Page 24 of Wreckage of My Life
“Dylan!” I am so loud, I worry that the concierge two floors down heard us.
I don’t even realize when he stops, and his cock is back inside. He drops his chest back onto mine and takes my mouth in a scorching kiss, making me taste myself off his tongue and lips. My pussy starts contracting painfully, squeezing his cock as hard as it can. I come so hard, my mind is a burst of color that I can’t process.
He starts thrusting into me with more force, but never takes his mouth off mine until I feel him coming. He lifts his head just enough to growl into my face. The passion behind it makes my pussy spasm more in response.
I feel Wrecker, Dylan, whatever he calls himself, let his heavy weight drop on top of me, crushing me into the mattress, but I can’t make myself to care. He’s literally fucked me into oblivion.
This is the best night of my life.
11
Becca
The alarmI set on my phone last night is now scaring the shit out of me when it starts blaring. Why did I think it was a good idea to set it on this ringtone? I sit up straight and grab the phone from the nightstand, rushing to turn it off. I guess the horrible ringtone is incentive enough to wake up as soon as it goes off.
I fall back on the pillow and turn my head to the empty one next to me. I run a finger gently over it, wishing it was Dylan’s face I was touching. I refuse to think of him as Wrecker anymore.
That was an incredibly stupid name, such a relief to find out that he has a name I actually love. I’m sure my love of it started back when I was little and watched with my mom an episode of 90210. Dylan McKay was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, the epitome of a bad boy.
Who would’ve thought that years later, I’d find myself a real life bad boy named Dylan? Too bad I couldn’t keep him too, I think to myself with sadness.
Last night touched me in so many different ways, crushed my soul but also put it back together. I’m sure that, given the opportunity, I could fall in love with him. Both my brain and my heart want him so badly.
I don’t even know when he left last night. All the things he did to me, which will be forever engraved in every cell of my body, depleted me of all the energy I thought I had when he first showed up. It was close to four in the morning when he finally allowed me to close my eyes. I fell asleep like the dead as soon as he placed the softest kiss on my lips. That’s the last time I am aware of him being in this room.
I sigh and push the covers off me. I need to take a shower and get dressed. My flight is in three hours, and I have to return my rental car first thing when I get to the airport.
“Oh my god,” I gasp and slap a hand over my mouth when I catch a glimpse of myself in the large mirror above the bathroom sink.
The front of my body is covered in bruises, it just sounds so immature to call them hickeys, from all the biting and sucking of my skin he did for hours last night. I touch one particular spot right over my left breast. Over my heart. I wish I could keep it there forever.
My eyes fill with tears. I feel so emotional all of a sudden. This week, although not the adventure I was expecting, turned into the best of my life. It taught me what real passion felt like, and I worry that now I won’t want to give a good man a chance because Dylan ruined me for good.
I don’t know how I’m going to recover from this experience.
I have to, though, I resolve as I wipe at my face furiously.
I turn around to start the shower, throwing one more look in the mirror to examine my back as well, expecting to see it as wonderfully used as the front. What I see there makes my heart stop altogether. I get closer to the mirror trying to decipher what I’m seeing.
In a second of lucidity, I run back to the bed and grab my phone, then rush back to the mirror. I turn my back to it and use my phone to take a picture of my reflection.
I bring it down and look at the image, tapping at it to zoom in.
“Oh, Dylan,” I am crying with hiccups now. Right there, in the middle of my back, lengthwise from the top of my shoulder blades and down to my waist, he used my black eyeliner to leave me a message.
Goodbye, sweet Becca. I’ll remember you. Dylan x
I hate that this had to happen at this point in my life. Even if Dylan didn’t just leave me like this in the hotel room, we would never work. His life seems to be grounded here in Texas. Club life is everything to him from what I gathered, and that is not the life I’d want for myself. They are criminals after all.
Also, my entire life is in Montana. Colton may be my only family, but I could never uproot him like that. He’s doing so well in school and he is focused on his football career. There’s been chatter of him getting a scholarship to play in college. That would be a dream come true for him, and I’d be ruining it for him if I just decided on a whim to move him to Texas.
Bottom line, me and Dylan could never be. And it’s breaking my heart.
I step into the shower, worried now that Dylan’s farewell message to me will wash off. I cry a little more while rinsing my hair, then finally turn the water off. I dry myself off with a towel, then I’m finally dressed and ready to go.
Before I step out the door, I turn my head for a last look at the space that’s given me the best memories. This is where I have to leave Dylan, on that disheveled bed. I can’t let this ruin the rest of my life. I am too young to pine over a man, I tell myself.
With shoulders pulled back, I let the door close behind me and pull my suitcase down the hall to the elevator. I don’t remember about the bruises on my neck until I notice a lady down in the lobby watching me like I’ve grown two heads.
