He was sobbing. Just sobbing, straight tears streaming down his face like a broken faucet, hot and relentless, soaking his collar and the floor beneath him as he slumped against the door.
The sobs wracked his body, guttural, each one tearing at his chest.
"This..This one hurts man.."
He squeezed out, voice trembling.
Rucci's smirk haunted him....
That lazy, satisfied curl of her lips, her pussy still oozing with Hadrian's cum as she slammed the door in his face.
The betrayal wasn't just a knife to the gut it was a fucking chainsaw, shredding everything he'd built with her.
Sweet, loyal Rucci?
A myth.
A lie he'd told himself.
Something he'd made up for himself to believe....
Just so he wouldn't have to think about the many red flags in their relationship.
Looking at his palm he thought.
" —And what about my own guilt? "
It paled in comparison now.
A petty shadow in the face of this annihilation.
He cried for what they'd lost, more like what HE had lost.
he cried for the love he'd built up, for the way her body had arched under another man, begging for more.
Sadly... he had lacked any redeeming quality's to have her love all to himself.
He had nobody to blame except himself.
Tears blurred the hallway, his vision swimming in a haze of guilt and shame .... And most importantly, a shattered trust on his behalf.
Then,
After what felt like an eternity, he wiped his face off with the back of his sleeve, the fabric rough against his swollen eyes.
He sniffled, a wet, pathetic sound that echoed in the empty corridor, then pushed himself up on shaky legs.
His knees buckled for a second, but he steadied himself, staring blankly at the door.
Five steps. He took exactly five steps before looking back....
His gaze lingering on the cold wood for a beat, head dipping low as if in silent acknowledgment.
A life what used a to be, a future that never made it.
A reality destroyed by his own wrong doings...
Maybe that was karma?
Or maybe it was just fate.
Who knows. Eitherways—
"I fucked up."
He turned and slowly walked off, each step heavier than the last, a subtle surrender to the inevitable.... a subtle reminder,
to move forward
He made it to his car, slamming the door as he entered with a force that rattled the frame.
Adjusting the mirror, he caught sight of his darkened eyes...red-rounded, hollow, like pits of despair staring back at him.
He sighed, a deep, weary exhale that fogged the glass, then started the car.
The engine rattled and began humming.
He drove off into the night, the city's lights streaking past like accusing fingers.
Memories flooded him, unbidden and cruel...Rucci's laugh, the way she'd curl into him on lazy Sundays like a cute plush, her lips on his neck whispering promises.
Promises that he now knew were nothing but words.
"I love you," she'd said, and he'd believed it.
He believed all of it.
He always did.
Now, those words tasted bitter.
Tears pricked his eyes again, hot and insistent, but he blinked them back fiercely, focusing on the road ahead...
He reached home before he unraveled completely. Thoughts still spinning, head still aching, heart still...burning.
He entered the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoed his mood.
He kicked off his boots, the thudding sound grounding him in the mundane.
Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, then flicked on the TV...some mindless sitcom blaring nonsense...he clicked the power button, taking it off then threw it back onto the couch with a frustrated grunt.
It bounced once, fell off the couch, and hit the tiled floor hard, the back cover popping off and the batteries rolling underneath nearby furniture.
He didn't care.
Walking to his room, he dashed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight like a cushion.
The pillows grabbed onto him, soft and suffocating, pulling him into their embrace.
Sleep gnawed at him instantly.
He teared up into the pillow, the fabric soaking up his silent sorrow, but he didn't cry..not fully.
The sobs had drained him dry.
Finally, exhaustion claimed him, pulling him under into a seamlessly, dreamless sleep.
BBEEEEEP BBEEEEEP BBEEEEEP
He awoke to his alarm ringing so loud it pierced his skull like a drill, an instant headache blooming behind his eyes.
Groaning, he fumbled for the clock, tempted to smash it against the wall...that however, would do nothing, he knew it too, it would just leave him with a mess and even more regret.
Stumbling to the bathroom, he stared into the mirror, circles under his eyes like bruises, just like yesterday, his pupils carrying no weight, just a blank void staring back.
He washed his face, cold water splashing against his skin, trying to shock some life into it.
Looking up again, he finally spoke his first words since standing at her door:
"You look fucking pathetic."
His voice was rough and hollow, echoing off the tiles.
He held a deep stare into his own soul, searching for something...anger, resolve, anything—but found only emptiness.
The reflection mocked him, a ghost of the man who'd driven to confess, now reduced to this shell.
Then came the "getting ready part" of the day, a mechanical routine to armor himself against the day.
He shrugged into his suit, the fabric crisp, knotting his tie with practiced fingers that trembled slightly from exhaustion from the previous day.
Business attire complete....polished shoes and a gleaming tie, he headed off.
Driving like a madman through the morning traffic, weaving between cars with reckless speed.
Horns blared, but he didn't care...the speed was a distraction, a way to outrun the memories currently clawing at his mind.
