CHAPTER FIVE
Sarah
What is this? Fifty Shades of Westbrook?
Sweet baby Jesus in swaddling clothes, that freaking hurt like hell! My sensitive skin will surely have welts tomorrow, not to mention there’s a good chance my collarbone will be bruised from his bite.
Shoving Jack away, I quickly grab his shirt and tug it on, and—discreetly grabbing my cell phone—excuse myself to the safe haven of his en suite bathroom.
Closing myself inside, I breathe a sigh of relief and lean with my back against the door. I can’t call Maggie since she’s celebrating her special night, so my fingers fly over my phone, preparing a text message to the only other person who might be able to rescue me.
Clint.
Me: 911, now. NOW. Please. For the love of ALL THAT’S HOLY.
I stare at my phone, willing it to light up. Because every woman knows the code I just pulled with Clint, my coworker. And being a Prada-loving gay man, Clint will know what’s what and see it for the definitive Get me out of this situation, please text. It’s a cry for help.
A glaringly loud one.
Flushing the toilet for good measure and then washing my hands, I swear I’m practically channeling my inner Jedi mind tricks to get Clint to respond to my text.
Finally—fi-na-lly—the screen of my phone lights up and rings as I’m drying my hands.
“Oh my gosh! Are you okay? What happened?” I exclaim loudly, not bothering to wait for Clint’s greeting.
“You’d better take me to brunch with endless mimosas tomorrow, beotch,” he responds dryly. Then he utters in monotone, “Come and rescue me, honey.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Rushing out of the bathroom, I practically skid across the hardwood floor of Jack’s bedroom in my haste to collect the rest of my clothes.
Only to find him dead asleep.
Guess I phoned a friend for nothing.
Once I’m fully clothed, I tiptoe around so as not to rouse him in any way and take one last glance at the handsome man lying on the bed before me. An arm is flung out into the space where I had been lying only moments ago, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. His lips are parted slightly, and a small lock of hair has shifted over his forehead.
I carefully pull the covers up over him and can’t resist a slight smile at how boyish he appears right now. Quite the contrast to Mr. I’m going to bite and spank you—hard—from mere minutes earlier.
Spying his cell phone lying on the nightstand, I can’t resist the temptation to screw with him. Once I quickly tap a few keys, I return it to its place on the dark mahogany wood.
“Sarah.” My head whips around at Jack’s low murmur. His eyes are closed. Is he awake? “I could really picture us together…” He trails off, his voice heavy with sleep. “…could be my wife.”
At his words, my entire body freezes. He’s obviously talking in his sleep, but whoa. This isn’t what I signed up for. I don’t need him getting any ideas like that—because I’m definitely not interested in something serious.
Quickly exiting the apartment, I hurry down to slip into the cab.
The entire ride home, I stare blankly out the window and can’t help but wonder what might have been.
And his sleep-whispered words continue to haunt me.
* * *
“It’s not that funny! It really hurt!”
My best friend is officially dead to me. She’s currently doubled over in laughter, nearly falling off the couch after listening to me tell her what happened last night.
“I’m…sorry.” Maggie attempts to smother her laughter and promptly fails.
“Yeah. You’re so incredibly sorry. I can totally feel the sincerity in your words,” I mutter dryly, leaning back into the corner of the couch to wait until she gets herself under control.
Finally, Maggie’s giggles subside, and she reaches over to the laptop resting on the coffee table and pulls it on her lap. “We’re going to have to research this.”
“What’s to research?”
Maggie pulls up Google and types in “biting,” “spanking,” and “fetishes.” She turns and peers at me closely. “Did he draw blood?”
I barely resist a shudder at the thought. “No, thank God.” My fingers move to my left collarbone subconsciously. “I have a bit of a bruise, though.”
Her eyebrows rise, and she gasps. “What if he watched those Twilight movies too many times?”
“Wouldn’t explain the spanking thing.”
Maggie’s face falls. “Oh. Right.”
“Unless he’s trying to combine the whole vampire thing with…”
“Light BDSM?” she offers.
I cover my face with my hands with a loud groan. “I don’t even want to think about this.” Releasing another groan, I blow out a long breath. “It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something.”
“Like you’re not cut out for sadomasochism?” Maggie offers helpfully.
Pulling my hands away from my face, I shoot her a dirty look. “It was going so great, Maggie.” I tug one of the throw pillows to my chest, hugging it tightly. “And then bam! He put me on the express train to crazy town.” I let out a sigh. “That’s not the worst part, though.”
“What could be worse than getting bruised from being bitten and a welt from being spanked?”
My lips twist wryly. “Getting lady blue balls from the whole experience.”
“Sarah.” Maggie rolls her eyes at me. “You did not get lady blue balls.”
“I did!” I protest, standing up and pacing back and forth in the living room. “He had me so freaking close. So close, Maggie.”
She curls her legs up beneath her on the couch, resting her head against the cushion and watching me with interest. “And it was good before…?”
“Before he pulled me into Fifty Shades of Westbrook? Yesssss.” My breath comes out in a slow hiss. “It was so. Freaking. Good.” I pause. “And he still packed another whammy with his sleep talking.”
Maggie gives me a look. “I think that was sweet.”
I make a face like I’m about to be ill. “Sweet? Not even.”
Dropping onto the couch in a heap, I stare up at the ceiling and brace for the reaction I know is coming. “By the way, I’ve decided to take the job.”
