AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I—uh—I forgot to brush mine,” I realize. “I should—”
He puts a finger up, going back into the bathroom. I listen to the water run and the distinct sound of spitting. Spitting is not hot, I tell myself. Myself—and my cock—do not seem to believe this.
He comes back out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and gives me a full smile. “I have a new one for you on the counter. Still in the package.”
I give him a wide berth as I head into the bathroom, willing my erection to go away as I vigorously brush my teeth and try very, very hard not to think about things going in and out of any mouths—his or mine. Or think about things going in and out of anything. Or about mouths. I also don’t think about white drops of liquid coming from or going to… anywhere. I most certainly do not think about his cock. Anything about his cock. No cock thoughts. Nope. None at all. But if I were having those thoughts, it’d probably be that he’s most likely big, and thick, and there’s no way he doesn’t know exactly what to do with it.
I nearly choke on my own spit when I look over to find Maison leaning his shoulder against the doorframe of the bathroom. I hurry to spit and rinse my mouth before turning to look at him with burning cheeks. “Um, hi?”
“Hi.” He pushes off the frame, resting his hands on either side of the counter so I’m pinned against it. “Sorry, I just missed you.”
“Good thing we live so close to each other, then.”
“Right?” His smile slips a little, his eyes falling to one of his hands on the counter. “Until you leave. Not sure how I didn’t think about that until just now.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Mais.”
“Not yet.”
“Hey.” I cup the side of his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze until he brings his eyes to mine. He looks upset enough for me to feel an ache in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere. Really. I mean, I’d love to do something with cooking sometime. I was talking about that with everyone tonight after dinner, actually. Maybe culinary school, if we all end up leaving here, but if it’s an option to stay permanently? I’d like that too. I’d stay here and cook for other survivors over the years, you know? I think I’d like that a lot.”
Maison softens at the words, a breath of relief falling from his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I bring my hand up from his neck to his cheek, my thumb gently skating along the stubbled skin. “What about you? What are your plans?”
“Carter. Wherever Carter ends up.” He brings a hand to my cheek, mirroring my own hand’s actions. “Would you maybe… come with me, wherever that is?”
What are we doing? What is this? What are we?
I swallow the questions down, still too afraid. Besides, the answer I give feels like an answer for all of them anyway. “I’ll go wherever you go.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Maison
I have a ton of shit to unpack by the time Dr. Singh drags me into a therapy session. I decide to focus on recent events with Carter instead of myself. It’s safer. I’ve already hurt Carter. Already ruined my relationship with him. Talking about that is easier than talking about all the ways I might do the same with Nolan or—even worse—talking about myself.
“I just can’t believe Carter would want that,” I say after relaying all the details about what happened with that man and everything since then, including Carter and Travis apparently starting a relationship that may involve similar… dynamics. “I mean… Jesus, he’s been hurt and controlled enough, hasn’t he?”
“I think there are very different types of pain and dominance. I also think that whatever Carter wants should be respected, as long as it’s safe. Do you believe he’s safe with Travis?”
I grit my teeth but jerk my head in a nod.
“Then you should support him and be happy for him.” When I say nothing, Dr. Singh raises an eyebrow. “Do you not support him?”
“I do. I guess I just—I don’t know. There’s a hang-up there, like it feels wrong to let it go even though logically I should. It feels like…” I shake my head, fighting the words that suddenly appeared in my head. Words I had no fucking idea even existed but make a hell of a lot of sense.
“Feels like?” he gently prompts.
“It feels like I’m letting it all go. All the trauma. The whole experience. And I—I’m not ready for that.”
Dr. Singh makes one of his hmm noises. “Have you and Carter ever talked about what happened apart from his relationship with Travis?”
“Not really, no. He told me some stuff about losing pieces of himself while he was there, but that was part of a fight. Wasn’t really a discussion.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter. Like his words from that conversation don’t haunt me every fucking day. “He made it clear it was my fault, which I know it was. I told him I’m sorry just before he moved, but… then we dropped it, I guess. We’re sort of in limbo. Like if we don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist.”
“There’s a lot to unpack there.” He sits up, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his nose. “Maison, Carter’s trauma is not your fault.”
“Well—”
