Anger Laced Addiction

I'm up against the side of the building and he's pushing my flesh into it and he grunts and I gasp and it's so good, so good.

His hands run down my arms, clasp my hands and I jerk away – emotion is not what I want.

I want – I need – to be fucked. Against a rough brick wall, my skin grazing, bruising and I'm heating up inside.

Fuck me, fuck me, fill me complete me.

I'm so angry, so fucking angry and I pull him closer and I moan.

I moan and I stiffen and he jerks and it's all over and I'm still so angry, I'm not satisfied, I need more, I want more but he's zipping up his trousers, running a hand over his hair, wiping his mouth.

Don't call me tonight, alright, babe? Zoë's coming over. He says it casually, walking away, dismissive flick in his voice and he doesn't glance back and his stance says it all, the casual contempt in his eyes says it all.

Slut. Just another fucking teenage slut.

Jerk! I scream after him, my voice raw, strangled, catching on the last note.

Fuck me, fuck me, fill me complete me.

But I'm still not full, still angry, still empty and I go searching for the next one.