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My eyes finally fall on the last person in the photo: a middle-aged man with a craggy face, reminding me of the man standing next to me.
“Your father?”
“Yeah.”
I turn to him, not knowing if he’ll talk to me or not.
“He…he died of a heart attack.”
He’s already explained the basics to, me but I don’t know much more than that and I don’t feel like interfering in what’s not my business. I turn to the picture again, analyzing his mother’s features. She didn’t look sick then. “And your mother…she…erm…”
“She was fine at the time this picture was taken.”
He sits on the edge of the bed, his jaw clenched. I know he’s trying to hide his emotions, to pretend that everything is fine. But I know that he is enormously affected by his mother’s troubles. And that’s okay. Who wouldn’t feel something in a situation like this?
I expect our conversation to end there, but Tucker continues after resting his elbows on his thighs, his hands pressed together, “But it quickly got out of hand. We’re not sure where it came from. But the night my dad had his heart attack, I wasn’t there, and neither were Abraham and Debbie. Only my mom was there. By the time the emergency services arrived, it was too late. They said that…if they had been called sooner, maybe we could have saved him. But I wasn’t there, and my sister wasn’t there, damn it. Only my mother was in the mansion. My dad was unconscious while she watched TV three feet away. In her own world, in her own fucking bubble, oblivious to the fact that her husband was having a stroke a few feet away. She didn’t even realize it. By the time she realized what was happening, it was too late.”
A lot of questions are running through my head, but I don’t know what to say.
“Why not have her committed? That’s what you’re wondering, right? Well, we did. She went to a center. But she…she was fucking dying there. She wanted her children back. So she came back and got treatment at the mansion. They wouldn’t let her leave. Then…Debbie had her…her accident. And things got even worse. It’s bad, right? But that’s the fucking reality.”
I watch him, trying to read him, which is impossible because he’s completely shutting down his emotions for me now. Anger, on the other hand, is leaking out of him through his clenching fists and the quick breath that comes out of his mouth. I don’t think for a second and approach him while removing my top. He raises his head, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Iris…”
“We’ve talked enough.”
He doesn’t move for a moment as I remove my bra under his intense gaze. A chill runs through my entire body, but I don’t chicken out. The appetite I see in his eyes gives me courage. Not holding back any longer, I push him back on the bed and position myself on him, astride his hips. He lets out a husky sound, takes off his T-shirt, and tries to pull me to him.
“Oh no,” I murmur with a small smile. “Let me do it.”
I grab his hand and place it on the mattress, along his body. His eyes on mine, he seems frustrated but curious. I grab his other hand and place it on the other side, against his chest.
“You leave them there,” I order him.
He smiles, obviously amused by the situation and by my role as dominant.
“I’m going to give you pleasure,” I whisper in his ear as I lean into him. My nipples harden on his skin, making me want to rub myself against him, but I hold back.
“How am I supposed to enjoy myself if I can’t caress you?” he mumbles.
His words hit me, but I try to ignore them and nibble on his lobe just before I run my tongue over it. His hands shake against me, but he doesn’t move. I want to make him forget, at least for a few minutes, all the problems that rot his life. I straighten up, moving away from the warmth of his chest with regret. But I can thus admire it as I wish. The few dark hairs that dot his skin and the line that starts from his navel to disappear under his pants open my appetite a little more.
I tilt my hips slightly, feeling him harden under me. A muffled noise escapes from my mouth.
“Didn’t you think it was little?” Tucker jokes, trying in vain to control himself.
Anything but little, but I hold back from answering him. His ego is big enough as it is. I move my hips again, undulating over him. His lips call to me. Then I don’t resist. I lean toward him and gently lick the edges of his mouth, as if I’m lapping up some delicious liquid.
His right hand twists in my hair to immobilize me. I straighten up, displeased that he moved. However, his head ends up at my chest, and words die at the edge of my lips as his land on my right nipple and suck furiously. I hold my breath, forgetting my comment. A second before, his teeth were around my nipple, but I suddenly find myself pinned to the mattress, him on top of me. It’s no longer time to play or tease.
His eyes are black. He spreads my thighs to make room between them, rubbing himself against me. Only our pants prevent our skins from coming into contact, but that doesn’t stop him. When his mouth presses against mine, a beep sounds through the door. Completely in my bubble, I don’t really pay attention to it.
“Holy shit.”
Tucker jumps to his feet and rushes away from the bed, throwing the door open like a madman, still shirtless. I stare at the ceiling. What the hell just happened? Now that the door is wide open, the sound gets a little louder.
I grab my shirt and rush down the long hallway. Tucker is no longer in my line of sight, but I can hear the beeping still going on, a few rooms down. Only one door is open. I hesitate for a second but eventually move forward to the room. The beeping stops once I get there.
