I groan, and Martin laughs. “Go take your son to baseball.”
“Will do! Have a great weekend!”
The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone screen for a minute. I’d had no idea my family had worried about me back then, in the years after my divorce and my relationship with that woman. I don’t even want to think of her name now after saying it out loud.
Sure, they’d called more often, made excuses to come through town and see me. But I’d thought nothing of it. Because they hadn’t really known the extent of what happened. How much she’d hurt me.
I gaze back at the ceiling, thinking about the woman lying in my bed, and chide myself. I always make the same mistake. I should have sent her away yesterday. And not because I didn’t want to sleep with her. But because I can’t separate the two things - sex and love.
It doesn’t work for me. I can’t be casual. I can’t be short-term. I can’t be someone’s fuck buddy.
And now I’ve just sabotaged myself.
Nice work, Rembrook.
I know I should send her away. It’ll hurt me, but spending the next day and a half with her will make it worse. So much worse.
I cross the hallway into my office, and pick up the soiled sweater I used to clean her up, and her lacy white panties. I stare at that scrap of material, dangling from my finger. I think about how good she felt. How much she trusted me. How eager she was to submit.
And my logic loses out.
Sending her away now will only hurt her, and betray her trust in me. I can’t do that.
No, I have to see this through. I have to be who she wants me to be, who she needs me to be. I promised that to her. And whatever I feel on Monday morning, it’ll be my problem to deal with.
And it won’t be that bad anyhow. A few Hallmark movie marathons and too much whiskey, and I’ll be fine. Love at first sight, or first fuck, that isn’t real.
I’m too old to believe in all of that.
4
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
Amber padsdown the stairs just after 2pm, and my heart takes a leap when she walks into the kitchen. She’s wearing panties, and a tiny white cropped tee, the swell of her breasts just visible beneath the hem. She runs a hand through her tousled hair, and gives me coquettish smile
“Sorry, I kind of passed out,” she says shyly. “You, uh, wore me out a little this morning I guess.”
“I guess so.” I cross the kitchen to take her in my arms, and she gazes up at me with those big brown eyes. “Are you alright? After this morning?”
She nods, biting her lip, and there’s an unwelcome, comforting tug in my chest.
“Good.” I kiss her forehead, and allow my hands to stray just a little, over the curve of her ass. “Can I get you something to eat? You must be hungry?”
“Ooh, yes please. I’m starving.” She perches on one of the stools at the counter, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looks heavenly, as usual, half naked and tanned and delicious.
I stop staring long enough to cross the kitchen to the fridge, pulling it open and regarding its contents. “I can make you an omelette if you like. I have spinach, mushrooms, bacon.”
“Sounds great!”
I get the ingredients out of the fridge and set about cracking eggs into a bowl, chopping up the vegetables, all the while keenly aware of her watching me.
“Were you always into that kind of thing? What did we did this morning?” She asks after a while. “Y’know, BDSM, all that stuff?”
“I, uh, yeah.” I shrug lightly as I keep slicing the mushrooms. “I discovered it back in college. A girlfriend of mine, she was really into spanking and choking and being tied up. She took me to a dungeon she used to go to a lot.”
“A dungeon?” Amber squeaks. “Like, a sex dungeon?”
I chuckle and nod. “Yes, a sex dungeon.”
