It was the way he was fucking me. There was something different. It was wrong. He was on top of me, I was under him, and Simon didn't fuck like this. He had both his hands on my wrists, pinning me down. I was coming, but then I saw this look in his eyes, darkness and hatred. I got scared. I tried to get up. He held me down.
"Simon, we're done. I need to go to the bathroom." He laughed and kept fucking me. "Simon come on." He put his hand over my mouth and then let go of one of my wrists. Then he shoved a pillow in my face.
I screamed, my voice muffled. Everything was black, I couldn't see. I struck out with my hips and my legs and somehow I got him off of me and I could see again. He was at the foot of the bed, breathing fast. I had kicked him in the balls. I stared at him and screamed. His face didn't look right, it was all twisted and the color was wrong. It was like he was wearing a mask that got ripped off.
"You're not Simon." I got off the bed slowly. He was watching me; his mouth was pursed into a thin line as he glowered at me. "Who the fuck are you?" His come dripped from my pussy as I found my robe. My nipples were still hard and my pussy was still wet. Was I turned on?
"Come on, bitch, you're not this basic. You know who I am. You've always known."
"Are you the devil?" I looked around the room for a weapon, something I could use to hit him again. My phone was still downstairs.
He laughed. "Only to Simon. Come on. You've always suspected. I know you know."