I almost don’t go into work the next day. I think about skipping, taking some sick time, but I know I have to face this.

I have to apologize.

No backing down from it. I have to apologize for hating him so much and tell him… tell him what I’ve realized ever since he came back into my life. Tell him what he really means to me.

I’ll tell him the truth and put myself on the line. I’ll give him the power to break me one last time, because I know he deserves it.

Problem is, I’m not sure I deserve the chance.

So I go into work. I put on a cute but appropriate outfit and head into my office like usual. I do my normal morning routine tasks, but the whole time I’m thinking about him, nervous energy pooling around me.

Finally, around ten in the morning, I let myself get up and go to his office.

But he’s not there. “Mr. Hayes isn’t in today,” his secretary says.

“Do you know when you expect him?”

She frowns. “His father died, so not for a few days.”

That sentence hits me like a truck. “His father died?”

She nods, looking serious. “Just last night. He said it was a long-term illness, but he didn’t even know.” She shakes her head. “Horrible tragedy.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, feeling numb.

I should be excited. I’m happy that bastard is dead. That abusive piece of shit ruined my life and ruined Justin’s and ruined my father’s, and probably countless other lives, too. He didn’t deserve to live.

But Justin, poor Justin. As soon as I get back to my desk, I call his cell.

He answers right away. “Hi, Remi,” he says, sounding tired.

“Your secretary told me.”

“I took a redeye to Chicago, that’s where he went before he passed.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He laughs softly. “Most people are saying how sorry they are, but you know better, don’t you?”

“I do,” I say.

“Look, I’m not upset. I’m mostly just tired. I didn’t know he was sick, but I guess this is why he’d been trying so hard to reconnect.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, actually, there is.”

“Anything. Name is.”

“I’m taking a flight back tomorrow night, and I’m getting in late.”

“Do you need a ride from the airport?”

“No,” he says. “I want you in my apartment, on my bed, waiting for me. Go there after work, the code is 91592. I’ll be back around one. I’ll text you the address.”

I blink, surprised. That number is my birthday.

“You want me… in your apartment?”

“In my apartment, on my bed,” he says. “Don’t make me say it again. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He hangs up the phone. I’m left staring at the receiver. I expect to feel something, anger at his father, relief that his father is dead, joy that maybe Justin can get some peace…

Instead, I feel excited. Pure, carnal, dark excitement.

Justin lives in an apartment in a gorgeous building next to Rittenhouse Square.

I type in his door code out front, and again in the elevator. I’ve never been in a building like this, and I feel totally underdressed despite wearing my decent work clothes.

I type in the number a third time on a pad on his door and head inside.

The apartment is simply decorated. He has a turntable and some records on a cabinet to the left and his kitchen is on the right. There isn’t much out, just a single clean bowl and a clean spoon in the drying rack. I go through the cabinets, unable to help myself, and they’re mostly barren. Inside the refrigerator is a half-empty carton of Chinese food, probably forgotten in his rush to go to his father’s funeral.

I wander into the living room. It feels so strange to be inside his place like this. It’s as intimate as it can possibly get and yet he’s not here. I’m a total stranger in this place and completely out of my element and yet I also supposedly belong. I sit on the couch for a second, testing the cushions, and immediately get up.

There’s an indent on the left side where he sits, and the right side looks completely fresh. Which I think means he hasn’t had many guests.

I keep going. I head into his bathroom, look into his medicine cabinet. Tylenol and Zyrtec and a toothbrush and some toothpaste. The toilet seat is up.

Finally, I stand outside of his room. I don’t know why I’m nervous to go in there. I guess it symbolizes something for me, like if I cross this threshold, I can’t go back. But I don’t think I can go back anyway, even if I wanted to.

Plus, he’s not here and I can leave whenever I want to.

I step in. His bed is a queen, gray comforter, oatmeal sheets. His dresser is big and wooden and probably vintage. I think about going through the drawers but I decide that I’ve snooped enough. I sit at the end of the bed and check the clock.

I have a few hours to kill.

I think about taking off my clothes, slipping under the covers, and going to sleep. But I suspect that’s not what he meant when he said he wanted me in his bed waiting for him.

Instead, I go back into the living room, sit on the side without the indent, and watch some crappy movies, my whole body vibrating with impatience.

Time ticks past like honey. I want to get up and scream.

