Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

“It couldn’t have been time in three hours?”

“Might change my mind in three hours.”

I sink into a chair at the kitchen table and fold my hands. I’m suddenly aware of how naked I am in the slinky, short nightgown. He’s seen even more of me, but now he’s fully dressed—and he’s leaving.

“It’s that important that you go?”

He nods. “I stayed too long already.”

I swallow hard, because I recognize regret. And resolve. “Because of what we did?”

The chair creaks as he sits across from me, his long body folding into place, a temporary respite. “Because I want to do it again. And I shouldn’t want that. Not as much as I do.”

My heart squeezes. “Blue was telling you the truth. I wanted what we did.”

Something flickers behind his eyes. Longing. Anger. “How many times, Hannah? How many times will you have to suck my dick before I stop having nightmares?”

I manage not to flinch. “We could find out.”

That makes him laugh softly. “You are too generous.”

It’s not generosity that makes me this way. I want him to feel better, but I also know this is the only way I can help. Other people have kind words and homemade soup. I have tits and ass. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. This is the only way I’m useful.

“Blue would want you to stay.”

“He’ll understand.” Then he’s standing up, moving to leave.

I move too, matching his steps, blocking him. “Wait.”

I’m not sure why it bothers me that he’s going. I like him, but that’s not really why. It feels like he’s taking something with him. Maybe because if he leaves, if my body isn’t enough comfort, then I’m useless. Or maybe because he knows what it feels like to be useless in this world, to have skills you can’t use and nightmares you can’t share.

“Maybe it’s not a blowjob I need,” he says softly.

He stands as if to be judged, proud and forlorn. He’s strong in every way that counts, in every way I envy, but he’s afraid too. Afraid of what waits for him outside this door. Afraid of what’s inside the door too, wary as he watches me.

Does he think I’ll refuse?

I turn my face up to meet him, letting him capture me in a kiss. He’s gentle with me, one hand cupping my jaw, cradling me, the other at my waist. His tongue runs along the seam of my lips, and I open to him.

He’s softer than any man before him. Softer even than Blue.

When he flicks his tongue against mine, a gentle question.

I pull away. The answer is no.

“You don’t want to wait and say goodbye?” I whisper.

“This is goodbye,” he says, eyes searching mine. I know what he’ll see. The wistful salute to some future girl, one who’s made just for him. She’ll love every soft touch, every sweet word. I can enjoy them in the moment, but I’m made for something else. Someone else.

I was forged in fire, melted and re-formed. I need a man who knows I won’t break. A man who will test me just to prove the point. I need Blue, even if I’m not completely sure he needs me back.

Chapter Twelve

I lock the door behind West and make my way through the living room. Except I’m not alone.

Blue’s body is a large and silent shadow. He’s sitting in the armchair, watching. You can’t see the kitchen or the door from here, but I don’t know how much he heard. Does he know I let West kiss me? Just the night before, he pushed my mouth toward his friend’s cock, but that was sex. The kiss was something else.

Panic tightens my throat. Panic that he won’t understand. Or that he will.