I lay in the dark listening to the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. I saw her face every time I closed my eyes.
‘Do you regret marrying me?’ she’d asked.
No. Not even for a heartbeat. So, why hadn’t I told her that? Why had I just sat there and let her believe that wasn’t the truth?
Because I was a selfish Cabrón. Because loving her made me feel exposed. I worried about her every second of every day. That someone might hurt her because of me made me feel like someone constantly had a knife to my heart. And, so I wanted to her to have some idea of how that felt.
I still had no idea who was behind my father’s attempted murder and the fact that some madman was out there with a desire to hurt my family terrified me. The guilt, shame and anger ate me up day and night. And I had taken it all out on the one person I loved more than anything else in the world. The one person I was most terrified of losing.
I should have followed her up to bed. I should have pulled off her clothes, pinned her to the bed and buried myself in her. That was the way we resolved our issues. That was what grounded me.
I needed her. So why the hell was I lying alone in bed halfway across the city?
Even my cock was weeping for her. I reached down and wrapped my fist around my shaft, squeezing tightly for some relief. Wishing it was her hands on me. Wishing that it was her tight, hot pussy squeezing me instead of my own hand.
I closed my eyes and pictured her lying in bed. Was she thinking about me too? Touching herself in those places that belonged to me? I moved my hand up and down, stroking my length as I remembered how sweet she tasted. How she was always willing to let me do anything I wanted to her. No matter how hard or rough, or often I fucked her, she always took it all. My chest burned with anger, shame and arousal as I kept pumping my shaft and imagining it was her.
When I finally found my release, I shouted her name into the darkness.
