, then buries himself all the way down my throat again. His strokes become relentless. This should start to feel like a punishment, but even as tears and saliva start to slide down my cheeks and chin, I feel nothing but pleasure.
“You’ll swallow every single drop,” he grinds out as he begins to thrust even faster.
His grip in my hair tightens, tugging against my scalp and I let out a moan right before he stills, burying himself completely and comes. I’m forced to swallow every drop, just as he demands, though I would anyway—for him.
When he’s finished, he pulls out of me, his hand still gripping my hair tightly as he leans forward, his nose almost touching mine. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but the anger in his eyes, the rage that fills him, it hasn’t ebbed at all.
“Clean your fuckin’ self up, and stay in this goddamn room, Avah.”
He tugs his pants up his hips, turns around, and walks out of the door, slamming it behind him. I stay frozen at the edge of the bed, on my knees with saliva and tears running down my face, my red lipstick and makeup completely fucking ruined as I stare at the closed door.
I expect him to come back inside, to take me in his arms and to fuck me. He doesn’t. Instead, I’m left staring at the closed door for far longer than I should. Narrowing my gaze on the wooden piece, as if that object somehow is to blame, I growl in its direction as I climb up off the floor.
I’m glad that there is an attached bathroom in this room and I don’t have to further embarrass myself by walking around the hallways looking like a fucking disaster. Stomping toward the bathroom, I slam the door behind me and lock it just for good measure.
Refusing to look at my reflection in the mirror, I start the shower and slip inside, washing my body and my face, scrubbing myself until my skin is red and raw. I feel dirty and angry all at the same time.
Tears spill down my cheeks and I instantly hate myself for crying like a little bitch. I’m bigger than this, bigger than my own stupid feelings. I can’t even remember the last time that I cried because some man hurt my feelings or made me feel like shit.
Once I’ve cried and cleaned myself up, I dress in sleep shorts and a tank top, no bra, and slide on my sandals before I head toward the laundry room. I’m completely makeup-less, my hair is in a messy bun and I look as worn out, tired, stressed, and annoyed as I feel.
A sense of relief fills me as I walk into the laundry room, thankful that I didn’t run into anyone along the way and that this room is empty. Throwing my meager amount of clothes into the washer, I sigh at the heavily scented detergents that line the shelf.
“I doubt they’ve ever heard of a free and clear detergent,” a voice mutters.
Spinning around, I freeze at the sight of the woman standing in front of me. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her and she looks a hell of a lot different without her face being swollen and covered in bruises.
“Sable,” I sneer.
She smirks, her gaze searching mine. “I’m back, bitch.” She laughs.
“Do you need Trista to serve you a little reminder of why you left in the first place?” I ask.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“Do you have a reason for being here?” I ask as I turn around and start the washing machine.
When the machine is started, I face the bitch again, crossing my arms as I wait for her response. She doesn’t say anything right away, her eyes search mine for a moment and whatever she sees, she must think that she’s found it, that she’s beat me or better than me in some way.
“I’m back where I belong, though I’m not sure anyone could say the same about you.”
Laughing, though the humor is not in my tone at all, I smirk. “I’m not sure who you think you’re in competition with, but it’s not me.”
She hums. “We’ll see about that, I suppose. I’ve come to terms I’ll never be an Old Lady, but I also know that I have a place here and you don’t.”
“And I’ll never be an Old Lady either, right?”
She takes a step back. “Maybe you will. But considering the one you’re hung up on is the most unattainable man in this place, I highly doubt it. You should have gone for Keaston, I’m just saying.”
At the mention of Keaston’s name, my spine straightens. “So you’ve been the one entertaining him?” I ask.
She licks her lips, her eyes shifting to the side, then coming back to meet my own. “You really should have just stayed with him. Great cock and knows how to use it, tongue too. Though Hawk’s is pretty remarkable too, so can’t say I don’t blame you for wanting another taste of him.”
“Did you just say that to me?” I whisper.
“Keaston knows what he’s doing, he’s packing too. I’m just letting you know in case you’re having doubts about your neighbor. Things with Hawk won’t last long and Keaston is easy access. Plus, he seems like a pretty decent guy.”
“So you’re just the friendly clubwhore helping a girl out?” I ask.
Sable laughs as she
