Page 54 of Scandalous Contract

Because I said so.“Because I don’t want more.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Is that how you really feel?”

No. Yes. Maybe.

I nodded.

“Say it,” he told me.

“It’s how I really feel.”

“Say you don’t want to see me again, don’t want to ride my face again, don’t want me to bury this cock in your pussy again,” he insisted, eyes dark, intense.

I swallowed. “Julian...”

“Say you don’t enjoy talking to me, don’t enjoy me holding you while we watch television, don’t enjoy me cooking for you and taking care of you. Say it, and I’ll leave.”

“Why are you turning our last moments together into something we’ll both regret?” I asked, blinking back tears, not wanting things to end like this.

His jaw clenched. “I’m not trying to do that. I’m just trying to be a part of your world in any way that I can. And you want that, too. I can see it in your eyes. It’s my age, isn’t it?”

There was no point in lying. His age was part of the reason I couldn’t continue this.

“You’re too young for me,” I told him.

“I wasn’t too young to eat your pussy.”

“Julian!” I gasped.

He took a step forward. I held my ground, refusing to back down.

“It’s not my fault that you’re making this into something it doesn’t have to be,” I told him, holding his gaze, refusing to look away. “We had a fling. It was great. Now, it’s over. The end!”Damn!

“The end?” he whispered.

“Yes. The end.”

He chuckled and stared down at his feet for a second. When his gaze rose to mine again, it was filled with a dark determination that I hadn’t seen in his eyes before.

“If you didn’t want me, I would agree to this ending. But you do want me. And I want you. And I know we could be great together. So, this isn’t the end.”

“What...”

“I’m not letting you go, Stefanie. And I’m not letting you let go of me either.”

This man!“Julian, you don’t get to decide...”

“To be continued,” he whispered before leaning down and kissing my forehead. “Goodbye, for now, sweet Stefanie.”

“Wait, Julian.”

But he didn’t turn around. He rolled his little suitcase out the door and to his car. And like a fool, I stood there staring after him. Whether he accepted it or not, this was the end. An end I wished had gone smoother.

But he’d made things tense and awkward for no reason at all. I stayed in the doorway until he backed out of the parking space and drove away. He was gone now. An emptiness settled over me that hadn’t been there before.

“Goodbye, Julian,” I whispered before closing the door.

I leaned against it, letting the quiet settle around me. It was over. My spring fling had come to an end. I told myself that’s what I wanted. So why did it feel like something just ended that I wasn’t ready to let go of?