When I woke up, my insides were hurting. I had to sit on the bed for several minutes before going to have my bath. He was downstairs making breakfast while I arranged the room and had my bath ensuring I locked the bathroom. Everything that happened shouldn't have happened in the first place.
He just got divorced a few months ago, and now we were there doing things my body wanted so badly. I loved the way he kissed me like he couldn't get enough, like he had never tasted anyone like me. I loved it when he swallowed my screams with his mouth. When I remembered the way his hand moved in and out, my clit started throbbing and I suddenly needed him again.
I hurriedly scrubbed my body and got out of the shower. Then I slipped on the joggers and hoodie he had left neatly folded on the bed and headed downstairs. He had no shirt on as he donned the apron. When I walked in, he was flipping pancakes. Something Robert did regularly but I suddenly found hot.
"Good morning." He smiled when he saw me. "We're having pancakes and scrambled eggs for breakfast. I'd be done in a minute."
It smelt divine. I was expecting the whole place to be up in flames. "I should go home," I said so casually.
"Sure. But you'd leave after breakfast."
I had to be adamant else I was going nowhere "No. Last night was not..."
He interrupted "Can we do this after breakfast, the food will get cold." When I opened my mouth to say something else "Please. I hate my food cold." He begged.
I took a seat at the dining while he finished serving the food. He placed mine in front of me and took a seat at the other end of the dining. Sometimes, it felt as though I was dealing with the most understanding person yet and other times it felt like...like he was out to get me.
I barely touched my food. I just sat there, face down reminded of the excitement I felt last night. I felt him watch me, he wasn't eating much either.
"Out with it." He finally said dropping his fork.
I took a deep breath "Last night was inappropriate. Those things we did were wrong."
He cut me short "But you gave consent, I just want to establish that." He fell back into his chair.
"Yes, I did. I won't say I didn't." I admitted "but then it shouldn't have happened."
He chuckled "Why?"
He just asked why. He just asked that "because it's wrong."
"Amelia, we're adults. Not some kids in high school." He talked as though we didn't just spend the last few hours doing things that only people who loved themselves did.
"Do you love me?" I arched my brows. He became silent. Didn't say a word. "Well, do you?"
"Amelia..." Came his husky voice.
"No, you don't." I continued "Cause if you did, that would be bullshit. You just got a divorce."
The news was everywhere. The dream couple of every high school girl who got divorced. They were seen as the power couple, did interviews and whatnot together, and here he was, sticking his fingers 8 feet inside me a few weeks after the divorce was finalized. He had really long fingers.
If only I had recognized him that night, I would never have let him sit close to me. Never had taken his jacket.
"I just want to go home. I'd wire your money back." And with that, I was up "Don't try to come after me, or show up at my house."
I waited for him to say something. Anything. But no. He just sat there, blank.
"Leave if you choose to. But don't tell me what to do." Came his reply minutes later.
"If you come after me, I'm gonna run. So far that you won't be able to find me." I had overheard his conversation over the phone earlier. He was so scared that I disappeared.
"Wherever you go momma, I'm gonna find you. If I never find you, I choose to ignore you." There was so much pride when he spoke. "you're not very good at hiding. Who taught you? Your mother?"
"Don't dare mention her." Anger surged through my system as I picked up my phone and stormed out. It was still raining heavily outside and all I had was the hood over my head.
But as I stepped out, I couldn't feel the rain because something covered me. "Don't say a word. You annoy me every time you open your mouth."
Jesse held the umbrella over my head while a car drove towards us. "Keep the money. I'd assume I paid someone for the night." He placed the umbrella in my hand. "He'd drop you off at home. Stop halfway and he'd lose his job."
I had no strength left to argue, so I snatched the umbrella and got into the car "Don't get wet." That was the last thing I heard him say before the driver sped off.
When I looked back, he stood there, drenched, hands in his pockets and his hair falling on his face. His muscles popped and flexed. The farther the car went, the more I wished he'd stop the car, and beg me to stay. This wasn't right, but it was somehow perfect.