His thick hard cock slams into my tight cunt, hard and painful. His eyes are glazed, like he isn’t present. My cunt is wet and eager for more. My body still wants him.

I reach for him, needing to feel more than just his cock pounding into me, I need the connection we once had, but he grips my slim wrists and pins my arms above my head. He doesn’t want me touching him. I hurt him and now he is punishing me.

With my arms pinned above my head, he uses his other hand to slide down over my body. Cupping my left breast, he flicks his thumb over my pebbled nipple, making me gasp, it’s the only sound in the room. His hands move lower, his fingers drawing a lazy pattern over my skin, dipping into my belly button. Lower still, 'til the palm of his hand rests on my smooth mound, and his thumb presses against my clit. His touch no longer feels like him, it’s devoid of the passion that once heated my skin. He feels cold and clinical with his caresses. But still, my body wants him.

Humiliation washes over me, my body is betraying me. It’s acting on muscle memory of the man who once drove it wild with need, but my head knows that this is wrong, that it doesn’t feel right. This isn’t us anymore, it’s broken and angry. I feel tears leak out from the corner of my eyes and I watch him turn his head, pretending he hasn’t noticed. But still, I want him.

He picks up speed and I can tell he is close. I watch him, my eyes greedily drink him in. His dark eyes that used to be filled with laughter, now can’t even look at me. His mouth that used to kiss me freely now twisted with disgust. His body that I’d curl up against is no longer mine. I take everything in, filing it away like photographs, to bring out when I’m alone.

My tears fall as freely as I’m giving myself to him, knowing this is the last time I will feel his weight on my body. The last time I will feel that glorious stretching as he slides into me, claiming me. He doesn’t want me anymore, this is just to show me that even though I fucked up, he can fuck me harder. So I lie there, accepting the little of himself he is giving me. Because I still want him.

He pulls out at the last moment, freeing my wrist to wrap his hand around his engorged cock, glistening with my juices, he strokes himself. His fist moves up and down his shaft in quick succession, till his balls tighten and his cock starts to flex. He grunts as he shoots his load again and again; it splatters across my stomach. His last act of punishment, knowing I love it when he cums inside me, feeling the heat coat the inside walls of my cunt. He wants to hurt me, like I’ve hurt him.

I lie there, empty, in more ways than one. He doesn’t care that I didn’t climax, he was never going to allow that to happen anyway. I watch him get up from the bed, my eyes following every movement as he gets dressed. Still, he hasn’t looked at me, but it’s too late, I stare at his retreating back wanting to stop him from leaving, knowing he is not mine to keep anymore. I watch him leave for the very last time.

But I still will always want him.