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I almost choke on the next crumb of bagel. “Dying to know?”
“That’s a common turn of phrase that means I’m curious.”
“I ran through my standard repertoire, and she left satisfied.”
“Define standard repertoire.”
I swallow a few gulps of water. “Cunnilingus, intercourse, but I skipped the spooning. I wasn’t feeling it.”
“Did you get off?”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Just curious. You said you didn’t care much for her.”
“She’s a freak, but she has good tits and a functioning pussy.” More than functioning, actually. The way she’d clenched on my cock made it feel like she’s been working her cunt out with weights. At several points, I thought she’d snap my dick off.
“And she was satisfied?”
“Yes, Drew. She appeared to have an orgasm. I have no way of verifying if she was faking or not.”
He stares hard at me, and I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking, only that I feel guilty.
“What?” I ask.
“How often is this gonna be happening?”
“I told her I’d do it once every two weeks.”
“Hm.”
“What?” I ask, more annoyed this time.
His expression remains bland, as does his voice, but his body language is stiff, his arms crossed, making his shirt have to work overtime to contain his shoulders. “Nothing.” But he’s still staring at me like he doesn’t like what he sees.
Oh my God, it’s disdain. Kind of the way my dad was looking at me at the last brunch we had.
“What am I supposed to do?” I ask, hating this moment with all my might.
He shrugs, dead silent, gaze still assessing.
I hate it so much I want to stamp my foot. Instead, in a fit, I shove the bagel back in the bag, crumple it up, and push it into the too-full trash bin. I’m shaking. I hated fucking Elodie. I hated all the dirty things she said to me. All the bizarro things she wanted me to do to her. The way I had to keep shoving my tongue into her mouth to shut her the fuck up.
I hated the way she liked tasting herself, sucking on my tongue like it was a popsicle, groaning extravagantly and humping up into me. I hated watching her come and the squeaky sounds she made. I hated the way she pawed at me all night for more. I’d pretended to be in a deep sleep, playing dead.
She’d lingered too long into the morning, and I’d finally been coerced into doing her again, but at least that time it wasn’t face to face.
I hate that I feel as forced to fuck her as I’d felt forced to suck Drew’s cock that time. But refusing him would have had no consequences. Who knew two weeks ago, I’d consider Drew safer than Elodie?
Not me.
But I don’t feel like that now. I feel judged and dirty and weak. It hits me hard, the realization that if I didn’t have him, I’d have nothing anymore that was mine.
Not that he’s mine.
I’ve got him on loan at best.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say.
