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“You feel so good,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. I’m clenching him so tightly I’m surprised he can still move. The sensation of having the beads in my ass while he’s inside of me is not what I thought it’d be. It’s better.
I’m sort of getting off on my bravery. On being adventurous—it’s an ego boost.
And then he’s sliding the beads out, and that’s a whole different sensation. My pulse skyrockets and my head drops—as much as it can with Boyd still fisting a handful of my hair. My orgasm feels like it lasts forever and the insides of my thighs are soaked. Behind me Boyd’s breaths have shallowed and then he jerks inside of me, two, three times before his pelvis comes to a rest flat against my ass. His skin is warm, the light trail of hair that runs from his belly button downward brushing against my bottom.
I feel a kiss press between my shoulder blades and then he pulls out of me and stands. The bed dips when he slides in behind me a minute later. I’m wrecked. Incredibly, gloriously wrecked. I love sex with Boyd. I don’t think about anything else when he’s touching me. My mind doesn’t race with worries. I don’t second-guess something he said an hour ago. I’m like, my best me when we’re together.
“Stay,” he murmurs into my ear, his lips brushing my jaw, his arm wrapping around my stomach.
So I stay. Relaxed, sated, happy.
But four hours later, I’m wide awake, unable to will myself back to sleep.
Boyd isn’t touching me. He’s rolled over, his arm flung across the bed, breathing deep and even. I turn on my side and watch the city over the half walls of the loft. Those floor-to-ceiling windows that Boyd promised offered a great view at night? They do. They also let the light in. You don’t think about the light at two AM when you live on the eighth floor far above street lights. Boyd lives on the third and fourth floors. He has mechanical curtains, but I have no idea how to operate them. Maybe he always sleeps with them open? I don’t think I could get used to that. Wait, I wonder if you can see in these windows? The building across the street isn’t that far away. But I can’t see anything happening over there, so I decide not to think about it.
Besides, there are so many other things to think about. What did he mean by stay? All night? Maybe he just didn’t want to drive me home? Maybe he meant stay as in stay still, because he has a cuddling fetish. Maybe he was going to drive me home after, but he fell asleep.
I don’t have a toothbrush. I don’t have a toothbrush. I don’t have a toothbrush. I. Do. Not. Have. A. Toothbrush. Focus on that, Chloe.
I flex my toes and turn back to look at the ceiling. I just need time to think. No, don’t think. Just breathe.
Did he really want me to stay all night? The thing is, I’m awake now, so maybe I should just go. I should probably go. I spent all day with Boyd and I have lesson plans to work on, plus progress reports are coming up. And I was going to change my sheets. Also I’m having brunch with the girls tomorrow and I’ll need to shower and change clothes.
Boyd has a shower and a dryer full of my clean clothes. But still, maybe I don’t want to wear those clothes. And I don’t have any makeup with me. I can’t show up for brunch fresh from the shower with my hair in an air-dried ponytail. How do women spend the night so casually? Is everyone else carrying their makeup bag with them twenty-four seven, just in case? With a toothbrush? I don’t keep my toothbrush in my makeup bag. Was there a memo about this stuff that I missed somewhere?
I should go.
I slip out of bed and find my clothes on the floor. I don’t need the stuff in the dryer. I can get it… later. The light from the windows is actually kinda helpful, I think as I tiptoe down the stairs.
I leave a note on the kitchen island. Early brunch with girls, took an Uber home. Because I’m not a total nut case. I’m not going to walk home in the middle of the night. But I do wonder what in the hell I’m doing as I close the front door softly behind me.
Twenty-Four
Chloe
“Do you think she’s okay without me?” Sophie taps her fingertips against the cloth-covered table while perched on the end of her seat as if she’s ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. “She’s asleep, and Luke is probably more qualified to take care of her than I am,” she continues. “But I’m her mom. What if she needs me and I’m not there?”
“She’s upstairs, Sophie. You are literally still in the same building,” Everly points out. The four of us—Sophie, Everly, Sandra and myself—are having brunch at the new restaurant in Sophie’s building. It’s changed ownership since the last time we ate here because life is full of changes. Huge, terrifying changes that you can’t seem to control. Changes that might alter the rest of your life.
Or possibly people just didn’t like the menu. I don’t know. On the plus side, the new place serves brunch.
“It’s a really big building, Everly. What if the power goes out and I have to run up thirty-two flights to get to her?”
“Well, Luke would still be with her while you were running up the stairs, so I think it would be okay,” Sandra reassures her. Today’s the first time Sophie’s left the baby since she was born.
“She’s only forty-two days old. Do you think I’m a bad mom for leaving her to have lunch?” Sophie darts glances at the three of us before eyeing the door. “Oh, my God, my phone!” Her eyes widen as she digs her phone out of her purse and then she visibly relaxes as she holds up the screen. “Everly, why are you calling me?”
“To explain how a phone works. Now put it down next to your fork. If Luke needs you, he’ll call.”
“I’m ridiculous, aren’t I?” Her chair scrapes against the floor as she finally scoots it all the way in to the table and relaxes. She shakes her head and exhales. “Okay, I’m fine. I’ve got this.” She glances at her phone and laughs. “She probably won’t even wake up for another hour.”
We all take a collective sigh of relief and open our menus so that when the waitress asks us for the third time if we’re ready to order, we will be.
“So, how are the POD’s?” Everly directs the conversation to me after we’ve ordered and everyone’s been served coffee.
