The Breakup and Some Ex Sex

The Breakup and then some Ex Sex

For the first day after their breakup, Jada couldn't concentrate on anything. She had felt sick when Bruce left her apartment, after he did it. She was glad she didn't raise her voice, she didn't cry in front of him. All she could do was wonder why and hurt. It hurt the pit of her stomach, her head, her jaw, her chest. She had Marcelo run the gallery for the next two days, during which she left her apartment exactly once, still in her pajamas, only to buy shitty bodega food.

Bruce had somehow forgotten about an AIDS benefit Thursday night. He had to attend and attend alone, which got the gossip blogs talking about the fate of Mr. Wayne and his lady love. After all, the press got a few photos of them together and he hadn't been photographed with any other woman. Jada would have liked to refrain from post-breakup googling, but it proved too difficult to resist. She read all the stupid articles hinting that they broke up and all the stupid reasons they speculated could have been the cause.

The next day was Saturday. She came into the gallery dressed to the nines: a black leather midi skirt with fishnet stockings and high heels and a blue-green long sleeved crop top. Her long hair was down, curled into loose ringlets. She had bright red lipstick and cat-eye makeup. This could get her through one day at work, she knew it.

Unfortunately, the outfit wasn't enough to hold her together. When she saw some heiress types whispering together in front of some new arrivals, she was sure that they had heard that Bruce Wayne had broken up with her. Her employees had gathered what had happened and avoided the subject at all costs. Jada thought she was going to make it without crying at work, but when an employee played a new Lenny Kravitz center on the sound system, she discreetly started walking to her office.

"All of my life/ Where have you been/ I wonder if I'll/ ever see you again."

It was sentimental, drippy, but just the thing to set her off. She closed the door. After a good cry, she cleaned up, grabbed her purse, and left without saying a word to anyone. She had stormed down five or six blocks when she decided to go to the nearest bar and get smashed. The closest one was a low budget concept bar with a weird Twin Peaks feel. It had a small stage and dance area.

She drank gin drinks. She hated gin and only drank it when she was miserable. Gin had always felt sad and bitter to her. A band was setting up on the small stage as she finished her second drink. Jada saw a tattooed bass player and his pierced, pink-haired girlfriend. They were trouble and had drugs, Jada could sense it. She walked to their table and acted cute enough that they asked her to sit down. By giving the impression that she was harmless, happily single, and had a secret wild side, she ended up doing lines of speed and bumps of oxycontin in the bathroom. The bassist was named Dave and his girlfriend was named Nikki. They were always named Nikki.

The oxycontin was supposed to just be a painkiller, but Jada thought it had something else in it, too. Maybe a touch of some psychedelic club drug? Or possibly, Dave had forgotten what he had brought. Regardless, the drugs made it easier to absolutely love all of the new friends she met in the next two hours. She felt wild and euphoric. The feelings she wanted to feel would soar on command and the feelings she wanted to ignore were nowhere to be found.

When Dave's band went on, she danced with a few of their scenester Gotham friends. She took off her long-sleeved top, wearing a small black cropped tank top underneath. It was hot and crowded dancing in front of the band. She took a break and sat at the bar for a minute. She was ordering her third?-- no, fourth-- drink when a man behind her paid for it, along with his, a vodka on the rocks. She spun around to see Ayano beside her, looking devastatingly handsome.

She hadn't seen him since they broke up, almost a year ago. He was wearing an expensive looking, well-tailored black jacket that was shiny, with a hood. Beneath, he had a grey T-shirt and black jeans. He had a thin goatee and had grown out his black hair, wearing it tied back. Jada was frozen to the spot. What was she supposed to do?

"Jada, hello. You look beautiful," he said in his thick Eastern European accent. He smiled, almost eating her with his eyes. She looked straight ahead, took the drink the bartender had set down, and told him to get lost: go walk a bear.

"Plimba ursu," she muttered drunkenly. It was the first Romanian expression that came to mind. That's the thing about drugs- they will always bring the wrong information to the table, like an incompetent office temp. A funny Romanian phrase was kind of useful, but she could have benefitted from any one of the several bad memories of him and their time together.

"That's right, you do know Romanian. I had forgotten," he said in a gracious tone. "Ești singură?" He asked if she was here on her own.

