Reasonable Doubt: Volume 2
Page 5
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“Andrew....” I moaned. “Andrew....”
He released my nipple from his mouth and slid his hands underneath my thighs, picking me up and pinning my back against the wall.
“I know you love the way I f**k you, Aubrey...” He looked into my eyes, forcing his c**k even deeper into my pu**y. “And I know you’ve touched yourself every night this week, wishing it was my c**k inside of you instead of your fingers.”
My clit throbbed with his every word, and I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life.
“Tell me it’s true...” He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—muffling my moans with an angry, unrelenting kiss. “Finally tell me something that’s f**king true...”
Tremors traveled up and down my spine, and I was seconds away from coming, but he wouldn’t let my mouth go.
He was still kissing me—glaring at me, begging me to tell him the truth.
I nodded, hoping that he could read my eyes and see that I needed him to let go of me, I needed to be able to breathe.
He slammed into me one last time—hitting my spot, and I managed to tear my mouth away from his.
“Yessssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder and I gasped for air.
“Aubrey...” He gripped my waist until he stopped shaking.
As we both came back down, there were few random knocks at the door, a few “Is anybody in there?” taps, but both us remained silent and breathless.
Minutes later, when his breathing seemed to be under control, he pulled out of me—staring into my eyes. He tossed the condom away in the trashcan behind him and pulled up his pants.
I watched as he fixed himself in the mirror, as he smoothed everything so well that no one would ever know that he just f**ked the shit out of me.
I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.
Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.
“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.
“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“I said it’s rude to just leave after you f**k me. You could at least say something, anything.”
“I don’t do pillow talk.”
“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.
“What am I supposed to say after I f**k you, Aubrey?”
“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”
“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”
“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”
“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”
“What about her?”
***
An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.
On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York state seal on its center. I picked it up, but Andrew immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.
He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.
“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”
“That’s not a question.”
“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.
“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”
I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”
“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”
“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”
“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”
“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a f**king lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”
“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
“I lost something very special in New York six years ago.” There was regret in his voice. “Something I’ll never f**king get back, something I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget, and if it’s okay with you I’d like to make it to year seven.”
I opened my mouth to say sorry, but he continued talking.
“I’m not sure if I’ve made this apparent over the past six months or not,” he said, “but I’m not the ‘sit up and talk about my feelings’ type. I’m not interested in deep conversations and just because I’ve f**ked you more than once and can’t seem to get you or your mouth off my mind, that doesn’t entitle you to things I haven’t told anyone else.”
I immediately unbuckled my seatbelt and flung my door open, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get out.
“I meant what I said a few months ago, Aubrey...” He cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “You are my only friend in this city, but you have to understand that I’m not used to having friends. I’m not used to talking about personal shit, and I’m not going to start now.”
He released my nipple from his mouth and slid his hands underneath my thighs, picking me up and pinning my back against the wall.
“I know you love the way I f**k you, Aubrey...” He looked into my eyes, forcing his c**k even deeper into my pu**y. “And I know you’ve touched yourself every night this week, wishing it was my c**k inside of you instead of your fingers.”
My clit throbbed with his every word, and I was wetter than I’d ever been in my life.
“Tell me it’s true...” He pressed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue into my mouth—muffling my moans with an angry, unrelenting kiss. “Finally tell me something that’s f**king true...”
Tremors traveled up and down my spine, and I was seconds away from coming, but he wouldn’t let my mouth go.
He was still kissing me—glaring at me, begging me to tell him the truth.
I nodded, hoping that he could read my eyes and see that I needed him to let go of me, I needed to be able to breathe.
He slammed into me one last time—hitting my spot, and I managed to tear my mouth away from his.
“Yessssss!” My head fell forward into his shoulder and I gasped for air.
“Aubrey...” He gripped my waist until he stopped shaking.
As we both came back down, there were few random knocks at the door, a few “Is anybody in there?” taps, but both us remained silent and breathless.
Minutes later, when his breathing seemed to be under control, he pulled out of me—staring into my eyes. He tossed the condom away in the trashcan behind him and pulled up his pants.
I watched as he fixed himself in the mirror, as he smoothed everything so well that no one would ever know that he just f**ked the shit out of me.
