“She’s here often, Mother.” I didn’t want to be rude, but she should give me a heads-up when she was stopping by. We both probably smelled like sex if you got too close to us.
“Good. I hope that means I’ll be seeing a lot of you, then.” Mother sat down again and picked up her glass.
Monroe sat beside me and helped herself to the glass of wine I’d poured for myself. “So you’re a good bridge player?”
“One of the best,” my mom said proudly. “My sister taught me.”
“I’ve never played.”
“You’re too young to know how to play, but I could always teach you.”
“Sure,” Monroe said.
“You’ve never offered to teach me,” I pointed out.
“Because you only care about poker and cigars,” my mother jabbed. “After I teach Monroe, maybe she can teach you.”
It seemed like my mother had a new favorite.
“You smoke cigars?” Monroe asked me.
“Yes.” I ignored the disapproval in her voice. “Occasionally.”
“Well, occasionally is going to turn into never,” Monroe said.
Mother smiled. “I like her even more now.”
“I should have known the two of you would gang up on me,” I said with a sigh. “It’s ironic because you should be ganging up on Simone.”
“I believe in karma,” Mother said. “Simone will get what’s coming to her.”
“Like how she betrayed me and then got my brother to stab me in the back?” I countered. “How she cheated on me and lied to me, but she’s still getting what she wants? Karma is a bunch of bullshit.”
Mother watched me for a long time, and instead of looking at me with sympathy, she looked at me with disappointment. “I didn’t realize you were so bitter about it. Bitter isn’t good for anyone, son. It’ll sit inside your soul, make its way to your heart, and eventually kill you. Let the past stay in the past.”
People kept telling me that, but they were unsympathetic. “That would be easy to do if I didn’t have to see them together every day, if I didn’t have to watch my own brother betray me. Being bitter is better than being a pussy. I won’t look the other way and pretend it’s water under the bridge, not when I’ve never gotten an apology. I won’t look the other way while my brother makes the biggest mistake of his life. You say I’m the one who needs to let it go—but you’re the one who let go too soon.”
2
Monroe
The bed swallowed my small frame as I sank into the mattress, the weight of this large man pushing me deeper into the sheets. His sweat filled the space between us with more heat, making the temperature increase many degrees so the cool sheets were warm with body heat. I lay there as he overtook me, his narrow hips between my thighs and his powerful arms pinned beneath my legs.
It’d gotten easier take him over the past week, but every single time, it was gentle and slow. He treated me with perfect gentleness, like every time was my first time. My nails slid across the slickness of his back so they could never really pierce the skin. I gave him a few scratches here and there, but nothing that would leave permanent marks.
We didn’t need to use lube anymore, which meant it was getting more comfortable for me to take him.
He kept his eyes locked on me as he watched the emotions dance across my face. He wore that sexy expression, with his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed. He’d shaved that morning, but the shadow was already coming back, giving him that darker look I loved. “I need you to come, sweetheart.”
I already did once, but he wanted me to finish so he could finally let go. I’d been on the verge anyway, so it didn’t take that long. His cock was hitting the magic button deep inside me, igniting my senses and bringing me to life. My fingers latched on to his scalp, and I tightened around him, coating him with my downpour of arousal. My body stiffened before it bucked involuntarily, the bumps rising all over my skin. It felt so good that my thighs squeezed and bruised his hips, and deep moans left my lips.
He watched me for a few seconds before he released, coming inside me with a moan that matched mine, just in deeper shades of masculinity. His heavy come filled me, warm with gravity. His cock always got so big just as he came, thickening noticeably. He gave his final thrust as he finished, his sweaty chest wiping against my tits. He buried his face into my neck as he slowly rocked into me, sliding through our mutual arousal. Heavy and deep, his breathing showed his satisfaction as well as his exhaustion.
I knew he had specific tastes when it came to sex and I didn’t fulfill those fantasies, but I loved sex like this, slow and gentle with our eyes connected. I liked it when he used his cock gently to make me feel good rather than hurt me. Maybe it was boring to him, but it certainly wasn’t boring to me. I liked kissing him, feeling his heartbeat through his powerful muscles. He’d fucked me hard before and I came, but I didn’t feel good all over like I did when we were like this.