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“There are a lot of people around here who hardly ever show their faces,” he says, his eyes pointed directly at the ceiling. “They try to stock up on the good stuff before we have to leave for work. Sometimes we’re gone for weeks.”
The good stuff.
I’ve been dealt many doses of what he considers the good stuff over the last week. The sex has been phenomenal and nonstop.
The affection and care, the two things I would consider the good stuff at this point in my life have been noticeably lacking. He doesn’t kick me out of his bed or even hint that I should leave his room, but he doesn’t touch me unless it leads to sex. We don’t cuddle and watch television like a couple.
We fuck, and we sleep.
I can’t complain about the sex. It’s somehow getting better and better, each time a new revelation about my body and the skills he’s honed to bring me pleasure, but I can tell the difference in how it is now versus how it was then.
He jumps out of bed quickly when I brush my hand over his sternum after we’re done. He shuts down any conversation I try to start about the past. Granted, he silences me with kisses and his mouth all over my body, but it’s becoming glaringly clear that he’s not interested in anything but a physical relationship.
However, tonight is the night. He hasn’t brought up the trip to Hale-ish although it’s been drawing closer all week. After the conversation in the gym, he’s even limited bringing up the plans for tonight, but he’s never come out and said he’s going to cancel them.
Other than a few looks he quickly shuts down, leaving me confused, he hasn’t been emotional about it at all. I haven’t seen much of the jealousy he displayed during my first conversation with Isaac.
Oddly enough, the man joining us tonight seems to be on the same eating schedule as we are. No matter the time of day or night, Isaac is always in the kitchen when we slink out of the room long enough to refuel. I’ve had several conversations with the man, and thankfully, he hasn’t brought up the plans for tonight either.
I guess there’s no sense in discussing it since we all know what’s going to go down at the club in Denver.
Trenton hasn’t stormed out of the room with the stink of jealousy floating behind him. He’s been calm every time, sitting with us and talking. I don’t know what to think of it. I was certain he’d shut the entire thing down, but it’s not looking that way.
Part of me is thrilled about tonight. Any woman would be a fool to look at Isaac and not let her mind go to bedroom deeds. The man is an absolute fox. He’s sweet and flirty, his bright hazel eyes full of life. Even the way his sandy-blond hair looks unruly when he runs his fingers through it is attractive.
The guy is a smoke show. I don’t have to be with him to acknowledge it.
But he isn’t the guy I want.
My body may be a little thrilled about tonight, but I also know that Trenton is my end game. He’s my eternity.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” Trenton says as he climbs off the bed. The bathroom door closing behind him is a statement. One he’s made every single time that I’ve been in his room. He doesn’t want me to join him. We can have sex for hours, days even, but being under a showerhead together is too comfortable, too intimate, and the man wants no part of it.
My hands begin to shake when I think about tonight. Not because I’m scared. I know I’ll never have to do something I’m not comfortable with, but I also know that if he lets me go through with it, it’ll be the end of us.
I clear my throat, making the final decision to take it as far as Trenton allows it. I may leave with a broken heart, but I also know I’ll have a couple of orgasms before it shatters completely.
Maybe it doesn’t have to end with my broken heart.
I know it’s not healthy to believe shit you find online, but I’ve seen many articles on couples that share their beds. Many of them are in happy relationships. They’re able to separate the act of sex from the emotional part of their relationship.
Hell, there are communities of swingers that just enjoy sex, and then they go home and live regular lives. Playing with others doesn’t make them deviants.
But what if he wants it all the time? What if once with me and one of his friends isn’t enough? What if I can’t keep him happy?
The man doesn’t seem exactly happy these days at all, but I know I’m not the kind of person who would want that experience more than once. Hell, I can’t make up my mind completely if I want it tonight.
