He didn’t touch her. He didn’t even look at her the way he looked at me.
And maybe that’s wrong. Maybe that’s delusional. Maybe I’m a little too cocky right now. But I don’t care. Because while his fancy, lip-gloss-wearing, rehab-returning wife was downstairs pretending like she still mattered, I was the one moaning into a pillow, getting eaten out like it was his last meal.
I was the one with his tongue on my c**t, his hands holding my thighs open, his voice calling me kitten like I was something holy. And that? That’s enough to get me through a hundred awkward school days.
So I’ll go. I’ll walk through those school gates with my head held high, my p***y still aching, and my heart beating just a little faster.
~~
I was halfway down the stairs, trying to walk like a normal person an
