Chapter Nineteen Alex
“I have everything I need for now,” Theresa declares. She reaches for me, but I stand up before she can grab me again.
I thank her and walk toward the door, not-so-subtly hinting that she should leave now.
She remains on the couch, frowning up at me. “What is the matter with you?”
Sighing, I rub the back of my neck and look down at the floor, as if I’ll find answers hiding in the floor. “I don’t like how … familiar you’ve been with me.”
“Familiar?” she repeats, finally getting to her feet. “Alex, we’ve been dating for a year and a half.”
“Dated,” I correct. “We dated for a year and a half.” When I glance up at her, she’s staring at me like I punched her rather than used the correct tense. “We aren’t in that kind of relationship anymore.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to argue with me, but she simply takes a deep breath and relaxes her shoulders. “You’re right. It’s a new development. Forgive me if I’m not used to our new dynamic yet.”
I nod, accepting the sort-of-apology. “If you’re not comfortable representing me—”
“No!” She steps forward, reaching for me, then pauses and carefully lowers her hand.
“I still think it’s important to help you with this annulment.
Please. It’ll give me something to focus on.
” She laughs, the sound strangled and a little too high-pitched.
“I really can’t stand the thought of sitting on the sidelines while someone else helps you through this. ”
I scan her face and all I find is sincerity and worry. “Alright,” I whisper. “But I don’t want any goodbye kisses or thigh squeezes or pet names. Not while I’m married to Euan.”
“While you’re married to—Alex, you’re getting an annulment! You’re not in a real relationship with him! He’s some drunken asshole you met at a bar who took advantage of you—”
“He didn’t take advantage of me!” We’re both shouting now, and it takes a conscious effort to pause, breathe, and lower my voice. “Euan’s a good guy. We were both looking for the same thing that night and it just turned into something more than we bargained for.”
“What were you—” she begins, then snaps her mouth shut, as if she doesn’t want the answer.
Or maybe she already knows the answer. When we talked about Richard earlier, she insisted she hadn’t slept with him.
That doesn’t mean nothing happened. It also didn’t escape my notice that the first person she went to after our breakup was an old ex.
An ex who might still be in love with her, whether she realizes that or not.
Once again, I watch Theresa recenter herself.
It seems so easy for her to find balance in any situation while I’m always the one left slightly off-kilter.
“You’re right. For the duration of this annulment, I am your attorney first. We can revisit any other aspects of our relationship once you’re a free man again. ”
‘A free man’, as if marriage is a prison I’ve accidentally landed myself in. I don’t have the energy to argue with her further. “Thank you.”
She puts her heels back on, and I open the door for her. On her way out, she pauses and says, “I stand by what I said earlier. Euan should find somewhere else to stay.”
“It’s getting late,” I reply, though it’s not even seven o’clock.
The displeased twitch returns but she wrangles her expression into a professional smile. “I’ll contact you when we’re ready for the next step.”
I close the door so quickly, I almost catch her heel in the frame. Every part of me suddenly feels too heavy. I lock the door and lean against it, squeezing my eyes shut. When did our relationship become so strained? Long before the breakup. It’s a miracle we ever made it to the proposal.
Though ‘miracle’ is probably the wrong word. What’s the opposite of a miracle? Disaster? Curse? Tragic course of events that led to the worst possible outcome for all involved?
Not the worst outcome. Euan is not my worst outcome. If I’m honest with myself, marrying Theresa would have been a worse fate. One where I would have willingly lay down before her and allowed her to grind me under her heel.
Sighing, I straighten up and text Euan.
Theresa’s gone. You can return home now.
It’s only after I hit send that I realize I called it ‘home.’
I clean up the pizza box and a few other things while I wait for his response. When the message does come in, it’s not what I expect.
Euan
In a meeting.
The disappointment is quiet, soft, a little whisper at the back of my mind, but it’s there.
You spent all day with him.
But I wanted to spend all night with him too.
The dueling voices in my head could bicker all night if I let them. It doesn’t help that I’m still keyed up from kissing Euan, that I didn’t find any release. All I did in the bathroom earlier was wash my face and will my erection to go down.
