Chapter 7
7
T he drive back to my place is a blur. It’s good that it’s late and the streets leading to my tiny house on the outskirts of Moonvale are empty, because I end up almost running a red light. Twice. My brain has vacated my body in the aftermath of what happened tonight. It’s only when I pull into the garage and turn off the engine that my ability to think comes back online—with a vengeance.
Panic and confusion spike inside me, and I clutch onto the steering wheel instead of getting out of the car.
I had sex with Wesley. Wesley . In an escape room! What. The. Actual. Fuck.
My phone buzzes inside my purse lying on the seat beside me, and I startle, scrambling out of the car and away from it so fast you’d think it was a grenade. I wince and let out a hiss of pain, the soreness between my legs making its presence known now that I’m no longer sitting. It feels like I tried to shove a coke can inside my pussy. Which isn’t far off from how big he was.
I still can’t believe it. I saw Wes’ dick. I sucked Wes’ dick and let him fuck me with that monster. I’m wobbly and lightheaded, the events of the evening hitting me like I’ve had one too many drinks. My breathing starts to speed up as I replay what happened in the escape room.
Oh god . I fucked my brother’s best friend, who I thought saw me as nothing more than an annoying mess. I called him daddy .
I bring my hand up to my chest and force myself to take a deep breath before I let panic take over. It’s okay. People have casual sex all the time. Right now, I feel like my whole world has been turned upside down, but I’m sure once I get some sleep and distance from what happened, I’ll feel normal again.
I register the stickiness on my skin and grimace. Okay, once I’ve washed the remnants of Wesley’s jizz off of my tits, then I’ll feel normal. Who knew minotaurs come like a firehose? The way he groaned as he coated me in his cum…would he make an even better sound if he came inside me?
My cheeks heat and my heart speeds up again at the thought, but I quickly shove it aside. Sure, Wes was fine with having sex with me tonight, but that doesn’t mean I should picture us together again. I’ve fallen into the trap of reading too much into interactions with men in the past, me imagining our next date and them thinking it was a one-night stand with an “easy fat chick”—one particularly nasty jerk’s words, not mine.
I take another deep breath and try to let realism wash away my foolish excitement, then grab my purse out of the car and head inside. I have to flick the kitchen’s light switch a few times before the fluorescent light turns on with a dull buzz. Shit, I really need to replace that. Yet another thing to add to the list that I probably won’t get around to for at least another month. Which reminds me, I need to change the air filters. And clean out the vacuum.
Just as thoughts of all the home maintenance I’m neglecting start to drown out tonight’s events, my phone vibrates again. My stomach clenches hard at the thought that it’s Wesley texting me to tell me what we did was a mistake. I debate leaving it in my purse and pretending like it doesn’t exist until the morning, but I should get this over with. I dig around in my purse and grab my phone, heart racing as I pull it out and unlock the screen.
I was right. It’s Wesley.
Meathead: Hope you got home okay, baby girl.
Meathead: Does tomorrow night work for dinner?
A tense bubble of laughter comes out of me, seeing Wesley’s nickname in my contacts after calling him daddy earlier. It’s absurd. This entire night is completely and utterly absurd.
Ariana: It was only a ten-minute drive from the escape place. Of course I got home okay. Your dick was good, but it didn’t make me suddenly forget how to drive.
That’s a lie, but I’m not about to tell him how dazed I was by our encounter.
Meathead: Just good? Hmm, I’ll have to work on that for next time.
Next time? He said a lot of things in the heat of the moment, but that was just dirty talk, right? He wants to have dinner, but I figured that’s him trying to be a nice guy and not immediately tell me it was just a one time thing.
I don’t know why he’s still flirting, so I use humor to deflect his comment.
Ariana: You want me so dazed from your dick that I become a danger on the road?
Meathead: Don’t worry, I’ll drive. You won’t need to worry about that.
Meathead: So…dinner tomorrow? Or are you going to keep ignoring my question?
My stomach flutters as I imagine him saying that with the same expression on his face that he had before he spanked me. I’ve always argued with Wesley, but it usually made me frustrated, not breathless and excited to push him until he loses his composure.
It’s hot, but fucking weird. I’m so used to shoving down my crush on Wesley that letting myself acknowledge that attraction seems wrong. Like I’m letting my guard down and asking for reality to come slap me in the face and tell me how stupid I am for thinking that someone like Wesley would want me.
Yes, I know his dick was inside me. That shouldn’t leave room for doubt about him desiring me at least a little, but the cognitive dissonance and past trauma remains, seeping into my reply before I can stop it.
