Page 62 of Salvage Him

My life would never bethesame.

I stood, my legs shaky and my steps uncertain. I wanted to run after her, but every part of me knew it was the wrong thing to do. I headed out the door but turned to look one last time as if she might appear and let me touch her again. The empty bench mocked me. Ironic that I found my perfect sub in that spot. I fucked it up by not being herperfectDom.

Now, shewasgone.

* * *

Brooklyn

I had taken a car service to the club. I couldn't face anyone, so I left Crush out a side door and ended up in a back alley. I recognized the building behind the club, and walked as fast as my heels would allow. When I hit the main street, I orderedacar.

I smoothed down my hair and rubbed my face. I straightened my disheveled clothes. My insides throbbed after the effects of the incredible orgasm. It was powerful, the two of us together. It rocked him—hell, it rocked me—and then I ran off like a scaredlittlegirl.

I let out a sob and covered my hand with mymouth.

The carpulledup.

"Miss,youokay?"

"Um, yeah." I opened the car door and climbed in. "White Cielo Building,please."

He tipped his hat and pulled away from the curb. He kept looking at me through the rearviewmirror.

I tried drying my eyes before we pulled up in front of my building. I looked down at my ridiculous pleated skirt and t-shirt. I dressed like a porn star naughty little schoolgirl. Even down to the patent leatherbackpack.

I loved this outfit, but now, it was fake. I was a girl pretending she was a sub. The outfit was cliché and so notclassy.

Not proper attire for a HighlandParkwife.

A wife who had cheated on herhusband.

"Oh, God," I said as we pulled up to the entrance of my building. I was relieved that Jason was at the door. Mr. Jennings, the other doorman, would stand too close to me. Even with his bad eyesight, he would feel my guilt, and an hour later, the whole building would know. Mrs. McIntyre in 12B came home looking like a well-fuckedslut.

"Mrs. McIntyre,welcomeback."

"Thank you, Jason." I squeezed his hand before letting it go. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I rode up the elevator and thankfully made it into my apartment without seeing anotherlivingsoul.

I kicked off my heels and shoved them out of the way. I unbuttoned my skirt and pushed it down my legs; I pulled my t-shirt over my head but stopped when the smell hit me. The smell of sweat, sex, and Harrisonsurroundedme.

My phone rang, but I ignored it. I crumpled to the floor. I was coming down hard from subspace, and it was goingtohurt.

Harrison had wanted to take careofme.

I should have let him, but Icouldn't.

I had done this to him, to us. I gave in, and now, I had cheated on my husband. The irony was I wasn't concerned about disrespecting Paul; I had disrespectedHarrison.

He touched me, and I had asked him to, beghimto.

Then I walked awayfromhim.

I pulled the rest of my clothes off and slid into bed. I placed my shirt on my pillow, laid my head down on it, andcried.

Iwokeup a few hours later with a newfound clarity. My body relaxed, sated from being touched properly. God, it felt good and bad at the same time. The spanking by Harrison's hand hurt in the best way possible. I could feel his hands on me, the residual of being spanked by someone who knew what they aredoing.