He has to be. I still remember the way he looked when he brought me home… so broken. Destroyed. Sad. Ruined. He looked exactly how I felt, and at the time, I wanted him to hurt too. I wanted him to understand what I was feeling, and I needed him to understand that it was his fault.
But what if he left and something happened to him?
No, no. I’m not going to do that. Jaxon is fine, and he’s just being a dick. He could reach out if he wanted to, but he hasn’t. Meaning he didn’t want to.
After submitting my post, I browse the site to learn as much as I can.
I’ve looked at a lot of this stuff over the years, mostly recently, especially while I was with Jaxon, but reading it now solidifies that this lifestyle isn’t wrong. That what I’m doing isn’t wrong, and as long as I’m safe and respectful, I can do this happily and without issue. There are thousands of people who do it, and many of them have to keep it a secret.
The front door opens and closes again, and I look up at my door, holding my breath as I wait for it to open… or for the knock to come. Muffled footsteps sound from the living room, and I hope like hell he doesn’t come in here. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s been a couple hours since he left. I wonder where he went, but I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business and I have no right to ask, only I’m worried about him, and I wish we could talk like normal friends.
The familiar sound of the bathroom door shutting and the vent going on has me letting out a breath. His bedtime routine. Maybe he’s going to sleep, and he won’t bother me.
I get back to what I’m doing on my computer, losing myself in stories and questions and answers. Before I know it, I’ve gone back years and am still fascinated by how open people are and how much better I feel. I get a few responses on my post that tell me our “kink relationship” seemed healthy since we were both consenting, but the other parts of our relationship may need work. Someone says, “You can’t encompass it all into one. You have to break down the different parts and see where it’s broken. That’s how you’ll fix it. Use what you were good at to fix the parts that need fixing.”
I stare at the responses but keep going back to that one, to those few sentences. It makes so much sense. I need to stop putting all of this together and look at these things separately. I’m so engrossed that I hear nothing until there is a soft knock on my door.
“Sailor, are you sleeping?”
I consider ignoring him, but I think he may come in, anyway. My gaze locks onto the door, my heart pounding a little harder. He crossed a line by kissing me earlier, and part of me is worried he may try to do more… but would he knock for that? I don’t want to be scared of Sam—Hell, I don’t want to be scared of any man.
“I’m trying to,” I answer.
“Can we talk?”
I sigh. “I really don’t want to talk right now, Sam. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” is all he says. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Please don’t be mad at me.”
I desperately don’t want to be mad at him. I want a normal relationship with Sam. A normalfriendlyrelationship. Why can’t we have that like we did before? Years before we dated? We had that once, and I don’t understand why we can’t have it again.
It’s not like we were with each other to kiss or hug or have sex. Sure, we shared videos and had phone sex, so that is a little more, but it’s not like we were living with each other then.
Going back to that sort of friendship with him, minus the sexual stuff? That’s what I want with Sam. I just want my friend back.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I call out, hoping he’ll listen and go to bed.
I could talk to him right now, but I don’t want to. I need a break. I need some time to think. And I think he does too.
As I hear him walk away, I don’t feel any better. For some reason, this whole thing just irritates me even more, and this strange whirlwind of emotions rises up and settles in my chest heavily. It could be what happened with Sam on top of reading all this stuff that has me in a weird mood, but I pick up my phone and send a text to Shadow before I run out there and take this out on Sam.
Things with Sam aren’t going to work out.
I can’t go back to Jaxon.
So the only thing to do now is move on…
Golden_Phoenix: When can you be here?
Chapter Fourteen
Jaxon
I’m a mess of emotions. Something I don’t deal with well.
He kissed her.
Sam fucking kissed her, and I want to ring his goddamn neck for this. I want to gut him, then strangle him with his intestines. I want to chop his dick off and make him choke on it while he bleeds out. I could saw his fucking head off right now, and not bat an eye about it.
