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I checked my watch. “Almost eleven o’clock.”
She was sex drunk, rumpled and gorgeous. Anyone she talked to would know she’d just been fucked. I moved ahead of her to open the door, then checked my phone as it vibrated in my pocket. A text from Milo.
It’s Sat night. Where the fuck are u?
Busy, I typed.
He sent back a trio of fire emojis.Again?
I muted the conversation and followed Juliet back out into the gallery—not the sex club Milo was texting me from, but the actual art gallery where I’d come to find her. I never imagined when I touched her arm earlier this evening that things would turn out the way they did.
She stopped in the bathroom to clean up, and I thought,my cum is inside her. We fucked bareback.She’d said that she trusted me enough to do that, and I hoped she could be trusted too. I hoped she really had an IUD, or I might be fucked.
My cock wanted to worry about that later. It stirred to life as I imagined my cum escaping her skimpy thong and running down the insides of her thighs to collect in the cuffs of her socks.
By the time she emerged from the bathroom, I’d willed the erection away. No more sex tonight, not until we pinned down what had happened between us, and agreed on whether to move forward in some kind of D/s relationship. It was important to talk things out right at the start. Or the end, whatever she decided.
No drama or misunderstandings. I couldn’t bear to trudge into that territory again, especially with her.
Chapter Ten: Juliet
Idreamed ofthe feel of him against me, his cock shoving inside me. I dreamed of the concrete wall and the strain of my arms bound behind my back, then startled awake in the dark as Fort stretched his long, hard body along my back. This happened several times, and each time it shocked me. Once, when I had trouble settling down again, he took my wrists in his hands and held them against my headboard, and my eyes drifted closed just like that.
We hadn’t talked yet about anything that had gone down between us. We’d showered together when we got to my apartment, quietly and awkwardly, and gone to bed wearing a layer of underwear, presumably to talk in the morning.
But when I woke, harsh daylight wresting my eyes open, he was gone. His side of the bed was made up, down to the pile of ruffled pillows stacked against the headboard where he’d held my wrists.
Had I imagined the whole thing? No. I could still feel him on me, in me. All those things had happened, even if he’d stolen from my bed in the light of day. I still couldn’t process what had happened between us at the gallery, might never be able to process it, so maybe it was for the best that he’d gone.
I got up and stumbled to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Once the water was warm, I washed away the scent of his cologne and the smell of him in my hair. I shaved and slathered on scented lotion after I dried off, and dressed in Sunday morning clothes—faded gym shorts and a natty, secondhand t-shirt with the number 55 silkscreened on the back. I started to dry my hair, then gave up and corralled the mess back out of my eyes with a fuzzy blue headband.
I went down the hall to the kitchen, thinking I’d need to lock my door after Fort’s pre-dawn escape, but he wasn’t gone. He stood by my apartment’s only window, wearing his white shirt and slacks from the night before. He turned when he heard me.
“Oh, hi,” I said. I regretted putting on the weekend hangout clothes as he ran his eyes over my outfit. “I didn’t know you were still here.”
“We were going to talk, weren’t we?”
“Yes. Of course.” I padded into my kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”
“Do you have coffee?”
I sorted through my collection of brew pods. “No. Sorry.”
He smiled, walking over to sit on my couch. “That’s okay. I’ll have some tea. Thank you.”
He was being pretty obvious about keeping his distance, about not touching me. We’d had sex, and it was truly, mind-numbingly incredible, but it seemed more and more like an impetuous, one-time-only encounter. The man on my couch had dragged me into a dark room, bound my hands behind my back, and shoved his huge, hard cock in my vagina until I had the strongest orgasm of my life. That had happened, and now…
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as my brewing machine spit out the first cup of tea.
I turned to look at him. That man had done those things. I didn’t know how to put my thoughts into words.
“What do you like in your tea?” I asked instead.
“I never drink tea. Surprise me.”
I added milk and sugar and carried his cup over on a mismatched saucer. “I can make you some toast if you like…or…” I grimaced. “I mostly eat out. I don’t have very much food.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He took the saucer, holding my gaze. I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t morning-after pleasantry, but it wasn’t an unpleasant expression either. It was something cautious, something in-between.