"I have some friends waiting," she said, gesturing to the musicians and their friends. Maybe he would go away, she hoped. Maybe he was with someone. If she had been less high, less drunk, or less heartbroken, she almost certainly would have ran in the other direction. Her relationship with Ayano had taken months to end. She had worked so hard to get him out of her life.

Ayano pulled out some large bills and bought a good bottle of vodka. It wasn't the kind of place that did bottle service, but his cash was persuasive. The bartender also handed him a bucket of ice and some clean glasses. He gestured at them, telling Jada to pick them up.

"Let's go," he said in that unbelievably confident way of his.

Jada followed him, but wasn't quite sure why. She was having a good time with the group at the table and she wasn't about to start an argument and cause a scene. And nobody wasn't happy to see a guy with free booze. He introduced himself. Jada sat a few seats away from him, at least having enough sense to not trust that he could keep his hands to himself. Jada's new friends quickly distracted her from the fear that should have been setting in.

The band had finished their set, so a couple of them joined the table. Jada saw Ayano whisper something to the band's lead singer and the two disappeared for a few minutes. Thick as thieves. Ayano, in his typical manipulative fashion, was clever to offer the lead singer some of his cocaine first. Soon, he had the whole table coked up and won over. Jada had some in the bathroom with Ayano and Nikki. She had to. What if she sobered up eventually? Fuck that. Ayano's presence bothered her less and less, especially since he hadn't tried to fuck her and Nikki in the bathroom. That was a good sign, she thought. Maybe everything would be fine, the drugs told her.

Around midnight, Ayano bought some bottles of the nicest champagne this bar had for the table, which was Korbel. Jada was not thinking about how he had ended up in the same bar as her or what he was up to. Nikki asked her to dance and they did so, affectionately, not because they were particularly interested in each other but because it was fun, men were watching, and it made them feel desirable. Ayano made no effort to conceal that he was tracking her closely.

Jada could not hear all of what he had been talking about with the others at the table over the loud music, but whatever they had been chatting about left everyone with the impression that Ayano was awesome. No one to be concerned about. Had Jada been at the bar with coworkers or anyone she had known longer than a few hours, she might have been looked after more carefully. Towards the end of the night, Jada was wasted, leaning on her new best friend Nikki, saying how she ought to go home. Ayano conveniently overheard and offered to give her a ride.

"We're old friends. I'll get her home." he told Nikki. And Nikki knew no better than to let them go.

Ayano had texted his driver, who pulled up to the curb as they walked outside. He had little trouble convincing her that he was just getting her home and walking her to the door. At the bottom of her steps, he offered her some pot. If she were sober, she'd refuse the pot. Every time she got too drunk, she thought it was a good idea to smoke pot and he knew that. Her intoxication also prevented her from stopping to ask how Ayano knew the address of her new place and remembering that she had bought a new place to get away from him.

"Let's go inside. I don't have any rolling papers. It'll just be a minute," he said casually. He helped her up the stairs.

"Just for a minute," she echoed, ascending the steps of the place she had once hoped he would never find out about. She had even bought it under a shell company so he couldn't look up properties owned by Jada Versailles.

Ayano was on his best behavior as they chatted in the living room, being charming and playful with her. From past experience, he knew that she was at the point of intoxication where she would be kind of agreeable. Then, he knew the pot would make her even less adversarial. Defenseless, really. They smoked the joint together on the couch and opened two bottles of beer.

"And how is Bruce doing these days?" he asked casually. He took off his jacket and put an elbow up on the couch, turning to face her.

"He's out," Jada said, slurring her words. "Didn't want to do it anymore. The good ones never want me." She glared at him, but it was more like rolling her eyes. She couldn't quite decide.

"Bruce doesn't know what he's missing. He's an asshole. I bet he plays golf." he scoffed, lighting a cigarette.

"He doesn't play golf," she sneered. She moved closer to him to take a drag of his cigarette.

"Maybe you should switch teams again. You and Nikki could get together. She was fucking hot. She would have fucked you," he said, as if she had set off some kind of tripwire by getting too close to him.

"Oh god," she said, handing him back the cigarette.

"I would have liked to watch her fuck you," he said, testing the water.

