They weren't friends, but sometimes, she swears they could have been. They weren't in love, but they were most certainly lovers.
In truth, it was nothing more than a mutual addiction. Him—the pills. Her—the sex.
It was as close as she could get to love with him, and she took it. But the entire time he was fucking her, he was thinking about someone else.
He felt obligated to remind her of this. "I don't love you," he whispered in her ear after an especially angry thrust.
She almost cried, but moaned instead. "I wasn't asking you to."