Chapter 13 #3
“I know I’m not special,” I said quickly.
“I know everyone else is struggling too. No one is doing what they wanted to be doing. My roommate Hudson studied film at NYU, and now, he does marketing for a non-profit. And our other roommate, Delilah, is unemployed, has been for months, even though she’s applied to over a hundred different companies related and unrelated to her background in fashion.
Sometimes, it feels like I’m desperately trying to dig myself out of a pit while the world carries on above me.
And I wish I was up there, you know? With the people who really get to live. ”
Oh my God. What the hell was my problem? My mouth clamped shut. I blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but at the man in front of me. My breasts were now confined on all sides by rope, pushing out toward Wes.
But he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at me. Too deeply, as always.
He gingerly tilted my chin up. His penetrating gaze was certain, inarguable. “You’re going to make it, Nova. But please don’t let this group of people convince you that you need them in order to do it.”
I stammered. “I—I won’t.”
He nodded. “You might not see it, but what you’ve done already is incredible beyond words. It’s not nothing; it’s not just exposition. It’s more than what most people will do in their lifetimes. None of it is fair, but you do deserve the life you’re building. And you sure as fuck are special.”
My heart skipped. “You don’t know that. My books could suck.”
Wes dropped his hand, and I felt the ghost of his touch linger on my face. “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”
I smiled. He didn’t give me any useless platitudes, and my embarrassment for trauma dumping was undercut by his praise. I was warm and unburdened. The rope felt like a tight hug.
I’d been so absorbed by Wes’s rigging and my depressing speech, I hadn’t noticed the woman in front of us had her legs bound and spread apart, providing a full view of a man violently pumping his fingers inside her pussy.
“What do you say, slut?” he asked. He spit between her legs, slowly teasing the flesh around her clit as her back arched.
“Thank you, Sir. Please, Sir.”
My jaw dropped.
Wes followed my gaze before returning his focus to me. “See? Manners.”
I slowly closed my mouth and returned my gaze to him.
His eyes were scorching as they admired his own handiwork on my body. “How does it feel?”
I cleared my throat, but my voice still came out raspy. “Tight, but not too tight. Good tight.”
I almost withered away on the spot, realizing how many fucking times I’d just said the word tight.
Wes’s jaw clenched. The next curve of his lips was dangerous. “Good. I like the sound of that.”
I rolled my eyes, and Wes’s hand twitched. We were joking on the surface, but beneath the humor was a kind of feverish hunger I didn’t know what to do with. It heated the air between us, like an invisible current.
His hand twitched again. I imagined his tattooed fingers buried in my hair. Or around my throat. Or—
“Nova,” Wes said. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to keep you from exploring. I might not trust this place, but you still deserve to learn more about who you are and what you desire.”
The spell broke. Some heavy feeling crashed over me, like a bucket of water over a fire that had just caught.
“Some people here seem genuine. Genuine like you,” he said, watching me carefully as he frowned. “Sorry, maybe this isn’t coming out right. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything because we’re helping each other. Because we’re—”
“Friends,” I finished for him. My stomach was queasy, the rest of my floaty high plummeting in an instant. “Don’t worry, I understand. Like you said before, we’re putting on a show while we both look for answers. We’re… allies.”
Wes looked away, conflict written all over his face. Maybe he thought because I was new, I couldn’t handle myself and my attachments. But I understood him completely. I’d understood him from the beginning.
Yet, that understanding didn’t stop a lump from forming in my throat.
Wes untied me wordlessly, and this time, the electricity from his touch was overstimulating. It was a reminder of something I couldn’t have—at least, not with him.
“Wait, Nova,” Wes said when I stood the moment he finished.
“Yep?” I asked, forcing a cheeriness I didn’t feel.
Actually, what I felt was irritation. I was irritated I’d given so much of myself to Wes when he’d offered me very little. And I had a horrible feeling that this unequal dynamic between us was never going to change.
He scanned my face. Now why the hell did he look irritated? Whatever. It didn’t matter. Friends didn’t overanalyze their friends’ unspoken moods and desires.
“I’ll check in with you later. It was a light scene, but still. It’s common courtesy.”
I suppressed an eye roll. Great. His expression of care came from proper BDSM etiquette. That made me feel nice.
“Sounds good. Have a nice time exploring,” I said. I could hear the bitterness in my tone, and I regretted it immediately. I turned before I could see Wes’s reaction.
I made a quick escape back upstairs without glancing over my shoulder.