"Ayano..." she protested, but she didn't have her wits about her. She didn't know how she was going to get out of this. It was as if she had just tallied up all her bad decisions of the evening and got the check. She was bewildered at the price, but she kind of felt like she had to pay.

"I remember Cyana and Ava fucking you in that hotel room. You remember that, iubita mea?" he rubbed up next to her. He took a slow breath in, aroused by her scent.

"Stop, you're gross," she laughed, thinking she had a chance of deflecting him. She could sense the heat coming from his body, but it gave her goosebumps. Stop, she told herself. She didn't want to react to him. He was so, so bad for her.

"Mmm... you want me to be gentle?" he asked, dubiously. He pressed her into the back of the couch and kissed her, firmly. He wanted to tear into her, he was desperately missing her, but he kept his composure. He could restrain himself to get what he wanted. He ran his fingers through her hair.

"No, Ayano, I can't," she pleaded. She wished so badly that she wasn't so attracted to him, those high cheekbones, the arch of his jet black eyebrows. It was painful to look at his dark eyes, like looking down from the top of a roof. She was afraid she'd fall or even jump, inexplicably.

"You're so beautiful. Let me make you feel better," he purred into her ear, nipping her earlobe and kissing her neck.

"You won't, you can't..." she asserted and turned away from him, but not enough to break away entirely.

"Yes, I can," He pulled her back, gripping her breasts under her shirt. Her nipples were erect, as he suspected. He was so strong. Why was she thinking about that? Stop.

"No! Stop!" she pushed him away. He put out the cigarette he left in the makeshift ashtray and looked at her like a wolf at a deer. He came at her again, enveloping her completely, like darkness. Like he wanted to sink into her very pores.

When she tried to stop him from rubbing the inside of her thigh, he would kiss her breasts. As she tried to keep him away from her chest, his hands wandered up her back, and so on. The constant touching and struggling was turning her on. She felt shaky and breathless. She harshly told herself that she was the kind of woman who liked this, liked him. No decent man would have her.

"Fuck..." she moaned. He gently tugged her hair back, working his tongue into her mouth. "This is the last time." she whispered, knowing he was going to do wicked things to her. This was her escape route, her reprieve from the heartache she had been feeling for the last few days.

"It's never the last time," he breathed. He stood her up like a doll and unzipped her skirt, kissing her as she stepped out of it. He ran his fingers up her shirt, raising her arms to take it off. She had on a peach bra with black lace overlay and bordering, giving it an art deco effect, and a matching thong. She looked at him expectantly, feeling like a younger version of herself. He lifted her up, getting her to wrap her legs around him as he carried her.

"Which way to your bed?" he asked.

"Upstairs," she said quickly, kissing him to distraction so she wouldn't come to her senses.

He dropped her and she fell backwards on to the bed. As he swooped over her, he began to undress himself with vicious intensity. Those silver barbells that pierced his nipples still excited her so much. He cast his boxers aside and let her gaze upon his gorgeous, naked body.

Her head spun a bit and her eyes struggled to focus for a second. She looked up at him, propping herself up on her elbows. It was so easy to be what he wanted, to cast aside the illusion that she might have been a good person. She shut her knees coyly. She gave him an innocent, doe-like gaze, vamping for him. The part of her that wanted to please men like him had taken over.

"I thought you were a good girl now," he said slyly as he slithered towards her on the bed. She inched backwards, now feigning the hesitance she truly felt earlier.

"I am a good girl," she insisted, challenging him to find out otherwise. She pursed her lips, knowing how he liked it. He parted her knees and laid down on top of her.

"Are you lying to me?" he growled fiercely. He reached down and ripped off her panties, both thrilling and frightening her. He pressed his middle finger down between the bare lips of her pussy. It was slick, hot, and engorged by arousal. She whimpered, her body succumbing to his agenda.

"It feels like you want me to fuck you, Jada," he hissed. He pressed on her clit and he rubbed her inner lips. Then, he slid his finger inside her deeply, up to his knuckle. She gasped, clenching down on it. He kissed her repeatedly, nearly suffocating her as she forgot she even needed air. All of a sudden, she had tunnel vision: everything around her faded, went completely out of focus. They were the only two people who existed and she would die if he stopped touching her.

"Do you want me to stop?" he threatened, adding another finger.

