Chapter 7
LINCOLN
Naked and boneless would have been an understatement.
Every nerve in my skin was over-sensitive, my bones…
gelatin. The only reason my body remained upright was the steadiness of Ethan’s body behind mine.
Even when he reached down between us and stroked himself off, coming against the small of my back with almost no commotion.
After he spent, he eased me down onto my side.
The bed was so close but also terribly far away, and I had no qualms with the floor.
I could curl in on myself just as easily there as I could a bed.
Getting up from the floor and leaving would be much easier than getting up from the bed, so the placement felt a lot like courtesy.
Ethan sat down beside me on the floor, gently stroking his fingers across my bare skin, down the length of my back until he reached my ass before tracing his way back up into my hairline. I shivered, squeezing my eyes closed before rolling onto my stomach.
Before rolling away from him.
“How much time do I have left?” I murmured, scrubbing a hand down my face and forcing my eyes open. Ethan had a paneled ceiling, and not the paneled ceiling I grew up with. The fancy kind made out of beveled wood and intricate angle cuts.
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “Do you want a shower before you go?”
“That feels a little too…” I trailed off and frowned, rolling onto all fours, ready to push to my feet so I could find my clothes.
“I can’t let you leave like this,” he said, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. His hands were so warm, so steady. “So you can either lie here on the floor longer, or you can take a shower.”
Whatever had just happened between us might have been a paid encounter, but he was following the rules of the game, and I appreciated that. I’d have to dig out some more cash to tip him or something. Were you supposed to tip escorts? I wasn’t familiar with the protocol.
“If I get in the shower, I’ll cry again,” I admitted.
There was no harm in being honest, considering my eyes were probably swollen shut from the crying I’d already done, and there was no way in hell I was ever going to see this man again.
“There’s no harm in it,” he said, which only made me want to cry before I even got into the bathroom. “Do you want to talk about anything that just happened?”
“I don’t think I can afford the therapy add-on.”
Ethan chuckled and smiled, a dimple appearing in his right cheek. “Consider it a freebie then.”
He stood first and held out his hand to me, which I took. Ethan helped me to my feet, and I was pleased to find standing wasn’t as insurmountable as I’d feared. My knees were definitely worse for wear, the pile of the carpet worn deep into my skin on account of the kneeling.
Fuck.
I’d gotten onto my knees for another man. I’d submitted to another man.
And I’d done it seriously, not in the teasing back and forth kind of way the first Ethan had played at it.
And I’d liked it. I’d really fucking liked it.
“Come on,” New Ethan said, leading me out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.
Even the guest bathroom had the same vibe as the rest of his apartment, dark jewel tones, golden light, and comfort. Fuck, his apartment was comfortable.
“How do you like the water?” he asked.
“Hot,” I said, clearing my throat. “Sir.”
He paused, halfway to the taps.
“You don’t have to call me Sir anymore.”
“What if I’m trying to get used to the feel of it?” I asked.
Ethan turned on the water, waved his hand under the spray to check the temperature, then moved out of the way so I could climb in.
“Do you plan on calling someone else Sir?” he asked quietly.
I pulled the curtain closed halfway, and Ethan sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, his sticky cock now soft against the top of his thigh. He rested his elbows against the back of the toilet tank, leaning toward the wall so he could still see me in the shower.
“I don’t know,” I said, grabbing what looked like a clean washcloth off a small rack by the soap. “Can I use this?”
“It’s clean.”
Off the bat, he hadn’t struck me as the kind of man who had clean towels at all times in a guest bathroom, but if he hosted often, it made sense for him to be prepared.
I wasn’t sure how that made me feel, so I did what I did best and ignored the feeling.
Instead, I squirted some body wash onto the cloth and lathered it in my hands.
“I’ve made some assumptions tonight based on your cagey answers that you prefer to be dominant in the bedroom,” he said.
I washed my armpits, then reached back to clean the place on my back where he’d painted my skin with hot stripes of his own cum.
“And out of it.”
Ethan made a thoughtful—if disbelieving—noise.
“That’s why I wanted to try this,” I told him. “I hooked up with a guy a few weeks ago, and he…I don’t know. He was playful about it, but the whole time we hooked up it felt like the tables kept turning.”
“And you didn’t like that?”
“I did like it,” I said. “That’s the problem.”
I lowered the soapy cloth to my cock and balls, washing them gingerly as to not accidentally turn myself on again.
Not that I could come again if I wanted to.
Ethan had wrung three orgasms out of me, and the last one was barely anything but air.
If I came again, it would be nothing more than thoughts and prayers between me and God.
Ethan frowned at me, his hair falling over his face when he cocked his head to the side.
“Why does that stress you out so much? Can’t it just be fun?”
I thought about Silas and Marshall. I wondered if Silas found the things they did fun or if he found them necessary.
Ethan posed a fair point, though. I’d been single for so long, was it really that important to me?
I’d clearly lived just fine for all the weeks at a time I went without it.
Why did I make such a big deal of it when I did finally get it?
“I don’t know,” I answered, rinsing out the washcloth and returning it to the hook. “Maybe.”
