Chapter 26 Raegan
Raegan
He seriously needs to put a shirt on before my vagina stages a coup, deciding she doesn’t care about my opinion anymore and takes matters into her own hands.
My palms itch with the desire to touch them.
That would definitely make things more awkward than I’m feeling right now, following behind him with Demetria in his arms, bridal style, draped in a fuzzy blanket.
She passed the fuck out before we could even cut her out of the rope.
Now we’re moving her to his office so she can rest before she goes…
home? Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.
What we did to her downstairs was… intense.
I don’t know what Hayes is feeling after what happened, but I’m simmering in a weird pot of euphoria and shame soup.
I can only imagine what Demetria is experiencing, or will experience when she wakes up, will be magnified tenfold.
We make it to his office and he glances back at me like I’m supposed to know what to do. “What?” I ask, tilting my head in question.
“There’s a keypad inside that little box above the handle.” He tips his head in the direction of the tiny box hidden in plain fucking sight. “Can you enter the code for me?”
My brows furrow at his pause. “You know I can’t read your mind, right? You have to tell me if you want me to unlock it.”
He clears his throat and averts his gaze as he continues, “It’s 1-1-2-4 #.”
I pull the box open, then pause when it hits me. I don’t move. “That’s–”
“Your birthday,” he finishes my thought for me.
I feel like I should say something, but when I try, my voice cracks and then…
silence. I enter the code and hold the door open for him.
He brushes past me and places her gently on his couch, covering her up with the blanket draped over the back.
He tucks it on the sides with care and my heart cracks a little watching him take such good care of her.
It’s so clear how much he does care. In fact, I’d venture to guess he more than cares.
He wanders to the wall and presses a button revealing a hidden room. He disappears inside it, then walks back out pulling a plain white t-shirt over his head. About damn time. When he makes it back to his desk, he lands his ass in the chair.
My eyes widen. “How many more hidden rooms do you have in here?”
“One.”
“And the code to your office is my birthday.”
“Yeah.”
“Hayes–”
Leaning back and relaxing his body into the leather of his chair, he closes his eyes for a moment, then releases a heavy sigh.
When his eyes eventually open, he locks them on mine and admits, “Raegan, every code I have–I’ve ever had since I met you–is your birthday.
Take your pick. Car, cell, penthouse… fuck, even my ATM and debit PIN is your birthday.
I know what we did down there doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know I’ve never once stopped thinking about you. Not one day.”
“What did we do down there, Hayes?”
He glances at Demetria, then back to me. “We gave her what she wanted. What she needed.”
My stomach churns at his words. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
I know she wanted me to join them. Why? I’m not so sure. Hayes was so laser-focused on her and her needs, I have a feeling he would have given her anything she wanted at that moment. I’m not certain I even want to know why that was me.
I’ve topped her before–obviously–but never with someone else.
With my history as her therapist, I would have never risked bringing anyone else in, even if she wanted it.
My career is too important to me and while I don’t regret my choice, the shame I still carry because of what we did–what I did–isn’t likely to go anywhere soon.
Watching Hayes take control of her like that. Dominating her body. Her mouth. Let’s just say Demetria wasn’t the only one with a soaked pussy in that room. I practically came with her from the intensity of it alone.
The high is waning, though. I’m coming down fast and I kind of wish I wasn’t.
“Where the fuck am I?” Demetria’s voice asks from behind me.
Hayes is out of his chair with a quickness and we’re both suddenly hurrying to her side. Her hair is already giving bedhead and her eyes are still droopy, not fully open.
“You’re in my office, Babygirl,” Hayes reassures her softly, crouching next to her and tucking some rogue chestnut hair behind her ear.
The sight of them, combined with his use of such a sweet pet name, hits me like a gut punch.
He hurt me and I hurt her. Then, in some weird twist of fate, they found each other.
I guess I should be grateful she has someone now to heal her heart after what I did to it.
But there’s a sliver of irritation bubbling just under the surface of my own shattered heart that it’s him.
I don’t know if it’s karma or irony, but it fucking stings and I hate it. I also kind of love it… for her.
God, I’m a fucking mess.
She sits up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders and yawning. “How long was I asleep?”
“Not long enough,” I say.
“She’s right,” Hayes agrees. “What we did was intense, you should rest.”
Blush creeps up her cheeks. “I kind of have to pee–” She volleys her eyes between him and me, before settling back on Hayes.
“I also think I’m either about to start or possibly have started my period and don’t want to bleed all over your bougie couch.
Some ibuprofen would also be great because I already have a bit of cramping. ”
Hayes scoffs. “My couch is not bougie. It is custom, but not bougie.”
Demetria and I give him very similar side eyes. “You do realize anything you use the word custom to describe, by nature makes it bougie, right?”
“Whatever.” He stands, reaching his hand to help her up. “Let me show you where the bathroom is and I’ll get you ibuprofen.”
She takes his hand, gripping the blanket tightly around her torso, and he leads her across the room where he presses a different button from before. “Oh.” She gasps. “So your office is fucking bougie, too.”
“Please stop saying bougie,” he asks, feigning annoyance. They interact so easily with each other, like they’ve been doing it forever. “There are supplies in that cabinet if you need them.”
He shuts the door behind her and turns to regard me. His brow is furrowed like he’s pondering something.
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t love the idea of her going home like this. She’s likely still dropping from what we did.”
He’s not wrong. Submissives often experience some level of subspace and drop after even mild scenes. What we did to her… she definitely needs aftercare and probably more than he can give her here.
“I don’t disagree. You should also know–because she won’t tell you–that she has a history of having bad periods.” She’ll be pissed that I even told him, but I’ll deal with the consequences later.
He closes the distance between us, worry written all over his face. “How bad?”
“She’s going to kill me.” I mumble under my breath before offering information I have no business giving. “Depends. Sometimes heavy bleeding, awful cramps. She even threw up once in the time we were together.”
“Fuck.” His fingers slide through his messy hair. I miss that hair. I think I spent every night we were together after the wedding, playing with it until I fell asleep.
The bathroom door swings open and I can already see it on her face. “I definitely started my period. How is it like a bloodbath down there already?” She blows out a breath, her eyes widening. “How many women do you bring up here that you need all of those feminine products, anyway?”
I grin and stifle the laugh that’s fighting to give way.
She always gets like this when she’s in pain or something uncomfortable happens.
She covers it up with humor. As long as she was my patient, I could never get her fully past that habit.
This is her way of masking both her pain and her jealousy.
Watching her use it with him is kind of adorable and I’m suddenly glad she never got over it.
I don’t miss the eyeroll before he tells her, “First off, I don’t bring women to my office.
Not like you’re thinking. Second, every single bathroom in the club has the same amenities.
” Okay. Someone is feeling a little defensive.
“It’s not uncommon for the things that happen here to stimulate a period.
Hell, hard sex alone can do it. You never know when, or where, you’ll need them. ”
Demetria lifts her hands in surrender. “Calm down, big guy. No need to get so defensive about it. I had no idea you cared so much about menstrual cycles.”
“I’m about to show you how much. Grab your stuff. I’m taking you home.”
Her face falls as she steps into him. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”
“Stop,” he interrupts, placing both hands on her face and tilting her head until their gazes meet. “I’m not taking you to your home. I’m taking you to mine.”
He places a chaste kiss against her parted lips, then turns to me with an expression I can’t place. “You’re coming, too.”