Chapter 33

“I’m glad you called. I knew at some point you would,” she whispered in his ear, right before sinking her teeth into the fleshy lobe.

He pulled in his breath, allowing the pain to fuse with the rage still churning in his gut. He didn’t know why he reached out to her, it could have been anyone but he chose the one woman who would make him feel even worse than he already did. He deserved to feel shitty, and she was perfect for the job. It was the second time he had used her to serve a purpose that day.

He wasn’t sure why he had pulled Maggie’s name out of the air when Mimi asked him his girlfriend’s name but for some reason, she had popped into his head. And here he was again, about to rage fuck a married woman to make himself feel something, anything but self-condemnation. Or maybe it was because of that. It didn’t fucking matter and frankly, she wouldn’t care. They deserved each other, in the ugliest possible way.

They were at a motel near the airport, a seedy, pay by the hour smut-hole for horny teenagers, hookers, drug dealers and apparently, adulterers. He had texted Maggie after driving around in his car for an hour, contrite and agitated, too anxious to be alone. He had been full of self-hatred and regret, hurting the one person that ever cared about him.

And why? Because he was scared to fucking death. He tried to deny it, to bury his feelings down as deep as they would go, to ignore all the emotions that surfaced every time he saw her.

She was always on his mind in one way or another and always had been, since the day they’d met. He was fiercely protective of her, of their friendship, and he couldn’t imagine a life without her in it, in some capacity. It was true, every single relationship he’d ever been a part of had crashed and burned, and he convinced himself it was because he wasn’t capable of love, but what if he had been wrong? What if all those relationships failed because he was in love with Mimi?

Maggie unbuttoned his shirt, kissing and sucking his flesh, rooting down his chest like a hungry kitten looking for a meal. Every now and then she’d sink her nails into him, reminding him that this particular kitty had claws. She reached his belt buckle and looked up at him wickedly, pulling back the leather to release its grips. He felt his cock slowly swell in anticipation, blissfully unaware of his stifling pain.

“God, I’ve missed this big cock. It’s been too fucking long since I’ve had you in my mouth. Why did you have to be so morally conscientious? We could have been fucking all this time,” she growled, pulling his pants down to free his cock. She eagerly wrapped her mouth around the head, pulling on the loose flesh, coaxing an erection.

He tried to concentrate on the warm, slippery sensations of her impatient mouth, but his mind kept drifting to Mimi. Everything was fine until she asked him to be her wingman, her proverbial fairy godfather. His feelings had been discreetly tucked away, all safe and secure, living quite comfortably in the dark spaces of denial. But then something changed. His desire started probing at him, little by little, poking him cautiously, like one would a sleeping bear. Maybe it was witnessing her awakening, sharing in her excitement, watching her blossom with each and every experience, discovering her confidence for the first time in her life. It fucking charged him up again too. He wanted her, and he wanted her to want him back.

But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he stopped wanting anyone else. That confused him.

Maggie wrapped her hand tightly around his balls, pulling his semi-rigid cock deep into her mouth until he could feel the tip grazing the back of her throat. She moaned her approval, deliciously lubricating him with her saliva. He laced his fingers through her spiky hair, guiding her while she mouth-fucked him, but still, pleasure eluded him. Not even mouth to cock could resuscitate him.

The truth was, everything might have been okay, he might have been able to swallow back his feelings, push on with her in her adventurous quest, ignore his own desires. But then the fucking party happened. He had no idea things would unfold the way they had and worse, he underestimated how he would feel about it. It was one colossal cluster-fuck, and it was all his fault. He had no one to blame but himself and now he was losing her.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Maggie asked, pulling her mouth away from him, her hand desperately trying to squeeze life into his flaccid cock.

“I don’t know, I guess my mind’s not in it,” he admitted, absently stroking her hair.

“I think the problem is that your mind is somewhere else,” she observed, sitting up on her knees. “Is it because you’re still hung up on this?” She pointed to her wedding ring with a cutting grin on her face.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s what it is,” he shrugged, looking regretfully at her adorned finger. He was hung up on something else.

“What can I do?” she smirked, leaning down to kiss him. Her mouth landed on his, desperate to pull him out of his funk.

He kissed her back but his heart wasn’t in it, and it was uncomfortably clear to both of them. He thought that fucking someone, anyone, would make him forget everything. Instead, it painfully reminded him of what he really wanted. His flaccid penis was simply mocking his self-serving posturing.

