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I fucked him for revenge and I don’t regret it. He cheated. Lied. Thought I wouldn’t find out. So I called the one man he always hated. His rival. His opposite. Tall, quiet, intense—the kind of man who didn’t have to raise his voice to make you submit. The kind of man who never needed to lie. He just took. I invited him over. Told him the truth. “I need to forget him. Make me.”
He didn’t ask questions. He just shut the door and backed me into the wall, his mouth crashing into mine like punishment and relief at once. It wasn’t gentle. Not even sweet. It was war—and my body was the battlefield. He ripped my clothes off like they offended him. Bent me over the counter and fucked me like I wasn’t just someone’s ex—I was his now.
“Is this how he touched you?” he growled, slamming into me. “Did he make you scream like this?” I answered with moans. With nails digging into his back. With every arch of my hips that begged him to go harder. He gripped my throat—not to choke, just to own me. His free hand fisted my hair, yanking my head back Continue reading “I Fucked Him For Revenge”