We don’t move for what feels like forever. My mind is going back through all that’s happened since I woke up. This is nuts, did I really just hit her? When my adrenaline subsides, I remember my own injury and touch my face finding more blood.Now I’m feeling it. Ethan finally turns around and faces me. His expression is hard, but he takes my hand.

“Come here,” he says, pulling me into the kitchen. I’m still too stunned to stop him, so I follow. He swiftly picks me up and sets me on the island. Without looking at me, he grabs a hand-towel from a drawer and turns on the faucet.

I look down to my Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and find it untouched as I wipe the warm liquid from my neck. I got lucky there . Ethan takes my hand and starts wiping the deep red away from my fingers. I watch his face while he works, still angry it seems, but his touch is affectionate. My eyes trail across his naked chest and I shut my eyes. Now is not the fucking time. I hear him go back to the sink, messing around with cupboards and cups as the water runs.

“Here,” he says, and I open my eyes. I take the Tylenol from his hand and the glass of water, swallowing it down without question. When I set my cup down he starts wiping my face.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask him quietly. He stops the hot rag and looks at me.

“Are you kidding?” he asks, and starts wiping again. I shrug, and he sets the rag down. “Chanel, don’t fucking ask me shit like that. You know I care about you.” We stare at each other for a moment.

“More than Nicole?” I ask cautiously with a grave expression. I know I wasn’t hallucinating when he let her leave bleeding. He takes a deep breath and looks away from my face picking up the rag again.

“I’m not gonna hold her here and wipe her face when this was her fucking fault in the first place,” he says, and my eyes find his chest again. Though he’s cleaning my wounded face, and with everything that’s happened, there’s still room in me to want him apparently. I sigh feeling angry and look at the ceiling.

“Was it?” I ask, unable to hold the words back. Whose fault was this, really? He stops again. As I glare at the cupboards past his head, he gently takes my chin between his fingers.

“Yes, it was. You said she hit you first.”

“She did,” I reply.

“Then good,” he snaps back. “You and I weren’t doing anything wrong Chanel. She got fucking jealous seeing you in bed with me, but her and I aren’t together, as you’ve known. As it’s been made pretty fucking clear now.”

I bite my lip watching his intensity. He’s staring at me, searching my eyes for something. Probably pondering my expression as well. After a minute his face softens slightly and he picks up the now cold rag and wipes my neck. We don’t speak again as he works. He meets a tough spot scrubbing slightly harder and leans in closer. His dark head of hair is in front of my face, smelling delicious, and I’m battling with the rising emotions inside me.

I almost feel nauseous. I feel angry with myself. For what? I don’t know. I think I feel angry with Ethan, too, and with Nicole, all for different reasons. The solidity of my conclusion is weak though, and I realize I’m more confused now than I have ever been through this whole affair. Above all, I feel a longing I’ve become familiar with as Ethan stands shirtless in front of me. That makes me angrier than anything.

Without thinking, I reach out and shove him on his chest with both hands, like I did with Nicole. He jerks back slightly but holds his ground. Ethan stares down at me angrily, and I almost cower, but continue glaring back at him. I am upset with him. I can’t sort out all my reasons at the moment, but it’s there.

He slowly tilts his head and leans in, his face half an inch from mine, and stares down his nose at me. He doesn’t speak, but his presence is screaming tension the way his hands are planted firmly on the counter at my sides. I’ve made him mad, but I don’t care, I want it. I want him to do something, say something, but he just stares at me, probably reigning in his anger.

He’s so beautiful and angry, and I don’t know what comes over me. I’m filled to the brim with anger, need and confusion. My eyes flash to his chest and back to his eyes. Then I slap him, hard, across the face. I glare at him as his head slowly turns back to me. His shocked, glorious green eyes find mine and a moment of silence passes.

