Page 103 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

He’s lying to me.Unbelievable.

I scoff, then walk towards the door to grab my tote.

“You’re a fucking liar, Alexander.” My legs are wobbly, and my voice feels the same.

I shuffle through the bag for my phone as he towers over me, and I’ve never felt so small or insignificant in my entire life.

“Where are you going?” he asks, sounding nervous. Or maybe that’s me hoping he doesn’t sound completely indifferent.His indifference would kill me.

“For a walk,” I huff. “And then, probably to an airport.” I finally find my phone and slip my tote over my shoulder.

I don’t even have a wedding ring to give back to him. Our ending feels anticlimactic that way. We aren’t at home where him or me leaving would mean something. There are no suitcases to pack. They hadn’t even been delivered to our room yet.

It’s just...goodbye.

I stare at him, giving myself this one moment to see him. He’s almost nothing like the man who stood with me in a cold parkinglot in Las Vegas. He’s changed for the better. And maybe that was my only purpose here. To get him to the other side.

Fine, universe. That’s just great. Not my time. Got it.

I turn away from him, then reach for the doorknob and leave.

Walking towards the elevator, I commend myself for not crying. At least not yet. At least not in front of him. Sure, my hands might be shaking, my ears are ringing and hot, and I might be weak in the knees, but I’m still standing and not hyperventilating.

I press the down button and wait.

I don’t even have time to process what’s happening when my back is slammed against the corridor wall. His hands are hard, and his mouth is on mine. It’s feverish and manic and rough. He pulls at my hair and slams his body flush against mine, where I can feel him hard, straining for me.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says while fighting back tears. “I didn’t mean any of it.” He kisses my forehead and my cheeks. He kisses away the few stray tears that had run away after all.

I don’t know whether to thank him, or punch him, or ask him to fuck me right now.

He takes the decision out of my hands, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his waist. He walks us back to the room where the door is still propped open by the lock. He kicks it inwards, throws my tote on the ground, and walks us backward towards the primary bedroom.

He’s panting by the time we’re standing in front of the bed, his forehead pressing against mine.

“Say something,” he commands me.

But I can’t. I shake my head against his.

With one hand under my ass supporting me, his other hand comes up, clamping around the back of my neck as he lowers me slowly to the bed. He places me there almost reverently, never breaking eye contact. I feel our connection so intensely; it’s anearly tangible attachment to him, even though he’s severed us emotionally.

“Please, baby,” his voice quakes as he begs against my lips, kneeing my legs apart. He’s making room to cage me in on the bed.

I say the first thing that comes to mind, “I hate you.” And I mean it. And then he’s kissing me hard again. He lifts my pelvis up, and his hard length runs back and forth across my covered slit.

My words say, “I hate you,” but my body says, “I can’t get enough.” My tongue seeks out his, and my hands are gripping tightly onto his biceps. There’s hardly enough room to fit a single piece of paper between us.

I’ve wanted this for so long, but he’s kept me at arm’s length for months. And nowthis. I want to knee him in the balls, then lick his cock from root to tip. I want to bite him and draw blood, then have him fuck me so hard he draws blood, too.

My feelings are duplicitous as my body betrays my mind.

All it takes is one finger sliding down the front of my shirt, and every button pops off. I gasp as small, pearly white buttons litter the bed.

He breaks the lock on my mouth with a bite, then leans back to slide off my leggings and sneakers. He proceeds to lose his t-shirt and rip the belt out of his jeans, making me inhale sharply at the tightwhippingsound. It has my walls clenching and yearning. My inner thighs already burn with anticipation.

Without him asking, I lose my shirt but leave the bra. It’s a white, lacy demi-cup that barely contains my nipples. They strain hard against the fabric, and I watch his cock spring forward as he watches me.

And then his naked body is back over mine. Cupping a breast in one hand, he sucks the nipple straight through the lace. Myback arches, and I claw to get closer to him, bringing his bare cock down between my legs.