Fuck it pissed him off when Mimi called out his hypocrisy. Maybe she was right about him. He had been judging Arran for the same shit he’d been doing himself and the truth was, neither of them fucking deserved her. He was proving that right now, lying in a cheap motel room with a woman that knew fuck all about loyalty.

He pulled away from Maggie’s kiss, placing his hand gently on her chest, easing her off of him. She glared at him, her brows knit in frustration.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered, “let’s call it a night.” He sat up slowly, awkwardly yanking up his pants.

“You’re kidding, right?” she spat, readjusting her shirt. “You’re the one who texted me, Luke. I lied to my fucking husband to be here with you. He thinks I took my sister to the hospital. Do you have any idea the risk I took just to be with you? You’re being so fucking selfish!”

“I’m sorry,” he replied flatly, considering the irony of her accusation. Sadly, the fact that he wasn’t the only hypocrite in the room didn’t make him feel any better.

“Jesus Christ,” she fumed, sliding off the bed. She grabbed her purse off the nightstand rooting for her keys. “I thought you were cool with this, Luke.”

He looked at her emotionless, his jaw clamped tightly shut. She shook her head at him in disbelief, tucking her purse tightly under her arm.

“When did you become such a fucking dick?”

“I’ve always been a dick, Maggie. Maybe I want that to change,” he admitted remorsefully.

“Yeah? Well good luck with that!” she spat, walking towards the door. “And lose my number, asshole.”

She walked out without looking back, slamming the door behind her.

Luke rolled over and grabbed his phone off the table, grateful for the solitude. In spite of telling Mimi not to contact him, he wanted nothing more than to see a text from her. Anything, even if it was just to bitch him out. His phone showed no new notifications but he checked anyway, scrolling down to find her name. He inhaled deeply, reading over her last text to him, one just before their fight. She had told him to ‘drive safe’. He wished he could take back everything he’d said to her, and wondered if she was as miserable as he was.

They’d only argued a few times during their friendship but had always managed to work through it. The worst one, until now, had been when she told him she was marrying Andrew. He was completely opposed to it, of course. It was all too fast. He hadn’t seen her in months, both of them studying at different schools and throwing themselves into college life. She’d told him that she met someone, but he just assumed it would be a casual college fling, a fuck buddy to keep her bed warm and her libido satisfied. She wasn’t supposed to marry the fucking guy. When he finally met Andrew, he disliked him instantly. The guy was a pretentious piece of shit and, for the life of him, he couldn’t see what Mimi saw in him. He treated her like a possession, like she was a prized poodle instead of a partner, and he kept her on a very tight leash.

Luke tried to warn her, but did so with the tact of a twenty-one-year-old boy with absolutely no sensitivity training. Needless to say, she didn’t appreciate his advice. They parted, still livid with each other, both of them self-righteously stubborn. He wasn’t surprised that his wedding invitation never arrived, but six months later he found himself missing her terribly so he sucked up his pride and called her. They met for drinks, and although she feigned happiness, assuring him that she was a blushing bride, he could sense her despair. It would have been indiscernible to others but he knew her better than anyone. She unloaded on him that night, sharing her worries, trying to sort through it all. He realized there and then that she needed him just as much as he needed her, and that friendship was a whole lot better than nothing.

And it had always been enough for him. He didn’t need to seek out emotional intimacy with other women, he had Mimi. She made sure he opened up when things were tough, to talk about his crap. She made him feel safe because there was no hidden agenda, no judgment, no expectation. She was his emotional caretaker, gently weeding and watering his garden while he planted his seeds in other gardens. It was a win-win for him. He had the best of both worlds. The problem was, it stopped being enough.

Luke took a quick shower before leaving the hotel. His rage had dissipated, replaced with an emptiness that felt even worse. At least when he was angry he felt something, he could understand it, even sink his teeth into it. This chasm of nothingness, it was torture.

Once at home, his cold apartment matched his solemn mood. He’d left the balcony door open and it had been raining all night, making the room thick with dampness. He closed the door and turned up the heat, then made his way into the bedroom, flopping down on his unmade bed. He dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Mimi’s name again. Still nothing from her. He wondered if she was doing the same, staring at her cell hoping he would text, call, or apologize. Or worse, maybe she wasn’t.

He wrote a message and stared at it for several minutes, his thumb hovering over the send button. He wasn’t sure if she would reply back or not, but he was scared shitless either way. It meant that one way or another, things would have to change and he wasn’t sure he was ready for either scenario.

He sent it.

Hey...

And waited.