It was supposed to have been a pleasant evening. I had dressed up for him, and we had made plans to go to dinner and a show. Fortunately, we hadn’t made reservations or bought advance tickets, because we never left the house. One wrong word was all it took, and suddenly we were arguing. I don’t think either one of us could have said what we were actually arguing about. But there we were, our screams adding fuel to the flames of our tempers, until I had finally had enough. I stopped yelling, took a deep breath, and got up to get my coat. When it dawned on him that I was actually leaving, he sprinted across the room and slammed the door closed just as I was pulling it open. I whirled around, ready to push him away so I could leave, but he caught my wrists and pushed me back against the door. He pinned my wrists above my head and kissed me roughly, almost bruising my lips. I struggled, trying to push him away, but my I could feel my anger giving way to desire. Almost against my will I kissed him back, arching my body into his even as I struggled to get my wrists free from his grip.

He finally broke the kiss, leaving me gasping for breath. I thought maybe he would let me go then, but instead he ran his lips down the side of my neck, kissing and biting the tender, sensitive skin along my neck and shoulder. I moaned in spite of myself, and he laughed against my skin. When he pressed his body into mine, I could feel his hard cock push into my stomach, and the sensation ripped away any good sense I might have had. I pressed my back against the door and wrapped my legs around his waist, kissing him again. He finally let go of my wrists, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pushed my skirt up over my hips and yanked at my panties, ripping them in the process. Finding me already soaking wet, he slid two fingers inside me and ran his thumb over my clit. In no time at all I felt myself getting close, and I begged him to stop. He did, but only to slide us down to the floor.

We ended on our knees on the floor, with me quickly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them halfway down his legs.

He pushed my knees wider apart and thrust himself inside me all at once. I was so wet, but still very tight, and it hurt, but it was a delicious sort of pain. We fell into a fast, hard rhythm, and I came in less than a minute. The sudden, intense release of tension left me screaming. He held me tight against him, still thrusting inside me but gentler now, as though my orgasm has burned away the last of his anger. He kissed me, and we both sank back so that I was on top, riding him slowly. I could feel his moans against my lips, I could feel him throbbing inside me, and I knew he was close to the edge. I broke the kiss and sat up, then leaned back so that my hands were on the floor behind me. The change in angle and pressure sent him over the top, and he cried out as he came. He grabbed my hips and held me down on him, hard enough that I knew I would wear his bruises for a few days. Every muscle in his body tensed, then relaxed by slow degrees. I stayed there with him inside me for a moment, then rolled off him and led him back to the bedroom. We curled up together and fell asleep.

A short time later, I woke with tears on my face. I lay there, feeling his rhythmic breathing against my back, and I really wanted to stay. I loved him, but we were toxic for one another. He knew it too but would never admit it, so I would have to be the bad guy this time. I got out of bed quietly and dressed, leaving my torn panties on the floor. I never looked back at him, because if I did, I would lose my nerve. Part of me was already screaming to get back in bed, to stay with him. It wasn’t all bad, in fact a lot of our relationship was great. That masochistic little part of me would miss it all, especially the cycle of arguments and angry sex. But I walked out the door all the same. I’m glad he didn’t wake when I left. I refused to let him see me cry.