Ariana: I’m not ignoring your question. I have to check my schedule and see if I even have any time tomorrow. I know it’s shocking, but I don’t sit around like a lonely spinster ready to leap at the chance for a pity date .
There’s an odd twist of grim validation in my stomach when he doesn’t reply right away to deny that it’s a pity date. It hurts that the mean voice inside me is right, but it’s a pain I’m familiar with. Much easier to manage than the anxious, excited hope that was floating inside me like a balloon waiting to burst.
Deflated, but calmer, I accept that dinner was his way of giving us a chance to talk about what happened and then move on. But I don’t need that. In fact, I don’t want that. It would be so much worse to sit there and listen to him tell me how I’m a great girl, but not what he’s looking for. Screw that awkwardness. Let’s get this over now.
Ariana: You don’t need to take me to dinner, by the way. We can just move on and pretend it didn’t happen.
There. Problem solved. A minute passes with no reply. Unable to leave it alone, I message again to make things crystal clear.
Ariana: I don’t even think I have time for dinner. So you’re off the hook. We’re good.
Another minute passes and I start to get pissed. What the hell? Now he’s ignoring me? I gave him an out. I was trying to be nice and save him the weirdness of letting his best friend’s sister down. The least he can do is reply! Why isn’t he?—
My phone rings. It’s Wesley. Who the hell calls someone in the middle of texting, with no warning? I scowl at my phone and consider letting it go to voicemail, but pick up after a few more rings.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“You done?” His voice is threaded with amusement, making me want to reach through the phone and strangle him .
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Done with what?”
He exhales dramatically. “Being a dumbass.”
“ Excuse me ?” My face heats with anger. I know he likes to tease me, but calling to insult me is extreme, even for him. I can’t believe I let him inside me. God, maybe I am a dumbass.
He laughs. The fucker laughs! “You’re excused, baby girl.”
“Screw you, Wes. You’re such a dick. I’m hanging up.”
I go to end the call, but a commanding “wait” from his end freezes me. I hate that I listen to him. “You have ten seconds to explain to me why you’re being such an ass.”
His throaty thinking sound makes my damn nipples harden even though I’m upset. “You asked for time to think about dinner. So I was giving you time. And then you were texting nonsense about how it was a pity dinner and that we didn’t need to talk. I wanted to let you get that out of your system before I replied. Because you’re wrong. I’m the one that’ll be waiting around for you to deign to go out with me. I’ll give you all the time you need, Ari. But I won’t let you convince yourself that I don’t want you. So, I’ll ask again: Are you done?”
My frustration evaporates and I’m left with a strange fluttering mix of embarrassment and hesitant excitement that finally drowns out the doubt. He wants me. Even my pessimistic ass can’t argue when told so blatantly.
I let out a shaky exhale. “Y-yeah. I’m done.”
“Good girl.” Hearing him say that makes me feel squirmy and hot, and the deep rumble of his voice when he replies lets me know he can tell how it affects me. “Take a look at your schedule and text me in the morning about dinner.”
“Wes.” I pause, swallowing down the remnants of my embarrassment at him calling me out. “It’s going to take me a while to… ac cept what you’re saying. That you… ugh, I never thought you’d be into me and it’s fucking with my head!”
“Well, I am, and I’m happy to keep telling you. And showing you. I’m so godsdamn into you that I got hard just from hearing your indignant voice when you answered the phone.”
I snort. “Pervert. Leave it to you to be turned on by making me mad.”
“And leave it to you to love me pissing you off,” he chuckles. “You’re telling me you’re not wet right now, baby girl?”
“You wish!” The flippant reply is instinctive, but my pussy clenches, knowing he’s right. Which elicits a hiss of pain from me. Shit, I’m sore.
“You okay?” Wesley’s voice goes soft in concern.
“Yeah, just a bit wrecked from your monster cock.”
“Mmm, poor baby. Need me to come kiss it better?”
The idea makes my breath hitch, and for a moment I consider it. He could come over and lick me again with that wide tongue of his until I have no brainpower left for doubt or worry. But a glance over at the microwave clock tells me it’s almost 12:30. Shit. I need to sleep so I can tackle shop orders in the morning. I can’t afford to be impulsive, even if I wanted to.
Wesley seems to understand my hesitation. “Let’s save that for another night. Get some rest, sweetheart.”
My chest squeezes at the endearment. “Goodnight, Wes.”
I stare at my phone, dumbfounded for a minute in the aftermath of our call. After a dazed shower and a haphazard version of my nighttime routine, I slip into bed and try my best to fall asleep. But all I can think about is that in the course of an evening, everything I thought I knew about Wesley has been turned upside down. I can’t decide if that terrifies or exhilarates me.