My gaze narrows as I watch her.
“Are you having fun with Sir, boy?” she asks.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She kisses the shell of his ear, where she just bit it. “Sirneeds some TLC this weekend, boy.” Her voice drops, husky, like she’s close to coming. “Feel free to take care of him and have fun, okay? Iwantyou to enjoy your time with him.” She smiles at me. “As much as the sadist will let you enjoy it.”
Goddammit, I can’t help it—I smile back. “I promise you, he’s going to have more fun than he can handle.”
She nuzzles his ear. “I know I said we’d spendSunday night together, but I’ll make time for you one night this week, boy,” she says. “Sir needs the time with you.”
I hear the way he softly moans in response. “Thank you, Ma’am.”
“You’re welcome, boy.” Her fingers massage his scalp as she rocks against him, trying to override my rhythm with her body. She goes back to kissing him, her eyes falling closed, and I realize I’m a lot closer tothe edge than I thought I was.
It only takes me a few more hard, deep thrusts to finish, and then I kneel there as Casey quickly comes, and then Declan finally does.
He lays there, his head cradled on her chest and her arms around him. Her feet are still braced against me, though, and my dick’s still in his ass, even though I’m going soft.
Her right toes flex against my thigh, like she’s acknowledgingme. I caress the top of her right foot and give it a gentle squeeze.
Our gazes meet for a moment.
Détente achieved.
Casey nuzzles her face in his hair. “How was that, boy?” she tenderly asks.
He nods. “Wonderful, Ma’am. Thank you.” He definitely sounds like he’s not just in subspace, but frickingouterspace.
He’sgone.
I realize in this moment maybe she truly does love him. That realizationmakes me feel like shit for my earlier thoughts about trying to take him away from her.
What right do I have to do that?
Especially when it sounds like he loves her, too.
I’m the newcomer to this party, even if I’ve known her a lot longer than he has.
I pull out and retreat to the bathroom to clean up and lick my emotional wounds in private for a moment.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Maybeallof this was a mistake.
Maybe me still being alive at all is a mistake.
Once I finish taking care of business, I stand there at the sink that was Ellen’s and brace my hands on the counter, my eyes closed, and try to breathe. Right now, there’s nothing around this sink except a pump bottle of hand soap and a hand towel. My stuff’s all around the other sink, the sink I’ve always used since we boughtthis house twelve years ago and moved in. Ellen picked this sink, leaving me that one by default. The drawers under her sink used to contain all her other stuff, and now only hold a box of tissues, a couple of hand towels and wash cloths, and extra toilet paper.
But in my mind, I can still see all her stuffthereinstead of the bare shelf over the sink that once held her makeup, her lotion, everythingshe used to use.
The empty toothbrush holder. I remember the last one she had was green, and she’d brought it on the trip with us instead of a folding travel one because she preferred hers.
The toothpaste she used, different than the brand I use.
The special hand soap she preferred.
Tweezers, and blending sponges, and—
