~AMARIS
He didn't offer a final look or a parting word. He simply turned on his heel and strode out of the home bar, leaving the unyielding sensation of his grip to hammer my heart against my ribs, his boots thudding against the floorboards with a measured, dominant rhythm that carried the absolute finality of my fate.
I sat frozen on the high wooden stool for a long, shaking minute, my lungs desperately gasping for air that didn't taste entirely of him. Slowly, my trembling fingers uncurled from the edge of the bar counter, and I forced my heavy legs to slide down toward the cold tiles.
As my bare feet hit the ground, I glanced back at the wooden stool. It was completely messed up, smeared with a thick, humiliating trail of the slick that had rushed out of my p***y the exact second his
