Now he puts the phone down on the counter behind him and grabs Mia when she tries to go for it. “Come on; don’t go to your mom’s. Please. Stay here with me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
She still glares at him, but as he coaxes her and wraps his arms around her waist, drawing her close, she allows it. She doesn’t speak, but she doesn’t struggle to get away from him, either.
My phone vibrates and I glance down to see Dante’s response. “Yep. What do you need?”
My gaze flickers back to the screen. Mia could keep the fight going, but she hates to fight, so she doesn’t. Vince can always keep a fight going, but he’s feeling threatened and for once he’s making the smarter choice. He pulls her close, tenderly touching her face and neck, brushing his lips across hers until she’s agreeable.
I type out a brief text to Dante about meeting up with him tomorrow. My gaze drifts back to the screen and now Vince is walking Mia into the living room. He gives her a light shove onto the couch and kneels in the floor in front of her, reaching up under that night shirt and dragging her panties down her legs.
I should’ve brought a drink.
“Vince, you don’t have to,” Mia says, attempting to close her legs, but he’s already between them.
He doesn’t listen anyway. He buries his face between her legs and Mia’s head sinks back against the couch. Her soft moan is music to my ears. I crave all her noises. I miss the firsthand experience, but this is better than their overall absence.
She’s off tonight, though. I get that feeling right away. Mia is an intensely responsive lover, but tonight she’s relatively quiet, her body twisting and writhing. There’s no grasping for purchase as pleasure moves through her, no letting go.
It’s boring. I’m never bored by Mia, so I don’t know if this is my fault or Vince’s, but one of us has her fucked up.
Even Mia seems to get bored. Without getting off, she reaches down to get his attention.
“Want to move this to the bedroom?”
He takes it as interest, but I don’t. Leaning forward, I switch the camera back to the bedroom a few seconds ahead of them. As predicted, Vince doesn’t go back and finish the job he started in the living room. I shake my head in disapproval, but Mia doesn’t seem disappointed, furthering my instinct about where this is headed.
After an aggressively mediocre fuck, Vince gets off and Mia doesn’t. He reaches down to remedy that situation, but Mia catches his hand and guides it away.
“I’m fine,” she assures him.
“You don’t want me to—”
“Nope.” She shakes her head, already pulling a sheet around her body.
“Are you okay? You don’t seem into this tonight.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
Bullshit. Mia can pull off a lively fuck while half-asleep. And no one has ever, in the entire history of my sexual experience, been too tired for an orgasm. That’s just a bullshit excuse.
Vince seems to accept it, though. After a brief pause, he says, “All right. I’m gonna go take this off before it gets itchy.”
Another fake smile and nod.
I run a hand across my jaw, adjusting the zoom so I can see her more closely. I want to zoom more, but I have to work within the limitations of the hidden equipment.
As soon as he’s out of the room, Mia sighs heavily, scrubbing her hands down her face, then running her fingers through her hair. I’m agitated, a faint strain of helplessness snaking through me. It shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t be there, relapsing and feeling guilt. She needs someone to keep her on track. Vince can’t even control his own demons, let alone corral hers.
Maybe I do need mind-reading abilities. I don’t know which part of tonight she’s feeling badly about, but I know what Mia looks like when she’s shaming herself. I recognize the lack of responsiveness, but most telling, her desire not to come. Mia only starts denying herself orgasms when her shame is weighing on her, and it angers me that he doesn’t know that. It angers me that she’s feeling that way at all. Especially since it’s probably my fault. Well, his fault for bringing it up, but ultimately my fault for unleashing demons on her in the first place.
Goddammit.
Was it him questioning whether or not she was raped? Her own confusion about that whole pocket of time, rubbed raw by his question? Is it because of what actually happened, or because he was on her about it?
Is there even a slim chance it’s because some part of her wonders if he’s the one she should be in bed with tonight?
There are too many possible answers and I’ll never know which one it is. I’ll have to keep an eye on things this week and make sure this is a fluke. Periodically, in the months since Mia and Vince moved into the duplex, I’ve caught a fight night where Mia went into orgasm denial mode, but it’s never lasted beyond a night. Hopefully tomorrow she’ll be back to normal. I can’t really step in; if I do, they’ll know I have surveillance on their house. That will obviously render it significantly less effective.