Page 23 of The Bad Brother

I F YOU’RE SO HEARTbrOKEN, WHY THE hell did just let a lowlife asshole like me put his dick in you?

His question rings in my ears and stains my cheeks with a sickening mixture of mortification and anger.

Stunned and embarrassed, I watch while Jensen tucks himself back into his pants, gives me a shitty I knew it kind of smirk and walks out and across the hall to his own apartment without a backward glance.

The slam of his front door echoes like a gunshot between us, jolting me off the dining room table I’m sitting on and onto rubbery legs that promise to dump me on my ass if I try to use them.

I’d rather fall on my face than stand here naked and on the verge of crying for one more fucking second.

Forcing my legs into compliance, I stumble my way to the open door to push it closed, with a slam hard enough to match Jensen’s, the crack of it so satisfying, I want to re-open the door, just so I can do it again.

Because I’ m naked and have serious doubts that I’m going to be able to make it up the steep, spiral staircase to bed, I lurch my way back to the dining room table, to the only article of clothing that’s readily available.

Pulling on the T-shirt Jensen left behind, I do my best to ignore the way my stomach tries to flip itself inside out when the smell of him fills my nose.

I want to feel that filthy little pussy of yours milk my cock.

As dressed as I’m going to get, I hobble my way into the kitchen where I stand at the sink and drink several glasses of water, leaning myself against the kitchen counter until I’m fairly certain my legs can take me where I want to go.

Intent on a shower and bed, I make it as far as the living room before I gas out.

Throwing myself onto the couch, I curl up in the corner of it before dragging its cashmere throw over me.

Cheek resting on the arm of the couch, I stare out the windows facing the river, the bright lights of Clearwater.

The hospital. The luxury, riverfront condos.

The posh country club owned by my stepfather, surrounded by palatial estates, glistening in the distance.

Jensen is right.

I should be heartbroken.

Ethan didn’t just break off our engagement. He ended things between us in the cruelest way possible. He did everything he could to destroy me. I should be devastated.

But I’m not.

I feel angry that someone I trusted could betray me so easily but if I’m being honest, while there is plenty left over for Ethan and the woman who spent three years calling herself my best friend, the majority of my anger is aimed at myself for not seeing them for who they really are before they got the better of me .

And I feel relief because the one kindness Ethan did me was show his true colors before I made the ultimate mistake of actually marrying him.

If all that cost me is a condo, a few designer dresses, some jewelry, and a pair of Louboutins, I count myself lucky, and it’s something I refuse to feel ashamed about.

Heartbroken?

Not in the slightest.

I had sex for the first time at a college party when I was twenty years old. Completely sober, I walked through the door with one objective—lose my virginity.

It took me less than an hour to find someone suitable and another twenty minutes to get it done.

He was kind and respectful. When he realized I was a virgin, he actually tried to talk me out of it.

While we were getting dressed, he asked if he could call me.

Maybe take me out for coffee sometime. I said sure, gave him the number for my favorite Chinese take-out place, and left.

We saw each other around campus occasionally but we never spoke. Just gave each other casual, polite smiles as we passed each other on our way to our prospective classes. I don’t even remember his name.

After that it was a brief affair with my anatomy lab partner in med school.

It lasted the semester. When we got back from winter break, he hinted that he’d like to start things back up but I declined, citing how intense the upcoming semester—my last—was going to be as my reason.

The truth was, that while fun, I’d grown bored with the affair and didn’t see the benefit of starting it back up.

After that, there was no one until Ethan.

I’m suddenly sure that if that kind, respectful frat boy had shoved me against a wall and told me to rub myself on his leg while whispering dirty words in my ear, I’d have given him my real number.

If the med student I slept with for a few months had wrapped his hand around my throat while he made me listen to the filthy sounds my pussy made while he fucked me, I’d have probably followed him home for Christmas and camped out on his doorstep.

And if Ethan had given even the slightest amount of fucks about making me come or if the things I let him do to me actually felt good, I would’ve happily choked on his cock whenever he wanted me to.

Not that I owe Jensen Barrett an explanation.

Nothing I could possibly say would change that man’s opinion of me so any effort would be a waste of time.

He made it clear that he’s perfectly capable of hating my guts and giving me mind-blowing orgasms, all at the same time.

Just as capable as I am of thinking he’s an insufferable, judgmental asshole while still hoping that wasn’t the last time he puts his hands on me.

Look at yourself… so desperate to come you’re fucking my leg.

Never in my life have I ever done something so impulsive. Given in so completely. One second, we were fighting and I threatened to zap him in the balls with my stun gun and the next, I’m shamelessly rubbing myself against him like a cat in heat. Begging him to fuck me. To come inside me.

Do you hear that? How wet your filthy pussy is for me. That’s how desperate you are for my cum.

My body has never made those sounds before. I’ve never been so aroused. So desperate to feel someone moving inside me. To be fucked. Used. Just the memory of it sends aftershocks of what was undoubtedly the best orgasm I’ve ever had, rocketing down my spine.

It's okay, Peach. I won’t tell anyone… it’ll be our little secret.

A part of me hopes he was lying. A part of me hopes Jensen tells someone and that someone tells someone and that someone tells someone until the fact that I give so little shits about him that I fucked my hot new landlord two weeks after he broke up with me and that it was the best sex of my life, somehow reaches Ethan and that his head explodes.

The thought is a happy one and it sends me off to sleep.

I WAKE UP WITH A START, THE SOUND OF A door closing, echoing in my ears.

Not an angry slam like last night. A crisp click that pulls me upright and leaves me wide-eyed and blinking while I look around the room.

I’m alone and the heat of the sun streaming through the windows on my face tells me it’s mid-morning.

Still looking around the room, I stand, the movement pushing a warm, not completely unpleasant soreness between my legs, while images of last night shuffle through my brain.

Hearing Jensen in that hallway outside my front door while I was doing dishes in my underwear. Threatening him with my stun gun.

How easily he took it away.

How much being pinned against the wall by him turned me on.

There’s only one way I want to make you scream…

Turning toward the dining room table, I feel my breath stall in my lungs when I spot the sweatshirt I abandoned in the hallway, folded neatly on the edge of it. On top of it is my stun gun.

What isn’t there are all the things that I assume belonged to Jensen’s fiancé that I gathered and boxed up. A vague recollection of him sweeping it all off the table after carrying me inside pulls my gaze to the floor. It’s not there either. It’s all gone.

Realization dawning, I lower myself down to the couch again on shaky legs. Perched on the edge of it, I reach for the coffee table drawer in front of me and open it. The framed photograph of Jensen and the woman I assume is his ex is gone. So is the engagement ring.

I haven’t been with anyone since she left…

Shame stinging my cheeks, I slowly close the open drawer and stand so I can go upstairs to get ready for my shift at the hospital.