At the same time, I didn’t deserve to be deriving pleasure from the contact. Aside from the differences in his physical appearance, I knew that the changes inside of him were far more profound. I had wrecked him, and then Elle’s death had wrecked him all over again. I thought about what my mother said, about him being in “a bad way.” I closed my eyes to fend off thoughts of Elle, thoughts of everything that might have happened—that did happen—after I left.
His calloused fingertips landed on my chin. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
I kept them closed.
“Evangeline.”
When he said my name, I opened them.
“I know you hate me,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“What do you want?”
“I want what I came in here for, what I paid for.”
It occurred to me that this was a form of payback. He wanted to humiliate me. It also occurred to me that I owed him. If this was what made him feel better—to shame and punish me—then I was going to give him whatever he needed.
It was better than him grilling me for information. I couldn’t tell him everything that happened while I was away. So, I would give him anything else he asked for in return. I would play along.
“You want a lap dance? I’ll give you a lap dance.”
Sliding slowly toward him, I could feel the heat of his rock hard cock under me. Pushing his shoulders back onto the small loveseat, I gyrated my hips slow and hard over him. He let out a stifled moan. My nipples hardened, and wetness developed between my legs as the material of my underwear rubbed against his jeans.
This was a mistake.
He looked deeply into my eyes as I continued straddling his lap. We never took our eyes off each other the entire time.
He slipped his middle finger under my bra strap and nudged it. “Take this off.”
Every word that came out of his mouth added to my aroused state.
I obliged, unhooking it at the back and throwing it to the ground. His eyes never left mine despite my undressing. His stare was a mix of anger, bewilderment and unadulterated lust.
Placing his palms on my breasts, he began to slowly massage them. He rubbed the tips of his thumbs roughly along my nipples.
Sevin’s mouth curved into a slight smile. “You’re getting turned on, aren’t you?”
I wouldn’t answer, but I didn’t have to.
He continued, “I can feel how wet you are through your panties. Fuck.” Grabbing the back of my ass, he pushed me down onto him harder. “What kind of a man lets his wife work here?”
I stopped moving. “I told you. I’ve never done this before.”
He placed his hands on my hips to show me who was in charge and began moving my body over him again. “How much more money would it take to fuck you?”
I jumped off of him. “Stop. I get it. You hate me! You want me to pay for what I did to you. Just call me a whore and get it over with. Then leave.” I walked over to the opposite side of the room, covering my breasts. “This is a losing game, Sevin. You can’t possibly make me feel worse about myself than I already do. I wish it were me instead that died. I wish I were dead every single day. If I had the balls, I would just—”
“You would what?”
I gave him the honest answer.
“End it all…”
He looked like my admission had inflicted physical pain on him.
Sevin got up from his seat and rushed toward me. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever fucking say that!” Pulling me into his arms, he held me tightly. When he looked at me again, it was as if he’d just woken up out of a trance. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. So sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me for this. Forgive me.”
He kept repeating himself, asking for forgiveness.
I ran my fingers through his hair as he buried his forehead into my chest.
“I understand,” I said. “I deserve every bit of this.”
He spoke into my chest, “I’m just so angry at you. I don’t know how to handle it.”
The heat of his breath warmed my skin in the otherwise freezing room. Then, I felt wetness fall onto the bare skin of my breasts. He was crying. I’d never seen Sevin cry, not even at Elle’s funeral.
I held his face into me for several minutes.
“Why?” he whispered over my skin.
I wasn’t able to give him that answer.
“You left me.” He repeated louder, “Why? Why did you just give up?” He wiped his eyes and looked up at me. “You really think I hate you? I wish I fucking hated you, Evangeline. I’d give anything. I wish I could rid you from my heart, but you are my fucking heart.”
Walking over to the other side of the room, he picked up my bra off the floor and handed it to me. He no longer looked angry. Just sad and a little ashamed of his actions.
“I have to leave.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine.”
After I put the bra back on, he took off his hoodie and wrapped it around my shoulders.
Holding out his hand, he said, “Give me your phone.” He took it and programmed his number into the contacts. “You have my number now. In case you need it.”
After he left, I sat in the empty room, huddled in his sweatshirt, breathing in his scent, not knowing where things stood with Sevin.
I later hid the hoodie in my dressing room locker so that Dean wouldn’t see it when he picked me up.
***