I order something to eat. It comes and I pay, feeling strange. I sit in his kitchen and eat.

More time passes. I finally open a bottle of wine he has in the refrigerator, a decent white. I sip some of it while staring at a rerun of Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. It’s the least sexy show imaginable, so I turn it off, choosing Law and Order instead.

Twelve-thirty rolls around. I don’t know how but one second I’m listening to testimony about this woman that was raped at a park, but really she was set up by her boyfriend in a very elaborate sex fantasy, and the next second it’s almost time.

I get up and brush my teeth. I use his toothbrush.

I clean up my food, tossing most of it.

I go into his bedroom and undress. By the time I’m ready, leaning up against his headboard, nervously scrolling on my phone, it’s a few minutes past one.

I’m wearing a black bra and matching black panties. They’re lacy and cute and I feel so ridiculous, it’s insane.

I think about bolting again. I keep thinking about it, even though I know I can’t. I’ve come way too far.

I hear something in the other room. The door pad, the lock clicking open. The door opens and shuts.

His footsteps in the hall are practically drowned out by my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

The door pushes open. Justin looks in at me, his eyes flashing, a faint smile on his lips.

“I knew you’d come.” He steps inside. There’s no luggage and I guess he left it in the other room. He’s wearing a dark suit, rumpled from the plane. He looks tired, but still gorgeous, which is almost frustrating and unfair.

He steps closer. “You told me what to do,” I say softly. “I just listened.”

“Good girl.” His eyes drift over my body appraisingly. I thought I’d feel naked in this moment, totally exposed to him, and in some ways I do.

Mostly, I just feel lust. I feel impatient.

I’ve waited long enough. I want him to get over here and fuck me like I deserve it.

Instead, he loosens his tie. “It’s been a long day,” he says, pulling it off. He drops it on the floor and slips off his jacket. He walks to the closet and carefully hangs it. “I’m tired, drained both physically and emotionally, but it’s over and I’m glad I’m finally home.”

I sit up a little straighter. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.

His eyes narrow. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re glad he’s dead.”

I nod, not flinching from it.

“So am I,” he says, not flinching either.

I watch as he unbuttons his shirt. His body is muscular, toned, just like I remembered. He drapes the shirt over the bureau before unbuckling his belt. He hangs the belt and takes off the slacks, folding them carefully and hanging them as well.

He stands in front of me wearing just his boxer briefs. I can see his hard cock, pressing against the fabric.

My heart’s threatening to jump out of my chest.

“Come here.” Not a question. A command.

I move toward the edge of the bed.

“On all fours,” he says.

I shift my weight, crawling to the end, poised in front of him. I sit back on my ankles, looking up at him obediently.

He tips my chin back. “I’m happy you’re here,” he whispers. “I worried you might not come, and I needed… I needed a treat.”

“I’m your treat?”

“That’s right. You’re my little present to myself.”

“I can be a present,” I say.

“Good.” His hand moves around toward my hair and he takes a fist full of it. “You want to be an object for me?”

“Maybe,” I say, feeling a tense thrill.

“I think you do.” He tightens his grip, pulling me toward him. He moves inches from my face, and I can feel the heat of his lips so close to mine. I’m starving for them but I don’t move a muscle. I’m his to command.

“I think you want me to fuck you like an object,” he whispers. “You want me to fuck your lips, your ass, your tight little pussy and come wherever I please. I think that’s what you need.”

“Yes, Justin,” I whisper. “Whatever you want.”

“Good girl.” His voice is delicious and his kiss tastes even better.

I moan into it, my hands on my knees. I stay there, ready for him, needing him so badly. He kisses me slow and deep, his hand firm in my hair before finally pulling my head back. I can feel the pain but I don’t mind. I gasp as he leans against me and reaches around with his free hand to unhook my bra. I let it spill forward.

His hand finds my nipples, teasing and firm. I moan as he pulls my hair back tighter. I want him so badly but I don’t move a muscle. I’m an object for him. I’m his to use however he wants.

He releases my nipples and pulls his boxer briefs down, exposing his thick cock. He guides my mouth toward his tip and I take him between my lips, sucking him slow at first, loving his taste. My hands stay on my knees as I take him more. He keeps his hand on my hair, pressing me down further and further, cock in my throat.