Suddenly he’s kissing me furiously. His large hands are holding my face so tightly to his, my cheek throbs in protest. I inhale deeply through my nose and grab his biceps. After a moment of some inner battle of good and evil inside myself, my mouth opens to take him in without my command. His tongue greedily comes out and into my mouth to massage against my own.

“Stop,” I say against his lips, but don’t stop kissing him back, myself. He doesn’t stop. “Ethan,” I say between kisses.

“I can’t,” he says into my mouth angrily, and kisses me harder, still holding my face steady. My eyebrows pull together and I whimper. His hot skin beneath my fingers, his grip on me, his words. It’s all pulling me in.

“God damn it,” I groan, and wrap my arms around him. Our intensity increases, and my face hurts, but I couldn’t give a shit right now. I want to feel it, to feel him. My nails scratch his back as his fingers find the button on my jeans, and suddenly we’re really doing this, right now. We’re both obviously angry, the way we’re clawing at each other. I’m pushing and pulling at him, but we both want this. His hands have rid me of bottoms completely and he sits my naked ass on the edge of the counter as he starts undoing his belt.

As I’m holding his face, his lips locked with mine, his head finds my entrance and he’s swiftly inside me, stretching me fast. He’s hard as a rock and mean as hell as another harsh pressure claims a part of my body. I scream in pain and gasp in pleasure. My hands fly to the counter to hold myself up at the angle he has me tilted.

I glare at him from under my lashes, breathing through my open mouth. Already panting heavily, his eyes are merciless as they gaze at me, my body adjusting around him. I hate the expression on his face, and I reach to strike him again, but his hand quickly catches my wrist before I make contact with his cheek.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. Then he grips my hips and slams into me.

“Unngh!” I cry out at the pressure, and lean back. “More,” I beg, focusing on one desire at a time. My back is lying flat on the counter, and he does give me more, all of him. He fucks me relentlessly, the type of pounding that makes my insides hurt from his size. But I want more, so I say so.

"Harder Ethan!" I pant, and he does. My back arches high off the marble before coming back down to brace myself for him. His right hand reaches out and wraps loosely around my neck from the front. He's not actually choking me, but I'm too fucked up in the head to care. In fact, I like it, and my hands find his forearm and hold it tightly. His left arm is under my thigh holding my waist while his right hand holds me in place at the base of my neck.

I'm gasping and moaning and I can't get enough. I still feel angry, but his penetration is sating me in a way I didn't think possible. My knuckles burn from where I hit Nicole. My face stings from the blood flow, and I'm upset with Ethan. Part of me feels like this is all his fault. Deep down I know that's not really true, but my irrational side is coming out and I don't care. My nails dig into his skin causing his fingers to tighten around my neck. I love it, the pain mixed with the pleasure is intoxicating.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp out, but I still want more. I push up off the counter with my elbows as his pace continues, torturing and pleasing me simultaneously. When I’m almost sitting up, I reach up and grab a fist full of his hair and pull. He groans and yanks me against him, his arms wrapping around me. Suddenly I'm in his arms as he fucks me standing up. My limbs are wrapped around him as he holds my body weight completely. I'm bouncing up and down against him, his dick filling me over and over and I scream with pleasure.

"Fuck!" I yell, and pull his hair harder. Then I feel his teeth on my shoulder and I gasp in pain. He bites me, his perfect white teeth digging into my skin, and I claw his back ruthlessly. He moans loudly against my hot flesh.

"Damn it!" I scream, and move my hips harder. I'm grinding against him as hard as I can, and the pain inside me, and on my face and shoulder and knuckles. All of it makes me animalistic with need.

"Fuck me harder Ethan," I egg him on through my teeth. With lithe quickness, he drops to his knees and slides me off of him. He roughly turns me around and faces me toward the cabinets on the island. With both of us on our knees, he's quickly inside me again, taking me from behind.

Ethan grabs a handful of my hair and wraps it around his wrist as he grips tightly. He pulls back on my scalp and I moan incoherently. This angle is even better and I want to explode from the tight position he has me in. My hands are against the dark wood as he repeatedly pushes in and out of me. I push back against him hard, challenging him. He forces my body harder against the island and grunts.

