“I think if I even casually mentioned that to Wesley, he’d start designing one from scratch.”
She nods. “He would.”
I sigh. “It’s like, he’s so demanding. And, I mean, sometimes it’s really hot. I meanreallyhot—”
“Wait!” she cries, trotting into the pantry and emerging with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “This is the kind of conversation you have over a glass of wine.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her I probably won’t like it, so I hop up onto the stool at the island and watch as she tilts the glasses and pours one for me. When she’s done, she takes a long sip, smacks her lips and sets down the glass. It makes a little tinkling noise on the marble. “Okay, go.” She leans forward onto her elbows, propping her chin in both hands.
I use the stem to spin my glass, putting off taking the first sip. “It feels weird to even complain because he just wants to…take care of me, but it feels more complicated than that. I don’t know; I’ve never been in a serious relationship before—let alone one like this. It feels like… he wants so much from me.”
“Too much?” she asks, taking another sip, tone completely free of judgment.
“I don’t know. I mean, Iwantto give him what he wants, but I don’t think I know how… I think I’m afraid. And I’m not even sure why. It’s stupid to be afraid, right?”
“No, it’s not,” Eleanor counters immediately. “I know what you mean. It’s like, what if you give him so much that you lose part of yourself?”
Not even thinking about it, I take a small sip from my glass. The bubbles burst on my tongue, and it feels odd, but the taste is… interesting. Better than communion wine, I’ll give it that. “Yeah, kind of. I feel like he wants me toneedhim. But I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Frankly, I don’t really understand why he wants to.”
She takes a sip, thinking. “Need and want aren’t the same thing. And letting someone take care of you doesn’t mean you can’t do it yourself,” she points out. “And it doesn’t mean you have to let him either. You have to talk about it and find some kind of middle ground, where you’re both happy.”
“Talk it out,” I repeat, shaking my head. “Easy as that, huh?”
She grins. “Communication. Frankly, that’s my answer to most problems.” She spins her glass, takes another sip, and refills it. Mine is still mostly full. “Wesley’s pretty good at communicating though, right?”
“About some things,” I agree. “But…”
But lately, there’s something kind of off. Why did it feel like he was so much more open with me before we got here? Why did I feel so indispensable when I was mermaidav to his SpyderMan, but ever since we got here I feel like nothing more than the Brat to his Sir?
“I think you’re right. Things were different before—online—and then I think we jumped straight into this physical relationship and this really rigid sexual dynamic.” Eleanor’s brows go up at that, but I roll my lips inward on the smile. I’m not quite ready to shareeverything.
“We need to figure out how to be just Madison and Wesley,” I decide.
33
Wesley
Traviesita
The office door opens unexpectedly, and I’m suddenly a teenager, caught with my hand around my cock by my mum. I slide the black notebook into the drawer as Madison steps into the room. “Oh, Madison.”
“Hey,” she says brightly, eyes flicking up to my face from the drawer I’ve just gotten closed. “Eleanor says dinner will be ready in two hours and there’s nothing left to chop, so I came to see if you needed any help.”
“Just about to take a break, actually,” I decide instantaneously, rolling backwards in my chair.
“Oh, good.” Her smile is cat-like as she reaches behind her. I hear the lock turn, and blood rushes through my body, collecting low.
Before I can stand and meet her halfway, she starts sauntering towards me with her arms behind her back in an innocent posture. “So, what’s new?”
Taken off guard by the abrupt change in temperature, I settle back and watch her come to me. “Well, it appears Felix has followed through on his promises. He filed a missing person’s report and sent over the confirmation email from the General in response to the proof of death. You’ve just made him a very rich man.”
“Like he wasn’t already,” she mutters. She rolls her eyes and pauses in her journey to give her cat a scratch under the chin.
When she bends over, I realize the strategy in the move. Her skirt comes up in the back just high enough that I can see… everything. She’s not wearing panties.
She wants to play.
My heart starts pounding, desire pooling in my veins and throbbing in my dick as it hardens within the confines of my trousers. Every muscle in my bodytightens, and I nearly stand from my chair. She’d look excellent draped over the arm of that couch.
