very quiet getting out of bed.
I gave her a few minutes to see what she would do, peeking in the doorway to the living room as she got lost in her words. Watching as she sat cross-legged on the sofa, leaning over her notepad and scribbling like mad. It wasn’t until she started to cry that I came into the room. I thought she needed me; I thought it was about him.
But she said they were happy tears, like the kind you cry when you’ve gotten closure. I don’t know why that hurts me more.
“No problem, I wanted to get out anyway.”
“Did you go for a run?” she asks me, eating the last of the ice cream and facing me. I shake my head no. I don’t have time for that right now. Usually she’s in bed when I run early in the morning and then shower before she’s gotten up. It’s been a week of her staying at my place and that being the routine.
“My fault?” she asks and scrunches her nose, not liking that she’s thrown off my schedule.
“It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. It truly doesn’t. “I’ll make it up later tonight.”
She hums a small sound and then adjusts on the sofa. “Will you come by my place tonight? Instead of here?”
I answer easily, not thinking twice, “Of course. I may be late; I have a lot of things to wrap up at the office.”
She straddles me then, a leg on either side of my hips until she settles into my lap. I let my hands rest on her ass as she drops the empty bowl and spoon beside us on the sofa, the spoon clinking as she shoves them farther away.
“Mr. Thatcher,” she says as she wraps her arms around my neck and squares her shoulders. “You’re going to be late. I need you to stay at the office … and help me …” Her long lashes flutter as she bites down on her lip and continues, “… to file the paperwork.”
An asymmetric grin finds its way to my lips as she laughs at her own attempt to be a sultry secretary. I can tell she’s holding it in, not taking it too seriously at all. Her straddling me though, that has nothing to do with role play.
Glancing at the clock behind her, I note that I have another hour at least before I need to get going. “I think you may be mistaken, sweetheart,” I tell her.
She rocks herself against me and gives me a smoldering look. It’s one I don’t get often, one full of confidence and determination. But damn, when she does give it to me, it drives me wild. If anything, this woman knows what she wants and with the tension gone between us, she wants me.
“You need your exercise, Mr. Thatcher.” She drops her voice low and slides the straps to her silk nightgown off her creamy shoulders, exposing her breasts. They’re small but fit perfectly in my hand.
With a groan and another rock of her hips, my dick stirs in my pants and I sit back on the sofa, thrusting my hips once and making her gasp as she reaches out to steady herself by clinging to me.
My hands wrap around her small waist as she kisses my jaw. I don’t know when it happened, but my control has waned with Jules. I love it.
This is such a fucking mess. A beautiful mess.
Julia
Happy is relative.
An emotion in time.
Guilt waits in shadows,
Makes you pay for your crime.
When push comes to shove,
And the two have to meet.
You’ll be judged, never loved.
It’s all bittersweet.
I breathe in the steam of the hot coffee in my hands. It’s the most amazing smell this early in the morning. That or Mason’s pillow. I don’t know what it is about the masculine way he smells that drives me crazy. Each morning I pull his pillow out from under him and take it as his alarm goes off.
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face remembering this morning how he flipped me over and “punished” me for it. Maybe things are moving along too fast, but for the first time in a long time, I’m happy. Genuinely happy.
“Stop smiling like that,” Maddie playfully scolds from across the table as she blows on her latte. She lifts the cup to her lips and eyes me before taking a sip. The smile doesn’t fade; her next comment only makes it grow larger. “You’re making me jealous.”
“That is the