“Jesus, you’re killing me.” I slap that soft, tempting little ass she’s rubbing into my groin like we haven’t already fucked three times in the last two hours.
“More!”
“I said no.” I spank her again and something shifts. She squeals and growls her tiny growl and I growl right back at her—she’s fucking challenging me?—then I’m peppering her bottom with hard, flat slaps until my hand is on fire and her ass is glowing.
“More!” she hisses at me.
I fist my hand in her hair and push her cheek down into a pillow while continuing to light up her ass. “No, bad baby.”
“More!” she demands.
“I said no,” I growl back at her even as I’m pulling her hips into the air and mounting her from behind. “You do not dictate when I fuck you.”
“More-more-more!” she howls and throws herself back onto my cock.
I pin her in the pillows and hump her like a madman until she’s screaming as she comes, and I pull out of her at the last minute and spray all over her bright red ass.
I sit back on my heels in horror.
“Oh, fuck. Baby, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry.” I mop her up with a towel.
She turns onto her hip and watches me. “Why’z you sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to hold you down like that. Or fuck you bareback. I’m so sorry.”
“I want you to!” She shouts at me before she jumps up and runs through the kitchen and slams the bathroom door behind her.
I drag myself up to go after her when I see a string of notifications pop up on her phone that she’s pushed to the edge of our nest. Inster. Snapper. Tikker. And a message.
Jun: Call me now. If you don’t come home tonight, I’ll report you missing to the police.
My heart freezes in my chest. Who is Jun? She hasn’t mentioned him. We’ve talked about her parents and her grandmother and some of her fairy kei friends, but not a single mention of Jun.
Come home. They live together.
I scoop up her phone and follow her to the bathroom. I knock on the door. Not hard. I don’t want to scare or intimidate her.
“Cynnie?”
“Go ‘way!”
“Baby, please open the door. You need to call whoever Jun is.”
The door opens and she stands there naked, in the cloud of her own mussed hair, tears streaking her cheeks. I open my arms to her even while I kick myself mentally. I made her cry. I need to fix this, no matter who Jun is or what’s going on.
Instead of coming to me, she snatches the phone out of my hand and slams the bathroom door.
I lean my forehead against it and feel the sharp bite of shame in my chest. I made her cry. I didn’t fix it. And she turned to Jun.
I hear her voice through the door, but I can’t hear what she’s saying, and I push myself away before I do anything invasive like press my ear to the door. I plod upstairs and climb into the shower. The first shower I’ve taken without Cynnie in three days. I make it quick and pull on a T-shirt and shorts before I go back downstairs.
She’s sitting on the couch, wearing the outfit she came in since she doesn’t have any other clothes. Our nest on the floor is gone, everything neatly folded and piled next to her on the couch.
I stop a few feet away, scratching my arm absently and wondering what to say to her.
“My family’s worried,” she says quietly, not looking at me. “They want me to come home.”
She can’t leave me, not like this. Not when we’ve just had our first semi-fight. Not when I’m not sure she’s coming back.
