At that, Serenity’s fork clatters to the table.
“What?” she gasps.
“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” I continue in a calm voice. “Again, we went really deep last night, and although you were very wet, I want to make sure you’re not hurting anywhere.”
At that, the blood drains from her face, and she turns to me with wide eyes.
“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Mr. Holt,” she manages in a shaky whisper. “Wet? Deep? What do you mean?”
It’s time to lay all my cards out because this charade can’t continue forever. I turn to face her, my blue eyes like midnight.
“Sweetheart, last night you must have been more tipsy than you realized because you came into my room last night. Not Stewie’s. I was asleep when I felt you rubbing those curves against me, and soon, you were taking me fully, like a mare in heat.”
The realization takes a second, and Serenity’s eyes go as wide as saucers.
“No,” she whispers.
“Yes,” I affirm in a low voice. “And you loved every second of it. That’s why I want to make sure you’re okay this morning, sweetheart, because we did four or five rounds in bed, and although you’re young, you must be sore and achy. Are you okay, honey? Feel free to tell me anything about your body.”
She’s gasping now, those chocolate eyes wide and disbelieving.
“Mr. Holt,” she babbles. “There must be some mistake! I was with Stewie! It was him in bed with me! I mean, I’ve been to his room hundreds of times and I wouldn’t make a mistake like that.”
I shake my head.
“Yes, but last night, you were drinking. Not a lot, but enough to get you disoriented so that you made a right at the end of the hall, and not a left. Stewie’s room is on the left, and mine is across from his, remember? Our rooms are mirror images of one another, so I can understand your mistake. Plus, neither of us have a lot of furniture, so it’s easy to get confused.”
Her jaw is practically on the ground now as she stares at me, that big bosom heaving up and down.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “It was you …”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I came in you multiple times last night, and it’s seeping from your pussy right now. But it’s okay sweetheart, because you’re on the pill, right?” She nods wordlessly, still too thunderstruck to speak. “It’s okay, Serenity,” I soothe again. “I realize this is a little strange, but I had an amazing time with you last night.”
At that, she sits up straight.
“Oh my God. I didn’t know I was in your bed, I swear. OMG, OMG, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, covering her hand with one of my own. “I enjoyed myself very much, and if I’m not mistaken, you did, too.”
The curvy girl blushes hotly, and is unable to meet my eyes. “I did, but I swear I thought I was with Stewie, Mr. Holt! You have to believe me! This is all just a huge mistake, and I should’ve figured it out sooner. Oh my God, I’m never going to drink again! OMG, OMG—”
But I cut her off and put one finger under her chin to lift her gaze to mine. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together, sweetheart.”
She bites her lip, that plush pout rosy.
“I don’t want to lie.”
“Then don’t.”
“Then you know I loved it,” Serenity says in a rush. “It was the best sex I’ve ever had but…”
Before she can finish her sentence, we hear footsteps in the upstairs hallway. Oh shit, Stewie must be awake and he’s coming down. Serenity’s face goes pale, and she gnaws at her bottom lip. But I use the few moments we have together and lean in close.
“If that was the best sex you’ve ever had, then you’re in for a treat. That was tame compared to how good it can be, sweetheart,” I growl in her ear.
Serenity’s eyes widen and she turns to me. “I don’t think it can get any better.”
“Just wait and see, honey. Stick with me, and I’ll show you.”
At that moment, my son makes an appearance, and Stewie looks worse for the wear despite the fact that Serenity and I are the ones who didn’t get any sleep. My son’s got dark bags under his eyes, and his narrow shoulders slump. Even his black hair looks dull and matte, instead of glossy and full. He sees Serenity, does a double take, but then looks away.
“I’m going to Justin’s to practice for the tournament,” my son says. “See ya.”
He doesn’t so much as acknowledge his ex, much less note that she’s in our kitchen dressed only in my t-shirt. Yet, that’s how my son is. He probably thinks Serenity came back and slept on the couch instead of waking him up. Stewie grabs a bagel, throws his bag over one shoulder and then leaves without so much as a second glance.