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“You were too.”
“Babe, I wasn’t. I was trying to fuck you hard and fast against the wall.”
I do a small body shiver, because that does sound really good. Then, I shake myself because I do not have time for that.
“That would still delay us.”
“It’d be a good delay, plus you go off in minutes, so it wouldn’t be a big delay—”
“I don’t,” I lie, and it’s a lie because with Aden in control I could go off immediately.
“Babe,” he growls and I have an urge to stick my tongue out at him, which is ridiculous since I’m getting ready to destroy my life.
That thought sobers me up quick.
“Aden we have to talk—”
“And we will. After. Now go put on the clothes I laid out and let’s get moving.”
“But…wait… you laid out clothes?”
“Hope,” he warns and his growl deepens and I try really hard to keep that body shiver under control—I only partially succeed.
“We can’t go anywhere. Who will watch Jack? The motel?”
“Jack is handled. Daria picked him up five minutes ago. Actually that’s about twenty now since you’ve had me talking for so long.”
“Why is it you talk to my best friend more than I talk to her these days?”
“Babe can you ask me these questions when we’re on the road?”
“But the motel—”
“Is handled.”
“What? How?”
“I had enough money left over to hire a college student to clerk four hours a day. She should be here any minute.”
“But… I mean how do we know she’s safe? We’ve not trained her and how do we—”
“You were busy yesterday, trust me when I tell you I have this handled and how I handled it was seeing to this shit, while you were working.”
“But Aden—”
“And seeing to more stuff after I wore you out from fucking you this morning.”
“But Aden—”
“I can see nothing with you ever goes easy,” he grumbles and then he bends down and pulls on my legs, lifting me over his shoulder in a fireman’s hold.
“What are you doing?” I cry.
“I’m taking you to the bedroom where you are getting dressed and you will be ready to leave in ten minutes.”
“Aden we have to talk,” I cry, nearly desperate now.
“We will after. I promise. You can talk to your heart’s content. But right now you’re getting dressed and we are leaving for my surprise, or else you will have fucked up a lot of effort.”
“But you promise after that we will talk,” I ask him, desperately.
“I promise. Now get busy,” he warns depositing me in the bedroom, kissing me quickly on the lips and then slamming the door as he walks away.
I turn around and look at a white strapless dress that I haven’t worn in years, that is now laid across the bed with a blue bra and panty set placed beside it. I frown. I guess I’m getting dressed… and then after… talking…
It might make me a coward, but again I let him put me off. I won’t allow it to go the rest of the day though.
I can’t hide from this anymore.
forty-eight
aden
“Did you like Crissy?” I ask, Hope—who is way too quiet. I haven’t been—for at least as long as I can remember—a nervous man by nature, but I feel like I’m walking barefoot on hot metal here. This morning I was so sure of her reaction. Now, I’m worrying how this might go. Daria spent an hour trying to talk me out of it, and I don’t know the woman well enough to understand why she doesn’t like me, but I do get that she doesn’t like me. So much so, that I feel like it’s driven a wedge between her and Hope. They barely talk lately.
“She seems nice. I like her tattoos,” Hope answers, staring out the window.
“You like tattoos?” I ask surprised, she hasn’t commented a lot about mine, and she has none on her body. It might be a little stupid, but I kind of like that she doesn’t. I like that the only marks on her creamy, white flesh are that of my bites, my marks and I like that if I spank her, then it’s my hand that is outlined.
“Of course I do,” she murmurs, still not turning around to look at me.
“But you don’t have any ink,” I remind her, more because I just want to get her talking.
“You don’t have to wear ink to admire it, Aden. I like your ink a lot.”
“You do?” I asked a mixture of surprised and pleased.
“Yeah, for a while it’s the only thing I liked about you,” she says with frank honesty.
“Thanks,” I mumble, and I’m not pouting. Grown men do not pout, but that did sting.
“To be fair, you were an ass of epic proportions.”
“I’m finding myself hopeful that you used past tense there.”
“I’m trying to be hopeful too,” she whispers and she sounds sad.
