Chapter 8
Isaac
My windows and appliances rattle when I slam the back door shut. I fled the basement, hoping guilt wouldn’t catch up to me, but I was too slow. This is the worst post-nut clarity of my life.
Jesus fucking Christ.
What did I just do?
The back door’s cool surface soothes my overheated skin when I press my forehead against it.
I’ve been around guys who bragged about manipulating women.
It’s like they won a game because a woman put their needs above hers against her will.
After coercing Denise in exchange for not kicking her out of my house, I don’t feel like a winner.
I’m a loser.
Worse than Matt.
How the hell did I let my anger take over like that? I’m not a dumbass kid anymore who used to let emotion rule my actions. I’m almost fucking forty, more than half of those years spent learning self-control.
But there I was, fuming in the basement as I waited for Denise to finish her shower.
I wanted three things: teach Matt a lesson with pain, get my watch back, and make Denise and her boyfriend promise to leave my house.
When she stepped out in just her towel, her skin glowing from her hot shower and smelling like flowers, lust overtook my anger. All I wanted was her.
None of this would’ve happened if she’d let me leave. I tried to because I knew if I stuck around, I would make a huge mistake. Instead, she sealed her fate when she offered to give me whatever I wanted.
No. It’s not fair to blame her. Matt started this mess by stealing from me, and I made it worse by threatening to kick her out if she didn’t suck my dick. Jesus. It sounds much worse in plain language.
I got into collecting watches because I’ve always been fascinated by time, and how it shares similarities with electricity.
Both have strict rules. Both are invisible yet powerful.
And both are measurable yet uncontrollable.
But while electricity follows a loop, time moves in a line.
Going forward with every second, the previous one lost forever.
There’s no going back in time, no undo buttons to fix fuck-ups or prevent them from happening. What I did to Denise changed our relationship, and it can’t be undone. She must hate me right now.
The incident in the basement replays in my mind, but the guilt that follows is dulled by awe. That moment when she released her towel will be etched in my mind forever. I’ve never allowed myself any detailed fantasies of her, but what I saw today was better than I could’ve ever imagined.
She was gorgeous. Fucking perfect. And the sight of her on her knees as she pleasured me was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life. It took every last drop of restraint to stop myself from dragging her down onto the floor and filling up more than just her mouth.
She resisted at first, but it seemed like she got into it too, which is probably why I don’t feel as bad as I should.
I feel guilt, but not regret. I finally had a taste of her after craving her for so long, even though it’s more like she had a taste of me.
Reliving the scene of Denise’s full lips wrapped around my cock, the shy yet sexy look on her face when she met my gaze is turning me on all over again.
I want to suck your cock, Isaac. Please. I need you in my mouth.
Fuck. I need to do something. I need to occupy my mind and body so I don’t think about Denise anymore.
I’m tired after my long drive home, but I doubt I’ll be able to fall asleep with filthy visions of her tormenting me.
I need to exhaust myself so that when I flop into bed, I’m lights out in seconds. An intense workout should do the trick.
I pivot away from the door and head upstairs for my gym bag. My phone rings, the call display announcing it’s my mother. Panic grips me. What if Denise told her what happened, and now she’s calling to yell at me? To say how disappointed and disgusted she is with me?
I hit answer, steeling myself for my mother’s disapproval. However, there’s a smile in her voice when she speaks.
“The phone was ringing for so long, I was just about to hang up. Am I calling at a bad time?”
I relax. Guess I won’t be getting an earful after all.
“I’m headed to the gym, but we can talk. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Raising hell, kicking ass, and taking names. And that’s just this week!”
“That sounds like a busy schedule,” I say, chuckling. “How do you even find time to do your bake sales and gardening?”
She laughs, and as it fades, she says, “Anyway, I’m calling to let you know I’m throwing a birthday party for Gordon next Sunday, and I want you to come.”
“Doesn’t he hate parties?”
“He’s OK with it this time because it’ll be small. Just close friends and family. He took a tumble off the ladder the other day while he was cleaning the gutters, and he’s still recovering.”
“How bad was the fall?”
“No need to worry, dear. Gordon’s a strong man.”
I frown, instantly suspicious. The more evasive or dismissive Mom is about an issue, the more serious it actually is. She always seems to think the truth is a burden only she can bear. If I push, she’ll clam up even more. I’ll have to go see Gordon to find out the truth myself.
“Alright. I’ll come to the party.”
“What about Denise?” she asks, her voice quiet and hopeful. “Do you think she might come too?”
The mention of Denise’s name reminds me of what went down between us less than thirty minutes ago.
By the way, Mom, now that you mention her, I just got the best blowjob ever from her.
“I don’t know,” I say, faking calmness, like there’s nothing weighing on my conscience. “You’ll have to ask her.”
“She blocked my number.”
Ouch. I forgot Denise burned that bridge when Gordon made her leave. Is that what she would do to me too? Shut me out of her life for good?
“OK. I’ll tell her about the party and let you know what she says.”
“I would like her to be there. Gordon said so too.” She exhales. “I’m glad she’s living with you. You’re a good man for looking out for her.”
Mom’s words sharpen the guilt already knifing through me. After we exchange promises to see each other soon, tension leaves my body when our call ends. I shove my phone into my pocket, my mother’s words echoing in my head.
She’s wrong.
I’m not a good man.
A good man protects those he cares about. Today, instead of looking out for Denise, I took advantage of her.
And I don’t trust myself not to do it again if given the chance.
The memory of Denise standing naked in front of me fills my mind again. The way she trembled as I caressed her shoulder, and how her nipples hardened from my touch. How incredibly beautiful she was, bared and vulnerable just for me.
I shake my head, tighten my grip on my gym bag, and leave my room.