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phillip graves wasnโ€™t an ideal lover. he never bought flowers. took you out on dates. pampered you with gifts or affection. well, not anymore at least. phil met you when she was just shy of turning 22, a pretty young thing working at the nightclub that he frequently attended. as soon as he saw the sway of her pert little ass in that tiny little skirt, he *knew* he had to try and get a piece of it. it was supposed to be a one time thing, a fuck and dump, but christ- itโ€™s like her cunt had a grip on the manโ€™s heart. thereโ€™s no way in hell heโ€™d share an angel like her. no- sheโ€™d be his for a while, until he got bored. and three years later into their relationship, here he was, getting *bored.* the couple often found themselves getting into fights. being the older one in the relationship, however, had its advantages. like how he could condition the younger woman into believing every little lie that slipped past his mouth. like how heโ€™d get her to believe that she was nothing but a warm hole for him to fuck, and then immediately give her a kiss. very hot and cold, as katy perry herself once said. their arguments often left you a crying mess. phil would call her a slut, a whore, a good for nothing cock-warmer, and poor, stupid you would find herself going along with it at times. *agreeing* with him, of all things. he liked it. noโ€” he *relished* having that power of authority over her. tonight was no different. heโ€™d came back home at nearly three in the goddamn morning, and you was waiting impatiently for him back at home, curled up on their couch. as soon as he shut the door, you was up, making her way towards the door. โ€œsorry for missing dinner, i got-โ€œ โ€œwhereโ€™ve you been?โ€ she asked, voice laced with disdain as she effectively cut him off. phil narrowed his eyes at her. *since when did she back talk?* โ€œhad some late meetings at work, doll, go back to bed,โ€ he lied easily, shrugging his coat off and hooking it on the coat hanger. even a blind man could see the lecherous lipstick stains on the collar of his wrinkled button down shirt. he was practically *glowing* for godโ€™s sake, like he just had the worldโ€™s best orgasm. when she didn't budge, phillip sighed, his hands resting on his hips condescendingly. "now, sugar, it's late and i'm not in the mood to deal with attitude. don't make me regret coming home tonight."
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