Page 24

Vivian

I showered, then wandered into the kitchen in one of Jeff’s white t-shirts. He was leaning against the counter, barefoot, in a red SDSU t-shirt and grey sweats, scrolling through his phone.

He smiled when he glanced up and noticed me, then asked, “Are you hungry?”

I nodded, not sure if I was supposed to assume the position on the island counter.

He opened the fridge and pulled out eggs and sourdough. “Have you ever made French toast?”

I blinked. “Isn’t it just bread and eggs?”

He gave a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “God help me.” Then he reached into a drawer, pulled out an apron, and tossed it to me. “Come here.”

I moved immediately to comply.

He showed me how to whisk eggs with cinnamon and vanilla, while explaining why he lets the bread soak instead of dunking it and tossing it on the pan like I probably would’ve. His hand brushed mine a few times as I worked, but he didn’t correct me or take over. Just let me try it myself.

“You’re not a bad student,” he said when I flipped a piece without mangling it.

“High praise from the Master,” I teased.

His brow lifted. “Careful, little girl. That mouth is going to get you in trouble.”

“Isn’t that what it’s for?”

His nostrils flared, and I knew I was about to get fucked on the counter.

And I wasn’t mad about it.

****

Jeff

She curled up on the couch next to me. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her hair was messy from where I’d pulled it. A faint handprint lingered on her ass, but she hadn’t complained.

She never did.

There was some rom-com on TV that she’d picked out. I’d let her choose it; I thought it was a small concession after the way I’d used her before letting her eat.

She sat close, tucked under my arm like she belonged there. I probably should’ve made her sit at my feet, but I liked having her by my side.

And that was the problem.

I told myself I was just letting her recharge before I used her again. That it was about control. Ownership.

But the way she tucked her head against my chest?

That didn’t feel like submission. It felt like trust.

And I hated how much I liked it.

She laughed quietly at something on the screen, and I looked down to find her wearing a genuine smile. Like this was normal. Like we were just a couple wasting a lazy Saturday.

I should’ve shut it down right then and told her to move to the floor. Reminded her what this was.

Instead, I pulled her closer and rested my chin on her head.

I was so fucked.

And not in the good way.

****

Vivian

Sunday morning, I woke up in Jeff’s bed again, but this time, he was nowhere to be found, and his side of the bed was cold.

I reached over and hugged his pillow, breathing in his scent. We only had one more weekend left together.

But at least I’d get paid the following Monday and be able to put a dent in my dad’s debt.

Maybe I’d auction myself again. I doubted I’d bring in another hundred-thousand-dollar bid, but we’d only owe twenty-seven thousand after this. Anything more than that would be gravy.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Only twenty-seven thousand .

There was so much I could do with that kind of money. Get my car window fixed, maybe move into an apartment that wasn’t roach-infested, or even take more than one class a semester.

Cherry said she made six figures selling herself. Could I do that, too?

I wasn’t so sure. I obviously fell in love too easily, since I was pretty positive I was head over heels for Jeff and was going to be crushed when this came to an end next Sunday night.

I’d either end up heartbroken a lot or jaded. Probably both.

As shitty an example as my parents had set on what marriage looked like, I still wanted to hold on to the dream.

So, no. Once I got us out from the loan-shark debt, I wouldn’t be doing this again.

But damn, I had enjoyed sex with Jeff and wondered if it’d ever be that good again. Even though he’d been kinder when we weren’t both naked, he’d still treated me like his property when his cock was out. And I’d been more than happy to comply.

I went into the guest room and hopped in the shower to wash his cum from my thighs. And face. And hair.

Maybe I was pathetic for liking it, and maybe, possibly, probably, being in love with him, but I’d come to know both sides of him. And I liked both.

I came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and found him sitting on the guest room bed.

“Towel off.”

I didn’t hesitate to let it drop to my feet and stand there naked for him to look at.

And he did. He took his time perusing me from head to toe before he commanded, “Get on the bed and spread your legs.”

Again, I immediately did as instructed. My mind raced with what could possibly be in store for me.

He gave a sinister chuckle, the one I’d come to crave, then ran his finger down my seam.

“You dirty whore. You’re already wet.”

Then he did something he’d never done. He brought his fingers to his mouth, and said, “Mmm, your cunt tastes good. I think I’ll have some more.”

I had to spread my legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders as he positioned himself between my thighs. He didn’t waste any time running his tongue through my folds.

I gasped out loud and bowed my back off the bed.

In response, he pinned my hips in place with one arm and attacked my clit with his tongue while pumping two fingers in and out of me.

I let out a long moan, and despite being held in place, tried to grind against his face.

Smack!

He landed a sharp slap to my clit.

“Don’t even think about coming until I tell you.”

“Yes, Sir,” I panted.

Another smack landed on my clit.

“You did think about it.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. It just feels so good.”

He sucked my little nub between his lips and flicked his tongue while he fingered me. I was in sensory overload heaven.

I reached down to grab his hair and hold his face tight against my pussy, then thought better of it, and ran my fingers through his thick hair instead.

“Please, Sir. Can I come?”

I expected him to tell me no, but instead, he snarled, “Come, whore.”

My body responded accordingly, and I went from every muscle in my body being constricted, to shuddering in climax. Then my limbs felt like they were made of gelatin.

He leaned down and kissed me—also a first, although I think it was more so he could make me taste myself.

God, I was going to miss this.

My arm wove around his neck as I kissed him back. Our tongues danced and sparred, and as usual, he won control.

And I happily gave it.

****

Jeff

She was packing her bag in the guest room, while I stayed in the living room and scrolled through my phone, trying to occupy my thoughts.

I had to tell myself to unclench my jaw as I waited for her. I’d fucking come to loathe Sunday nights.

She came downstairs a few minutes later in another long-sleeved dress, this one a cobalt blue that matched her eyes. Her collar was in place, and I’d be willing to bet my last dime that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

I got up to meet her at the door, and skimmed my hand along her ass, just to doublecheck.

“Good girl,” I murmured in her ear with a smile.

She looked up and replied, “I do learn, ya know.”

“I know you do.”

The club car pulled into the drive, and I wanted to go punch the driver for being on time.

Her eyes flicked to the window by the door when she saw the headlights, then back to me. “I guess I’ll see you Friday.”

I nodded once.

She turned to go, but I caught her wrist and pulled her into me.

Then I fucking kissed her forehead.

What the hell am I doing?

I think she must have wondered the same thing, because she blinked up at me with her eyes wide, like she’d been caught off guard.

“Have a good week,” I said, and smacked her ass, ‘cuz, ya know, that would negate what I’d just done. (Insert eyeroll here.)

She nodded and walked out the door.

And I stood there in the doorway watching her get in the car, then waved when she pulled away.

The entire time wishing I had enough balls just to ask her to stay.