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Just the sound of his voice uttering my name washes away everything I had planned to say. The anger dissipates as I remember every tender moment we shared. It’s a blaring reminder that while he started as a client and seeing him was my job, it quickly became something else. I grew an unhealthy addiction to Clay, putting aside everything in my life to havemoreof him.
“For fuck’s sake, Eden. Say something,” he says, sounding desperate.
“I don’t know what to say.” The words sound pathetic on my lips, but it’s exactly how I feel.
“Fuck.” He groans. “I never should have sent that text. I was having a rough night.”
“You have a girlfriend now, Clay,” I whisper as a reminder in case he forgot.
“Yes, I know, and I’m on my way to her house right now. She won’t answer my calls, and I’m worried sick about her, but for some fucking reason, I’m on the phone withyou.”
My eyes shut with a wince as I rest my forehead against the countertop. Is it because of me that she won’t respond to him? Is she okay? She seemed upset last night when she went running out of the club. Fuck.
When I don’t reply, he speaks again. “You really fucked me up. You know that?”
Still, I say nothing.
“I have a good thing here, Eden. I could move on and be happy, but you won’t let me. It’s like you live in my brain, and I can’t function without you, and I don’t know if it’s because I want you to be my…”
His voice trails off on the word I know he struggles to voice—Madame. Clay was always so resistant to the labels. But he loved everything we did.
“Or?” I say quietly.
“Or if it’s because I just want you.”
Why does this conversation hurt so much? Why does everything with him have to feel so out of my control?
“I think it’s the former,” I reply, trying to maintain some composure. “I think you found security in the Domme/sub practices, and you need—”
“Oh bullshit, Eden!” he barks into the phone. “Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to make everything sound so cold and emotionless? Why can’t you admit that what we had wasn’t just part of your job? What we had was fucking amazing.”
My throat stings as I stare ahead at a spot on the floor, my vision blurring. “It’s not my fault, you know. It’s not my fault I’m still on your mind.”
“Then why can’t I let you go?” he replies bitterly. Those words cut like a knife.
“You should go check on your girlfriend,” I say, shutting down the argument.
“Yeah, I should,” he replies with the sound of surrender in his voice.
When the line is quiet for a while, he adds, “Just say it.”
My brow furrows. “Say what?”
“Tell me to stay gone, Eden. One last command that I promise to obey. I always was good at obeying, wasn’t I?”
The stinging in my throat is excruciating now.
“Please say it, Eden. I’m fucking begging you to. I just need to hear you say it so I can move on.”
When I blink, a tear slips over my cheek, taking me by surprise. I stand up in a rush and wipe it away.
“I have to go,” I mutter. Before I can speak another word, I hit the red button, and the line goes dead.
* * *
“You came back,” I say with appreciation when I open my door to find Clay standing just outside.
He booked his hour with me tonight, so it’s no surprise to see him now, but seeing as how it’s only been three days since that night, I was a little surprised to see the request.