"Fuck Chanel," he pants and I moan.

"Say my name again," I beg him.

"Chanel," he whispers in my ear and I gasp.

"Again-"

"Chanel," he growls, forcing himself deeper inside me. I manage to reach up with my right hand and find his hair again. I grab a tight handful but don't pull, just hold him against me.

"Tell me I’m your slut," I moan. The conservative side of me is gone and all that’s left is my singing body needing to hear these words. He doesn't stop, doesn't change pace, just puts his lips to my ear and tugs my hair harder.

"You’re my slut, Chanel," Ethan growls through his teeth and my stomach flips. Hearing it from his mouth is that much crazier, and that much hotter, and I feel myself building.

“You’re mine,” he whispers harshly, tugging on my hair, but I’m not done.

"God you're an ass hole," I say against the cabinets. He stops and pulls me away from the island and turns me, pushing my head toward the floor so I’m now on my elbows and knees. His dick still inside me, he delivers a stinging slap to my ass. I cringe but can’t pull away from him.

"Say that again," he orders angrily.

"You're an ass hole," I growl. This must be like some game for us. This isn’t the first time I’ve called him this, and this isn’t the first time he’s spanked me for it. He spanks me, pulls out and pounds into me. Then he spanks me again. I scream loudly, but I want this. All of this; it's so fucking hot. I feel like it's what I need and I'm so fucking close when he pulls out and slams into me again.

Ethan holds my ass in front of his pelvis, fucking me at his will, and I want nothing more in this moment. His body overtaking me, his dick burying itself deep inside me. I feel myself climbing and I moan loudly.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry and push myself up on my hands. He grabs my hair again and pulls it tight, banging himself against me.

"Ethaaaaaan," I moan strained.

"Cum Chanel," he growls and on command, I do. Oh Lord, I do. I'm screaming obscenities incoherently as he slaps my ass and fucks me more. My entire body is on fire as I push against him on my hands and knees. I scream his name and I feel him still. Then he cums deep inside me, furiously, intimately, completely. I am his. In this fucked up moment I want to be. As my orgasm strings along, I know that was exactly what I wanted.

We come back down to Earth catching our breath, and I crawl away from him and sit on the hardwood floor, leaning back against the cupboards. I close my eyes panting hard. When I finally catch my breath, I look to my right and see Ethan sitting across from me. His dick is put away, but his jeans are still undone. He’s tugging on his hair with one hand as he looks up to meet my gaze.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful, but his face is pained, and I sigh heavily. I shut my eyes and shake my head. Now that my anger is dissipated, I really do feel nauseous. What just happened? I’ve never been so angry with him before, or him with me I’m sure. And though in the moment I wanted him badly, I feel guiltily uneasy now. My palm is still stinging from where I slapped him. I need to leave. Without another word I stand up, my legs the consistency of jelly, and find my pants.

Our eyes are locked as I pull up my black panties and jeans. He looks like he wants to say something, but says nothing. I feel even more sick as I slip on my Pumas. I see him stand as I walk out of the kitchen and notice red on his back. Many deep, dark, parallel lines taint his skin, and I snap my face forward, biting my lip hard. I scratched him to shit.

I see my key ring on the floor by the door where I must have dropped them before I was assaulted. I snag them and hear Ethan behind me.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.” I glance over my shoulder at him shamefully.

“Why do you feel like you need to run away?” he asks bluntly, and he looks nervous.

With my hand on the doorknob, my shoulders slump a little. Truth be told, I'm scare of what we just did to each other. I don’t know what to say. I need to process the many decisions I’ve made at such an early hour already, and it was a mistake to fuck him like that. So I simply reply, “I need to go.” I take a last glance at his face and turn the knob swinging the door open. Leaving Ethan standing in the living room, I shut the door and head to my car.