Why was I snapping at him?
“Yes, Mistress,” Andrew murmured and quickly undid my corset.
I stared at the growing heap of bubbles through watery eyes. I felt an overwhelming amount of hate and disgust. The worst part about it was that I wasn’t sure if I felt those things towards Andrew, or myself.
Andrew loosened my corset and then left the room as I had asked. Even though Andrew had given me an incredible orgasm, I was no longer relaxed. I tried to get my emotions under control while I was in the bath and then got dressed in some leggings and a t-shirt. I still had a few hours before I needed to leave for the appointment, so I decided to go read for a little while. Reading has a calming effect on me, so I thought that would do the trick. I also thought that I needed to be around Andrew, so he didn’t think I hated him. I couldn’t hate that mouth of his, though I felt guilty for loving it.
When I went into the living room, he was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. In his hands, he held that grief book that he had given to Liz to bring to me. I had thumbed through it, but at the time, I was too upset and in denial that I couldn’t stand the idea of grieving. Andrew had handwriting throughout the book in various places. I assumed it had been his handwriting. I don’t even know why I kept the damn book. Maybe I kept it so Liz would see that I was grateful for this little book that our barista sent to me. Seeing the book in Andrew’s hands brought my anger to the surface again.
The only thing that prevented me from wanting to tear that book out of his hands was the sexy sight of him as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the front of the couch. Andrew’s legs were bent at the knees and parted. This gave me a clit throbbing view of the metal cock cage as it rested over his balls. When he saw me, he slowly closed the book and leaned forward to put it back on the lower shelf of the coffee table. I was empowered that my presence instilled a feeling of caution in him.
“Andrew, you can read that if you’d like. It’s your damn book, after all. I’m going to read my novel as well.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” he said and leaned back against the couch and opened the book again.
I put my hand on his head in a gesture to show him that I was trying to make up for yelling at him in the bathroom and telling him to get out of my face. Andrew had hair that could keep my hands busy. It was much softer than Jacob’s had been.
I did it again.
I closed my eyes and pulled my hand away from Andrew’s head as I compared Andrew and Jacob yet again.
“Mistress?”
When I opened my eyes, Andrew had twisted his body around and was looking at me. He had his book open and face down over his knees, and his hand rested on the couch cushion near my hip.
“Is everything okay, Mistress Elise?” he asked.
I didn’t want him to see me upset, nor did I want the conversation to go any deeper. I cleared my throat to ensure my voice wasn’t going to sound funny or give my emotions away.
“Everything is just fine, Andrew. Read your book.” When he turned around, I added, “I’m sure it’s a lovely book.
“Didn’t you read some of it, Mistress Elise?” he asked as turned back around to face me.
“No. I didn’t,” I snapped.
His face fell. It was as though hearing that was more painful to him than anything that I had physically done to him.
“Oh,” he said under his breath.
I wasn’t going to let him make me feel bad for not reading his grief book. Since I knew that he got the book when his mom died, I tried to show a little compassion, though he hadn’t been the only one to lose someone.
“I’m sure you found it helpful when your mom died,” I said and patted his shoulder.
“And my brothers.”
And?
I closed my book that I had been pretending to read and looked into Andrew’s eyes.
“Did you say your brothers died too?”
“Yes, Mistress Elise.”
The first thing that came to mind was possibly a car accident. Suddenly, I was drawn to listen to him.
“What happened? Car accident?”
“My brother Allen died in a car accident ten years ago when we were nineteen.”
