He came out of the shower and into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. I was busy getting ready, so I didn't see the dark look in his eyes until it was too late.
It was my fault, really, I thought as he pushed me down onto the bed. I was standing there in only my panties. What did I expect?
There was no foreplay. He was angry and focused on fucking me how he wanted. This wasn't for me. He worked above me, barely looking at me, looking into the distance as I struggled to take him in. I put my hands over my face when it got to be too much. There was no asking him to stop, not without making it worse. If he saw me cry, it would only make him more excited.
In time, it was over. I hadn't come and he didn't ask if I had. My orgasm wasn't the goal. He was exorcising his own demons that day and I was just the receptacle.
He was businesslike as we got dressed after. I tried to clean his come off of me discretely, so he wouldn't notice that I was a mess. He wasn't concerned about it anyway.