I wasn’t over him, to say the least. I thought he was an asshole and I was totally over the idea of dating him, but I still wanted him. He wasn’t hurting as much as me because of the breakup, and that killed me. It wasn’t fair.

The whole relationship I’d done a lot for him, to make him feel good, to make his life better. And somehow this was easy for him to walk away from, as if he’d meet someone like me again. As if together we were something easy and replaceable.

The worst part was how much I missed him physically. We were exceptionally good in bed together. We never really felt at home at each other’s apartments unless our hands our mouths were on the other person. When we’d text late at night, those little blue dots that told me he was constructing a text were enough turn me on. I knew whatever popped up was going to be dirty and raw, and I couldn’t wait to respond.

I felt good with him, even if our intellectual/emotional connection was lagging noticeably behind. Eventually it wasn’t enough and I had an extremely unsatisfactory breakup with him where I expected to see some amount of fight for what we had, but it was all this kind of cold apathy instead. It solidified that I was making the right decision, but it didn’t make it any less infuriating.

A few weeks afterwards I saw him at a bar in my neighborhood, which was annoying because he didn’t even live in my neighborhood. I still wanted him, but there was another unfamiliar emotion pushing me towards him. I was angry and I wanted him to be hurting too. I threw caution to the wind and asked him to walk back to my apartment with me. He knew I had a booty call situation in mind, so we left together.

He sat on my couch and I straddled him immediately. I didn’t want to pretend this was about anything else.

I pulled my dress down and pulled my breasts out and put my hand on the back of his head and pushed him forward as he started kissing them. It felt good to make him do something, to be in control.

He moved his hand to feel between my legs but I pushed him away. I could use him for my pleasure, but he didn’t really deserve to touch me. He didn’t deserve to feel like he was good at getting me off or like he could make me lose control of myself the way he did sometimes.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his head back so he was looking at me and giving me his complete attention. “I just want to make you hurt” I told him.

I was squeezing his hair tighter than I usually did, past the point of pleasure, but I was on top of him and I was in charge so I could do whatever I wanted. I kissed and bit his neck and tried not to get distracted by the way he smelled. He was moaning softly in my ear and I could feel his erection between my legs. He liked the change in my behavior and I didn’t care. I wasn’t here to please him anymore.

When I kissed him, it was hard and needy. I bit his lips and pulled away when he tried to get closer.

I went down on him because I wanted to drive him crazy. I did the things I knew he loved. I softly sucked on one of his balls and then the other, I licked him from the very bottom of his shaft to the head and flicked my tongue around the ridge there. But I stopped every time I could tell he was getting really into it. I didn’t want him to enjoy it very much, I just wanted him to know he could be enjoying it, if I let him.

I stood up and removed my panties. I looked at him and he was eager.

I straddled him again and worked his cock into me. He tried to kiss me and I pulled his head back by his hair again. I directed him to my chest as I began grinding on him. His cock felt as good inside me as it ever did, but what felt even better was being in control of him.

“You’re such an asshole” I told him as I could feel him getting more into it. I was bouncing on his lap now, his face buried in my tits, kissing me. He was ready to come, and I let him, but I wouldn’t let him look at me the way he liked to. I got up and started running the shower and told him he should be gone when I got out.

Things changed a little after that. He kept texting me to get together again, but I never responded.