If he’s in a meeting anyway …
I return to my bedroom, to the green bag I stuffed under my bed, as if anyone was going to snoop around my space. Whatever happens with Euan, I’m glad I had the forethought to buy the training kit and some lube.
Inside are three different plugs of increasing size, all with a curve to them like a curled finger.
I grabbed a random kit off the shelf, but maybe I should have paid a bit more attention to size and other things.
It’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of anal masturbation, and longer since the last time I bottomed.
I remember enjoying it, but in a faded, detached kind of way.
It’s probably a good thing I have a little time to explore myself before going any further with Euan. If I don’t enjoy playing with my ass, that could affect our developing dynamic. Or send it crashing to a halt.
I unbuckle my belt and drop my pants and underwear to the floor. I leave my shirt on. There’s something about being completely naked while I do this that feels more vulnerable.
Then I lie on the bed, the plug in one hand, lube in the other. I glance down at my dick, so eager for attention earlier, now sitting soft between my thighs. Everything feels awkward and clinical rather than exciting.
Maybe it’d be better if I positioned myself on my knees?
I roll over onto my hands and knees. It doesn’t feel better. Without someone behind me, taking control, I just feel kind of alone.
You’re overthinking this. I flop onto my back and try to focus on what I’m doing rather than how I’m doing it. I pour the lube into my hand and generously coat the plug, then turn my attention to my hole. With one lubed up finger, I circle the entrance for a second before slipping it inside.
It’s still awkward, but it’s not too tight or uncomfortable. The toy is a little bigger than my own fingers, closer in size to Euan’s.
Arousal sparks at the idea. Okay, so knowing they’re my own fingers isn’t very fun. But if I picture Euan fingering me, spreading me open for him …
My breath hitches and I shift restlessly, carefully stroking my finger in and out.
It’s not quite enough to continue fueling the fantasy, so I grab the toy and line it up at my entrance.
I move slowly at first, careful not to push too much in too soon.
The plug is somewhat tapered, so the more I insert, the more intense the stretch becomes.
When I finally feel the flared base press against my skin, I relax and allow myself time to adjust.
Euan is a lot bigger than this. I haven’t seen his cock yet, but I’ve felt it against me and can guess the size of it. At the thought, my hole clenches around the toy and it shifts inside me, pressing up against my prostate, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “Fuck!”
My insides squeeze harder, which makes the toy press more firmly, creating an unexpected feedback loop. I blindly grasp my cock with one hand while I grab the flared base with the other. I stroke up while I pull the toy out, then stroke down while I thrust it back in.
That’s it, Euan’s deep voice whispers through my mind. Take what you want.
I stroke my cock faster now, racing toward a climax. My other hand stills, giving up on thrusting in favor of pushing the toy in as far as it will go and angling to put more pressure on my prostate.
I picture Euan looming over me, kneeling between my spread open thighs. Whispering filthy words: I want to spread you wide open on my cock. Stretch you until your hole remembers the shape of me. Until you’re ruined for anyone else.
And I’m so, so fucking close to the edge right now. Just a little more—
Knock. Knock.
For the second time today, knocking yanks me out of a lusty haze. I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling, trying to orient myself.
Buzz.
I roll my head to the side to look at my nightstand where my phone has lit up with a notification.
Euan
The door is locked.
Shit, I haven’t given him a key yet. I scramble to my feet.
My hands are still slick when I grab the phone, so the biometrics won’t respond.
I’m too frazzled to remember what my pass code is, so I toss my phone uselessly to the side and focus on putting on pants.
It’s only after I take my first step and the toy nudges against my prostate again that I realize it’s still inside me.
Fuck, shit, I don’t have time for this. I can’t leave Euan standing in the hall.
I try to ignore the sensation of the toy tapping against my prostate with every step, but I’m breathless and uncomfortably aroused by the time I reach the door.
“Sorry,” I pant as I throw the door open, using the frame to hold myself up.
“I was, umm …” Masturbating while thinking about you.
Embarrassment keeps the explanation locked in my throat.
“It’s alright,” Euan replies, though he’s looking at me strangely.