I suck him faster, his grunts pushing me on. I gag but keep moving, tears in my eyes. He pushes me down deep and fucks my mouth, my breasts shaking as I pull back to take a deep breath.

He yanks my hair back and moves to the side of the bed, pushing me forward onto my hands again. My ass is in the air as he grips my hair again and spanks me once, twice.

“This is for ever doubting me,” he says softly, spanking again, again. I groan as he finds my pussy through my panties, dripping wet already, rubbing between smacks. “For ever thinking I could let you down, not take care of you. I’ll always take care of what’s mine, Remi.”

He spanks me again, and again, and rubs my clit between them. I’m moaning, unable to help it. He slides my panties down around my thighs and presses two fingers inside, making me groan.

He pulls them out, spanks my ass, and fucks me again. I’m moving my hips now as he slides his fingers deep inside of me. He pulls back suddenly and steps away, fingers in his mouth, tasting me.

“Spread your legs,” he says. “Turn around and let me see your pussy.”

I do as he says, spreading wide, letting him look at me. The thrill is pounding through me, pulsing like mad through my skin. I look over my shoulder as he’s cleaning his fingers off, his other hand on his huge, hard cock, slowly stroking himself.

“Fingers inside your pussy,” he says. “Two of them. Right now.”

I move my right hand back, folding forward, and press them inside. I let out a little moan, almost by accident. He watches as I press them deeper, slowly stroking my fingers in and out of my own wet pussy.

He’s stroking himself, watching me touch myself, and it’s one of the most erotic things of my life. I’ve never done anything like this before.

“Fingers out,” he says. “Look over your shoulder. Clean them off.”

I do as he says, licking my fingers clean while he watches. He’s still stroking himself and when I finish, he steps up behind me and grabs my hair.

I gasp as he changes. He pushes me down onto my elbows and presses his cock against my pussy. I can tell he’s had enough teasing, can’t wait a second longer. I’m on the edge of coming just from that, and his huge cock pressing deep into my pussy is nearly enough to send me tumbling into an orgasm. He fucks me rough, using my pussy however he wants.

His hand spanks my ass and he pulls my hair again, tugging me back. I move my hips and ride him.

“Get yourself off,” he commands. “Just like this. Ride my cock until you scream.”

I’m panting, sweating, my panties around my thighs as I push back along him, working as hard as I can. I’m moaning wildly and he slaps my ass, hard this time. I gasp as he grabs my hips and starts to fuck me rough, unable to wait for me to do the job myself.

He pushes me down into the comforter, cocking throbbing inside of me, and I say his name over and over like a prayer. I’m moaning, gasping, panting, sweating as the orgasm rocks through my body. I come hard, twitching and riding and groaning, eyes unfocused, feeling nothing but pure pleasure in my skin.

He fucks me rough through it all, merciless, controlling. When I’m finished, he pushes me forward and I lie on my stomach, panting and exhausted.

He pulls my panties off and throws them onto the floor.

“You’re nearly done now,” he whispers softly, pulling me to the edge of the bed, rolling me onto my back. I spread my legs wide for him as he presses his cock into my pussy, stroking himself in and out.

“I want to come on those pretty little breasts,” he whispers, cupping them as he starts to fuck me faster. “I want you to watch as I cover you, dirty girl.”

“Fuck me, Justin,” I pant. “I want to taste it.”

He rocks himself into me, his whole body tense, his muscles standing taut. I move my hips and moan, pleasure returning, though dulled now from the orgasm. He keeps fucking me faster, harder, rocking deeper and deeper, and I want it so badly I can hardly contain myself.

He pulls back and strokes his cock. He comes on my breasts in thick spurts. I open my mouth and taste it, licking it off a finger. He groans as he finishes, stepping back.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, looking at my cum-covered body. “Fucking beautiful.”

He leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a towel. He lovingly cleans me off and kisses me as he gets into the bed next to me.

“Nice apartment,” I say to him after a short silence. We’re both naked, hearts beating in rhythm, both spent from coming, sweating and tired.

“Thanks,” he says. “You should see it more often.”

“I can do that.” I look up at him.

“Good. I want you in my life, Remi.”

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” He leans down, kissing me. “I’m falling in love with you. I don’t think you can mess this up, even if you tried.”

I bite my lip and kiss him deep, savoring the words still in his mouth. “I love you too,” I whisper.

He pulls me close and holds me, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m home.