Never Talk
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
793
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
793
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Never Talk
Never Talk
Author’s Notes: Please read and review. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.
Chapter 1
Chloe gasped as she felt Robert’s tongue on her clitoris and two of his fingers moving inside her. She watched his head between her legs as she came. Soon he lay on his back on the bed, his erection jutting forward, looking large and impossibly hard. She straddled his lap and sank down onto his erection with his hands holding her hips. She could feel him inside her stretching her inner muscles. She moved up and down, slowly at first but rapidly gaining momentum as her orgasm built. She was breathing shallowly and her nipples were incredibly hard. She threw her head back and moaned as she orgasmed for the second time that night. She looked down at Robert and felt him thrusting into her erratically as he climaxed without making a sound. Chloe put on a bathrobe and watched him as he finished dressing and got up from the bed. She followed him out of the bedroom, into the living room and watched him as he made to leave. When he got to the front door she called out to him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
He paused momentarily but didn’t say anything at all, didn’t even turn back to look at her. He stayed like, his hand gripping the doorknob strongly, his body coiled tightly as if tensed for attack, before turning the doorknob, opening the door and quietly closing it behind him as he left her apartment. She stared at the door for a while before turning and going back to her room to get her pajamas, she had to have her shower now, she was dirty.
She opened the door in her bedroom that led to her private bathroom. She stepped under the warm spray and felt the hot water roll down her skin. As she rubbed the shower gel onto her skin with a bath sponge she cried. And as the tears rolled down her cheeks mingling with the drops of water she thought of how much she loved him and hated him. She hated him with her mind, body, and soul; and all through her shower she marveled at how closely her hatred of him resembled her love. She stepped out of the shower feeling exhausted. She dried herself with a fluffy, white towel and got dressed for bed.
As she lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling, almost completely engulfed by the covers she wondered why she allowed this. She wondered how she could let him do this to both their lives. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t sane. It was sick and it was wrong and it was any and every other multitude of adjectives that aptly described the sheer depravity of the situation. He was married to another woman.
She shifted and turned to her right so she could look at the clock. It was 11:47 p.m. She wondered if he’d gotten home safe and what he’d tell Stephanie. He would most probably say he had been working late; it was true after all (she should know since they worked together). He would not, however, tell her he’d gone to his colleague’s apartment, and had sex with her. He wouldn’t tell her he had done it before and would do it again and again and again until he couldn’t do anymore.
Her eyes clouded over and she started crying again. Let the waterworks commence, she thought cynically. Poor, poor Chloe. It must be horrible to have the man you love, a married man, come to your apartment and make you orgasm. My heart breaks for you, she thought as the tears continued falling on her pillow. The problem was her heart did break. Every time they had sex and every time he left because they weren’t having sex, her heart broke a little bit more until she was afraid it would break so irrevocably that she would have to rid herself of it for fear that the constant aching would drive her mad.
Author’s Notes: Please read and review. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated.
Chapter 1
Chloe gasped as she felt Robert’s tongue on her clitoris and two of his fingers moving inside her. She watched his head between her legs as she came. Soon he lay on his back on the bed, his erection jutting forward, looking large and impossibly hard. She straddled his lap and sank down onto his erection with his hands holding her hips. She could feel him inside her stretching her inner muscles. She moved up and down, slowly at first but rapidly gaining momentum as her orgasm built. She was breathing shallowly and her nipples were incredibly hard. She threw her head back and moaned as she orgasmed for the second time that night. She looked down at Robert and felt him thrusting into her erratically as he climaxed without making a sound. Chloe put on a bathrobe and watched him as he finished dressing and got up from the bed. She followed him out of the bedroom, into the living room and watched him as he made to leave. When he got to the front door she called out to him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
He paused momentarily but didn’t say anything at all, didn’t even turn back to look at her. He stayed like, his hand gripping the doorknob strongly, his body coiled tightly as if tensed for attack, before turning the doorknob, opening the door and quietly closing it behind him as he left her apartment. She stared at the door for a while before turning and going back to her room to get her pajamas, she had to have her shower now, she was dirty.
She opened the door in her bedroom that led to her private bathroom. She stepped under the warm spray and felt the hot water roll down her skin. As she rubbed the shower gel onto her skin with a bath sponge she cried. And as the tears rolled down her cheeks mingling with the drops of water she thought of how much she loved him and hated him. She hated him with her mind, body, and soul; and all through her shower she marveled at how closely her hatred of him resembled her love. She stepped out of the shower feeling exhausted. She dried herself with a fluffy, white towel and got dressed for bed.
As she lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling, almost completely engulfed by the covers she wondered why she allowed this. She wondered how she could let him do this to both their lives. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t sane. It was sick and it was wrong and it was any and every other multitude of adjectives that aptly described the sheer depravity of the situation. He was married to another woman.
She shifted and turned to her right so she could look at the clock. It was 11:47 p.m. She wondered if he’d gotten home safe and what he’d tell Stephanie. He would most probably say he had been working late; it was true after all (she should know since they worked together). He would not, however, tell her he’d gone to his colleague’s apartment, and had sex with her. He wouldn’t tell her he had done it before and would do it again and again and again until he couldn’t do anymore.
Her eyes clouded over and she started crying again. Let the waterworks commence, she thought cynically. Poor, poor Chloe. It must be horrible to have the man you love, a married man, come to your apartment and make you orgasm. My heart breaks for you, she thought as the tears continued falling on her pillow. The problem was her heart did break. Every time they had sex and every time he left because they weren’t having sex, her heart broke a little bit more until she was afraid it would break so irrevocably that she would have to rid herself of it for fear that the constant aching would drive her mad.