I slid off the sink and looked at my own face—flushed cheeks, wild hair, runny mascara—and pulled my bra straps back over my shoulder. Before I could pull up my dress straps, Andrew moved my hand away and pulled them up for me.
Our eyes met in the mirror as he smoothed my hair, and for a split second he turned away—to pick up my headband. He gently held it over my head and slid it into place, and then he walked away.
“You know, it’s rude to just leave someone after sex without saying anything,” I muttered.
“What?” His hand was on the doorknob.
“Nothing.”
“What did you say?” He cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a mind reader.”
“I said it’s rude to just leave after you f**k me. You could at least say something, anything.”
“I don’t do pillow talk.”
“It’s not pillow talk.” I scoffed. “It’s part of being a gentleman.”
“I never said I was a gentleman.”
I sighed and turned around. I waited to hear the door close, but his hands were suddenly on my waist and he was spinning me around to face him.
“What am I supposed to say after I f**k you, Aubrey?”
“You could ask if it was good for me or not...”
“I don’t believe in asking pointless questions.” He looked at his watch. “How long do you have to stay here?”
“Another hour or so.”
“Hmmm.” He was quiet. “And while you were stalking me and my date how many shots did you have?”
“I wasn’t stalking you and your date. I’ve been avoiding you all week, or haven’t you noticed?”
“How many?”
“Five.”
“Okay.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready and have someone deliver your car to your apartment tomorrow.” He planted a kiss on my forehead before heading to the door. “Just call me.”
“Wait,” I said as he opened it. “What about your date?”
“What about her?”
***
An hour later, I slipped inside of Andrew’s car—a sleek black Jaguar. He held the door open until I was comfortable, and waited until I put on my seatbelt before shutting it.
On his dashboard, I spotted a red folder with a New York state seal on its center. I picked it up, but Andrew immediately took it from me and locked it inside his glove box.
He looked offended that I’d touched it, but he quickly turned away from me and revved up the car.
“Can I ask you something, Andrew?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I googled you this week and nothing came up...”
“That’s not a question.”
“Why didn’t anything come up?” I looked over at him.
“Because I’m thirty-two years old and I don’t waste my time on Facebook and Twitter.”
I sighed. “And you really haven’t spoken to her in six years?”
“Excuse me?” He looked over at me as we approached a red light. “I thought we just sorted this out in the bathroom.”
“We did, but—” I cleared my throat. “You filed for a divorce, and it couldn’t go through?”
“It takes two people to complete a divorce, Aubrey. Surely you know that.”
“Yes, but...” I ignored the fact that he was clenching his jaw. “Wouldn’t it be easier for someone like you to make it happen? Six years is a pretty long time to stay married to someone you claim you don’t love anymore, so—”
“You’d be surprised at how well some people can spin a f**king lie to get what they want,” he said, his voice cold. “My past isn’t up for discussion.”
“Ever?”
“Ever. It has nothing to do with you.”
I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms. “Are you ever going to tell me the reason why you left New York and moved to Durham?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to.” He steered the car into my apartment complex. “Because like I told you an hour ago, that part of my life never happened.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I just—”
“Stop it.” He faced me as he stopped the car, and I could see a world of hurt in his eyes. It was the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
“I lost something very special in New York six years ago.” There was regret in his voice. “Something I’ll never f**king get back, something I’ve spent the last six years trying to forget, and if it’s okay with you I’d like to make it to year seven.”
I opened my mouth to say sorry, but he continued talking.
“I’m not sure if I’ve made this apparent over the past six months or not,” he said, “but I’m not the ‘sit up and talk about my feelings’ type. I’m not interested in deep conversations and just because I’ve f**ked you more than once and can’t seem to get you or your mouth off my mind, that doesn’t entitle you to things I haven’t told anyone else.”
I immediately unbuckled my seatbelt and flung my door open, but he grabbed my wrist before I could get out.
“I meant what I said a few months ago, Aubrey...” He cupped my chin and tilted my head toward him. “You are my only friend in this city, but you have to understand that I’m not used to having friends. I’m not used to talking about personal shit, and I’m not going to start now.”
