he’s also making me feel so damn good. As he hits just the right spot, I close my eyes and feel the delicious pressure build.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
I wonder how he keeps doing this to me. As the shuddering sensation overtakes me, consuming me wholly, anguished whimpers escape against his mouth. The soft sounds travelling from the back of my throat do not do justice to the intensity of what I’m experiencing. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or the fact that he hasn’t made me come in so long, but my climax is so intense, it hurts.
His mouth lingers on mine as I’m brought back down from my orgasm, clinging to him. He pulls his mouth from mine and I open my eyes. My heart still pounds like a jack-hammer.
I feel so guilty. I need to ask him to leave. I know I shouldn’t have let things go this far.
I hate myself.
He eyes me with a playful look and I look away, mortified.
It all happened so fast, and I was just so damn horny.
He presses his mouth against my ear and kisses it softly. “You eager little butterfly.” He releases me gently and drops me to the floor with a cheeky smile. “I suspect my work here is done…” he teases. “I must be getting better. I didn’t even need to remove a single stitch of clothing this time.”
I’m crying when I lift my gaze to his. His smile fades swiftly.
“We shouldn’t have done this, Weston.”
“I know,” he concedes. He buries his face in my hair and growls, the sound vibrating against my skull. “God, all I want to do is take you in the back room and lick every inch of you and make love to you. But I know…I know we can’t. I know you can’t do that to Gabe, and I can’t do that to Bridget either.”
That’s what I love about Weston. He understands. He’s probably standing there with the biggest hard-on he’s ever had. But he’s knows what’s best for both of us. He respects me. He respects my wishes.
“If we ever make love again, we need to do it right,” he tells me. “We need to talk things through. We need to officially put an end to our marriages.”
My stomach drops. He can’t be saying this. “What are you taking about, Weston?”
“You and I…we’re inseparable, Mirella,” he tells me with so much conviction, I almost get lost in his words. “We’re soul mates.”
I don’t want to utter these next words, but I need to. “No, we’re not, Weston. It’s infatuation. We are strongly attracted to each other, Weston. That’s all.”
The light in his eyes seems to dim as he takes my hand in his. “There are a million women out there, Mirella… some even more beautiful than you,” he says. “But you are the only one who has fully captured me, who has intoxicated me, whom I can’t stop thinking about, no matter how hard I try.”
“But what about all the work you’ve done, Weston?” I ask, trying to knock some sense into him. “All the advice your therapist has given you? You were doing so well.”
He takes a hold of my other hand, bringing both hands together and holding them tightly between his, not letting go. “This has never happened to me before, Mirella. Don’t you understand? This is a first for me. You are my soul mate.”
I close my eyes. Do I believe in soul mates? I’m not sure anymore. I did. Ever since the day we were first in love, I’ve always thought Gabe and I were true soul mates. But what did I really know? I was a naïve seventeen year old girl in love, on the verge of sexual discovery.
But I do know what I believe in now. I believe in the promise you make to someone, the promise you make to the children you bring to life, and the responsibly you have to them.
I pull myself away from him. I need to be harder on Weston. I really don’t want to be. I don’t want to break his heart, but it’s what needs to be done.
I shake the bag vigorously. The drumsticks bounce around against each other, and are rapidly covered in bread crumbs and Italian spices. I shake the bag harder than I need to, letting out my frustrations and nervous energy. I haven’t been able to breathe properly since what happened…
Hanna came back later in the afternoon, and I was happy to hear her