When he finally got out, parking in the lot, he felt better.
Breathing in the morning air was something special...fresh, crisp, a stark contrast to the stale despair of his apartment.
It filled his lungs, reminding him he was still alive, still breathing, even if his heart felt like it had been stomped flat.
"I can always try again...over and over."
He said flatly, the words more of encouragement to himself than reassurance.
As soon as he entered through the company doors, she latched onto him.
Korra.
He sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion.
She looked at him, smiling brightly, her extroverted energy a stark contrast to his gloom.
Always latching onto everyone, especially him, being a nuisance—The Usual.
"Korra... not today," he said blankly, his voice flat, devoid of the usual banter.
She tilted her head, her smile faltering into something cheeky.
"Did your girly wirly bweak up witchu?" she teased, mimicking a pout with puppy eyes, her voice squeaking in that playful way that usually got a laugh out of him.
He stared at her blankly, emotion not changing, his face a mask of indifference. The words had hit too close.
"Oh... OH." She said, realizing she'd hit the bullseye, her eyes widening in sudden understanding.
She continued, stuttering, her cheeks flushing.
"I-I didn't kn—"
He cut her off, his tone gentle but firm.
"It's aight. Get back to work before the boss sees you slacking."
He smiled a bit, a faint, forced curve of his lips, and patted her shoulder lightly before walking off.
She stared at him as he walked away, her gaze lingering, she blushed a bit, the color creeping up her neck.
She shook her head, as if dismissing the thought, and headed off to her desk.
He headed to his chair, sitting down heavily and listening to all the arguments occurring in the workplace.
Their business was an investment firm, and a lot of things were apparently going badly.
Voices raised in panic around the open-plan office.
He sat there, still in a blank state, his mind a fog of betrayal and exhaustion.
Then, time sped up again, it was lunchtime all of a sudden, He was sipping coffee again...
The bitter liquid burning his throat, but it was a distraction.
He went to the highest window he could find, the executive floor's observation deck, overlooking the bustling street below.
Leaning against the glass, he looked downwards... and there she was again.
Maliah.
Standing there as if she was waiting on his arrival, her figure poised, eyes scanning the entrance.
He sighed, chugging the rest of his cup in one go, the heat searing his insides.
Throwing it in a nearby bin with a clatter, he headed downstairs.
Maliah was looking at her phone, staring up at the building, then back at her phone, checking the time.
"He's 10 minutes late..."
She sighed, frustration mixing with anticipation.
Before he arrived, she'd been replaying their alley encounter in her mind—
The raw fuck, his cock pounding her, the way he'd filled her with cum.
It had been intoxicating, a high she craved, but now doubt crept in.
She turned off her phone, slipping it into her pocket, and stepped away as if to leave, her heels clicking on the pavement.
Then—
"Yo."
She froze, then turned around quickly, blinking fast as if shy, her cheeks heating.
His voice was rougher than usual, gravelly from lack of sleep, and that kind of immediately turned her on—
A primal edge that made her pussy twitch.
"What'd you want?" He said blankly, his eyes scanning her without emotion.
She couldn't form words properly, stuttering. "I uh... well..."
He stared blankly at her before looking to the floor, his posture slumping.
"I can't keep seeing you." He said flatly, the words hanging like a verdict.
She sighed again, this time not surprised, her expression shifting to resignation.
"Did your girlfriend find out?"
He looked to the left of him, avoiding her gaze.
"No, but... I don't think we should keep doing this."
She looked at him in confusion, tilting her head. "Eh?"
"I don't feel any love towards you... And that's the most important part about sex... So I don't think we sho—"
Before he could finish his sentence, he realized she was walking towards him, closing the distance with purposeful steps.
Then she leaned up, tip-toeing to reach his ear, her breath hot against his skin.
"Feel it," she whispered.
A cold sensation ran throughout his body.
He couldn't move, frozen in place, his mind screaming warnings but his body betraying him.
She grabbed his hand, placing it on her pussy.
right there on the street, bold and unapologetic.
It was wet, soaking through her panties, her arousal evident, hot and slick against his palm.
His body went into overdrive...cold sweat beading on his forehead, horniness surging like a tidal wave, his male instincts screaming for release.
The small, left over guilt from Rucci clashed with this raw desire, but it was overwhelming, his cock stirring despite himself.
Before he could even register anything fully, she walked away, looking back over her shoulder. "After work?"
"After work." The words slipped out, but it was his body who responded, not him.
his voice hoarse, automatic, driven by the heat pooling in his dick.
She smirked, a wicked curve of her lips, before walking off, her hips swaying with deliberate tease.
Leaving him there, eyes following her movements, tracing the curvature of her ass, the way her skirt hugged her thighs.
He stood rooted, hand still tingling from the contact, his mind reeling.
He walked back to his cubicle, and sat down, looking up and rubbing the side of his neck.
He muttered to himself, a mix of awe and dread in his tone.
"Damn... She's freaky."