First, I need to not be here when he awakes.
I’m spiraling.Get a grip, Vicky. You’re stronger than this.
Am I, though?
I wasn’t strong enough to resist coming around his cock.
Okay, maybe I didn’t actually try that hard by that point.
God. Did he rape me, or did I agree? Thinking back, right now, I have no clue. I said ‘no’—that much I’m certain of. He heard yes—also pretty damn clear.
I sit on the edge of his bed and mouth the word ‘No.’Lips moving correctly. No sound comes out, as he’s asleep beside me and I really want him to stay that way, so I can’t be certain. But I’m pretty damn sure it was no.
I’ll ask Carol when I get back home.
But then I begged him to fuck me. I distinctly rememberthat, too. Not just once, but twice.
Shit. No.Threetimes.
Oh my God, I need to get out of here.
Wearing what, precisely?
My dress is torn on the floor. My thong is God-knows-where. I have a pair of shoes. Bit cold to go out wearing nothing but shoes, though it would make getting a cab easy.
I ease off the bed. The curtains aren’t drawn, and there’s plenty of light from the city below. More than enough to tiptoe around, collecting my shoes.
There must be clothes somewhere. He has a walk-in wardrobe, but I don’t want to wear his. And the door might wake him.
His tux jacket. That’s something. Buttoned up, it’ll be long enough to cover me. Length, at least, even though it’ll look like…
…I’m naked beneath my ex-fiancé’s too-big jacket, having just been royally fucked.
How did my world get so damn surreal?
I slip it on anyway, shoes in my hand, and go for the door. A step at a time, heel-toe, rolling through it, silent. Hand on the handle. Turn, wince, pull.
There are lights on in the apartment, and even though they’re turned low, it floods in. Shit. Slip through, pull the door. Close it, or leave it ajar?
My heart’s racing.
I leave it a half-inch open rather than risk making another noise.
Maybe there’s something to wear in this apartment. There are other rooms. Another bedroom, if I recall. A guest room? With clothes?
Worth a try.
Even one of his T-shirts would be an improvement.
I pad through, finding the room I think it is. The door’s already open, and a little push is silent. It’s the right room. A bed, an en suite, clothing on a chair. It’s been used. It smells of…a woman.
And I immediately know which one.
She’s been here.Inhere. Recently.
But… inhere. She’s been sleeping inhere. Not inthere.
I don’t understand. Why does she have her own room? Does she fuck him then come back in here? Who would do that?
