He saw confusion in her eyes and shock fill her face. She don’t even know, he thought. He often pondered about the motives of women. They had always been superficial creatures. Before he had been trapped in a burning car, years ago, ladies had wanted him for his looks. Afterward, some sought him for his money. Others wanted to be that special one that he claimed. They wanted the power and the glory that came with being his. Dolce had been in the ring, fighting for the spot for a long time; but deep down, he knew she was just more of the same. She wanted the title, nothing more; and if Ethic ever fell off, he knew she would flee. Her attraction was superficial, and suddenly, he wanted to punish her for it. He flipped her around and pulled at her hips, so that she was standing on her tip-toes, and there was a slight arch in her back.

“Take it out on me,” she whispered, in a throaty gasp, as he entered her.

She was there. She wanted to be fucked, so Ethic was going to pour his aggression, his anger, into her. He was strong, wide, and hard, as he dug into her - all raw passion, no finesse. He wasn’t gentle. In fact, he was more than she could handle, his back shots causing her to bite down on her bottom lip. She took it, because she knew he needed it, and it felt so miserably good. The mix of pain and pleasure that caused her to cry out when he hit the deepest parts of her was like nothing she had ever felt.

She tried to run.

“Take it,” he whispered. His voice was almost pleading with her, begging her to take the remorse off his hands, as if he could transfer his fault to her through this act. It was non-transferable. The pain was his to bear. Only he was liable for what had occurred tonight, and he couldn’t fuck his burdens away. He withdrew from her, growling in masculinity, as he spilled his seeds, mixing it in the stream of water and washing his beautiful, black babies down the drain to Dolce’s dismay. She had been trying to get Ethic to slip for years, knowing that he was the type of man that would never walk away from a woman who gave him children. Her attempts at entrapment were to no avail. He was always cautious, even when his mind was somewhere else.

He washed his body and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About whatever happened, about whatever is hurting you,” Dolce said, as she turned off the water.