"No," she said quickly, pressing her pelvis into his fingers.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"Don't stop," she panted. She raised her hips off the bed, coaxing him to keep going. He pushed in another finger and pulled her nipples out of her bra with his other hand. He pinched and bit them.

"Should I stop?!" he asked, increasing his speed.

"NO!" she gasped, her chest heaving.

"Do you like that?" he hissed, finding her G spot.

"Fuck you!" she moaned. She couldn't believe it-- she came before she could try to restrain herself.

"I didn't say you could cum yet," he said, grinning proudly. She felt his wet fingers grab her thigh. He looked at her like a man dying of thirst. He moved downward and she felt his hot, eager tongue move across her clit. She couldn't bear to look at him.

"Ohmigod... oh fuck..." she whined. She felt so weak; ruled by pleasure and this wicked man between her legs. He stuck his tongue deep inside her and she wailed even louder. He moved his tongue all over her pussy in a mad frenzy. Then he moved it at a tantalizingly slow pace and soon, and he could take no more. God, how he had missed her!

He abruptly came up and shoved his cock inside her, even though he had intended to make her beg for it. He thrust into her rhythmically. The whole time, she kept pace with her hips and clawed at his back with her nails, just how he liked it. She could taste her juices all over his mouth as he kissed her. Her hard nipples rubbed against his chest as they fucked. Ayano didn't want to wear her out yet, so he pulled away.

"Lick your fucking cum off my dick. Now!" he commanded. He stood at the side of the bed. They were both out of breath and sweaty. She obediently knelt in front of him on the rug. He tilted her chin upward to have her look at him. Looking up at him during oral sex would usually remind her of how submissive she was to him. Tonight, she was so lost, so far gone, it didn't matter. She would suck his fucking dick until his eyes rolled back in his head. Hate-fucking her ex was the last thing she thought she'd do, but here she was.

She licked his cock down the center and took it in her mouth. As her lips moved up, she pulled down with her hand firmly gripping his shaft. She cleaned her juices off his balls, never breaking their gaze. She pumped her hand up and down while she played with the head of his cock with her lips and tongue. Then, she deep throated him and moaned in protest to give the illusion that it was so big it wouldn't fit in her mouth. The size of her tits were exaggerated by having been pulled out of her bra, resting on top of the cups and the underwire.

"Fuck," he moaned, nearly cumming. He pulled her off his cock and pushed her back on to the bed. He put a hand on top of her stomach to keep her lying flat and began to fuck her again. His thumb stroked her clit, adding more and more pressure as his dick slid in and out. It felt so intense for her, the penetration and his careful attention to her erogenous parts. On her back, she could forget about who was fucking her and revel in the hedonism. He kept on going and going. Overwhelmed, she tried to take his hand away from her clit. He wouldn't let her.

"Cum for me, Jada," he commanded. He tortured a spot on her hard little clit that was so sensitive, it almost hurt. She grabbed her nipples and clamped down on them with her thumbs and fingers. The release was euphoric. And loud. Before she could recover, he quickly changed their position.

"You wanna show me how much you hate me?" he challenged, lying back and pulling her on top. She looked at him deviously. As she kissed him, she reached down and grabbed his dick, thrilled by how hard he still was and how wet her pussy had gotten for him. Her hand moved easily to jerk him off.

"I know what you want," she teased, handling him roughly. Her hips were hovering above him. Kissing him harshly, she moved the head of his cock up and down her wet pussy lips. He raised his hips eagerly to be inside her again, but she sat up on top of him. She had a Brazilian wax, making her skin impossibly soft. She put his cock down against his stomach and opened her pussy lips to slide up and down it. He let out a low moaning sound, breathing slowly.

"Your dick is so fucking hard..." Jada kept sliding her hips up and down. It was making her clit hard again, which he could feel on his shaft with each movement. She watched him clutch two handfuls of sheets at his sides. He looked up at her, worshipping every sound and every move she made.

"Mmm... that wasn't what you wanted, was it?" she asked coyly. She took off her bra and tossed her long hair back. She let him inside her again and began to ride him savagely. She would slow down just to see him get pissed that she might stop riding him. Then, she couldn't play anymore and she let their bodies move in perfect harmony. Then she leaned forward again to whisper in his ear. "I think you wanna slap my ass til it's red."