I turned and tipped my head back under the water, slicking my hair away from my face and letting the spray wash over me. The soap raced down my body, and I did a turn under the water to make sure I was fully clean.
“I had fun tonight,” Ethan offered.
I swallowed hard, impressed I’d made it through the shower without crying again while knowing if he’d left me alone, I would have. Fucking subtle-ass, aftercaring motherfucker.
“I had fun too.”
I turned off the water and shoved the curtain all the way open.
Ethan stood up from the toilet and faced me, catching my stare and holding it.
He didn’t look away when he reached toward the wall and pulled a towel off the bar, and he didn’t look away when he held it between us.
He looked at me like he saw me, like he had something else he wanted to say, but he knew I wouldn’t want to hear it.
I snatched the towel out of his hand and made quick work of drying off before shoving it back into his hands.
“I should go,” I said, stepping out of the tub and brushing past him. I needed to get back to the bedroom to find my clothes, needed to get dressed, needed to get the hell out of there.
“I’m not in a rush,” he said from the bedroom doorway, towel still in hand.
“I’ve overstayed. I’m sure of it.”
Ethan didn’t say anything to that.
My clothes were scattered near the foot of the bed, and I dressed as quickly as my shaking hands would allow.
The jeans rubbed against my legs like sandpaper, the shirt stuck to my still damp skin like glue.
I fought my way into my socks and shoes, then checked my pockets for my wallet, phone, and keys.
“Are you good to drive, Jay?” he asked, and I almost didn’t understand who he was talking to until I remembered we were both lying to each other about our names.
“I’m fine. Thank you for the night. For your services. Whatever.”
He chuckled under his breath and tucked the towel under his arm.
He was still fucking naked, and he was so fucking comfortable about it, following me around his house with his limp cock hanging out.
In the living room, I grabbed whatever extra cash I had in my wallet.
It couldn’t have been more than fifty dollars, but I tossed it down onto his coffee table just the same.
“You paid me already,” he said.
“A tip.”
“Don’t need one.”
“Well, I’m not taking it back. Donate it to a fish sanctuary or something.”
Ethan snorted, and I turned in time to see him roll his eyes at me. “Is there such a thing?”
“They have sanctuaries for every other kind of animal. I don’t know why they wouldn’t.”
“I’ll be sure to find out and donate accordingly,” he said.
I scrunched my nose, wanting to fall down onto my knees in front of him and kiss his feet. Ethan hadn’t given me a single answer, just a dozen more questions I definitely didn’t have the answers to. It was worse than before I’d arrived, and I’d have to go home and be alone with it.
“I think I hate the way you make me feel.”
He studied me carefully, biting his tongue between the tip of his teeth. “I don’t think you hate it all. That’s the problem.”
“Well.” I clapped my hands together in front of me, the tears I’d expected in the shower finally threatening to spill. “Thanks for that.”
Without another word and only a hundred other thoughts, I spun on my heel and let myself out of Ethan’s apartment.
I slammed the door closed behind me which I knew wasn’t entirely necessary but made me feel better anyway, and I all but ran to the elevator.
It took forever to arrive, and I knew Ethan wouldn’t come after me, but whatever part of my body didn’t know that wouldn’t quiet down.
I sniffled, swiping the back of my hand under my nose, and the elevator finally arrived.
I rode it downstairs, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes while I did everything I could to ignore the sight of myself in the mirrored doors.
After they slid open and let me out, I ran to my car and collapsed into the driver’s seat.
The doors were closed, and it was late. I grabbed the steering wheel and screamed at the top of my lungs.
I screamed until it hurt to scream, and then I took a deep breath and another and another.
The clock on my dash ticked over to the top of the hour, and I grabbed my phone before I forgot to delete the message I’d scheduled to send to Silas in the event of an untimely demise.
Ethan had killed me, just not physically.
It was the awareness of this new side of me that hurt more than any rugburn on my knees or any ache in my balls.
Had I always known that I wanted both?
Was it greedy of me to want both?
I’d grown up seeing bisexuals scorned for being indecisive, for not wanting to pick a side. Would people view me the same way for being vers and wanting to switch?
“Fucking fuckballs,” I said to no one in particular.
It was so late it was early, but there was no way in hell I could go home to my empty apartment and my drained fishbowl, so I did the only thing I knew to do.
I called my best friend.
He answered with a lingering laugh on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Did I wake you up?” I asked.
“No. We were up,” he said. “Are you okay?”
I pinched my lips together between my teeth and shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. And even though he couldn’t see me, Silas knew.
“Do you want to come over? You can stay here tonight. We can talk in the morning? Have some bacon?”
I screwed my eyes closed and nodded.
There was a silence, and then Silas’ worried voice, “Are you okay to drive?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “No, I’m not okay. Yes, I want to come over. Yes, I can drive.”
“Are you sure? Marshall and I can come get you.”
“I can drive,” I said.”
“I’ll unlock the door,” Silas promised. “Get here safely, Lincoln. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll figure it out and fix it in the morning. Okay? Just like we always have. Right?”
I didn’t believe him, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah, Silas. Just like always.”