Maggie’s quiet for a moment. “Which job?”
I grimace at the wary softness in her tone. “The travel nursing job.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I think it’s a good decision. Not only that, but it’ll also be a great experience.” I say this with a sigh because I’m going to miss my best friend something fierce. “I’ve always wanted to try out travel nursing. And who knows?” I shrug, trying to pass my words off as casual. “I might end up finding someone who’s normal in the bedroom.”
After restructuring and cutbacks at the hospital where I’d been employed twenty minutes away in nearby Ballston Spa, I’d gotten in touch with my contact offering a travel nursing position. The job starts with a three-month stint in California, and then more scheduled positions follow in other locations along the West Coast.
“Where’s the first position?”
“San Diego.”
Maggie’s features depict both surprise and dismay. “San Diego?” Her shoulders slump. “That’s so far away.”
“I know.” God, this sucks. “I’m going to drive there, so I have to leave Tuesday. But we can Skype and everything while I’m gone. It’ll be fine.” The forced cheerfulness in my tone is obvious.
“But…you’ll be back in time for the wedding, right?”
The hesitation in her voice bothers me. Lightly gripping her shoulders, I offer my bravest smile. I know it’s weak at best, but I try. “Maggie. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Pulling her in for a hug, I hold tight. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” she whispers back softly. We embrace for longer than normal because I know it’ll be a while before I see her again.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I want to take advantage of this opportunity to bounce around and get great work experience.
It doesn’t escape me that I’ll also be leaving behind the memory of the handsome man who ended our night in the worst way possible.
* * *
The day I left Saratoga Springs to head to San Diego
Jack: Hey, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, but you’re not answering your phone. I wanted to say blue balls for everything the other night.
Jack: Wait. I’m trying to say blue balls.
Jack: Christ. I’m trying to apologize, but every time I try to say blue balls, it says blue balls.
Me: Maybe your phone is trying to tell you something…
Jack: Did you do this to my phone?
Jack: What am I asking? Of course, you did this to my phone.
Me: You have yet to apologize to me, Westbrook. Keep trying. Wait. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of my maniacal laughter.
* * *
Three months later
Jack: Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Blue balls
For falling asleep on you.
Me: Why have you not changed it back? Seriously, Jack? I know you’re smarter than this.
Jack: It got you to respond after you went radio silent on me for a few months. I call that a win.
Me: Need I remind you of the fact you fell asleep AFTER you bit and spanked me? And both were WAY too hard.
Jack: Would it be insensitive to mention that wasn’t all that was hard that night?
Me: It wouldn’t have made a difference if your penis had been like a freaking windsock. You still bit and spanked me.
Jack: Blue balls.
Me: I know you are.
* * *
Six months later
Jack: Just checking in. Heard that Justin Bieber song a minute ago, and he says something like “Is it too late now to say blue balls?”
Jack: Well, he obviously doesn’t say blue balls. You know what I mean.
Me: Would you stop already? Just change your damn phone settings back!
Jack: But this is so much fun. When I have to apologize and say blue balls.
Jack: By the way, I was listening to that eighties song by Chicago, “Hard to Say I’m blue balls.”
Jack: Well, you know the song.
Me: Jack. Stop.
Jack: It got you to talk to me again. I miss our text messages. They’re so chock full of warmth and goodness.
Me: I’ve been working my ass off. I eat, sleep, and breathe work.
Jack: Oh, blue balls to hear that. So blue balls, Sarah.
Me: OMG, Jack. I swear, I’m going to block your number.
Jack: Why would you do that? And stop all this fun? Just think of the stories we’ll tell our children about how things first started with their mom and dad. Or, more importantly, how their mom wooed their dad.
Me: First, there aren’t going to be any children. Second, we sure as hell won’t be telling them about how we were both left with blue balls.
Jack: You wouldn’t tell the children that part. But the part about how you wooed me… Surely, you’d mention that.
Me: There will be NO stories because there will be NO children!
Jack: What?! But children love stories! Would you really deny the children the story of how our love first began?! YOU CAN’T DENY THE CHILDREN!
* * *
Thirty minutes later
Jack: You can only ignore me for so long.
* * *
Nine months later
Jack: Word on the street is that you’ll be returning home to Saratoga Springs soon. Maybe we can get together in person so I can say blue balls.
Me: Seriously, Jack. Stop. It.
Jack: What can I say? I’m nothing if not persistent.
Me: Or annoying.
Jack: Admit it. You miss me.
Me: Please stop. Please.
Jack: Prepare yourself. I might even sing you Chicago’s hit song, “Hard to Say I’m blue balls.” Unless you’d prefer that Bieber one…
Me: Gah! Stop it!!
Me: Wait a minute… Your body is freaking amazing, you dress really well, AND you love eighties music and know a Bieber song. You’re either gay…
Jack: I’m not gay.
Me: Or you’re a unicorn amongst the male species.
Jack: I’m a unicorn.
Jack: A really manly unicorn, though. With really big hooves. And a MASSIVE horn.
Me: I’m done here.
Jack: See you soon. Maybe if you’re a good girl, you can go for a ride…
Me: Westbrook. Don’t.
Jack: Ah, but I’ve missed you. Messing with you via text isn’t the same.
Me: Good night, Jack.
Jack: Sweet dreams, Sarah. Sweet dreams.