Page 11 of Unspoken Rules

“I’m there, baby. Come with me.”

A few more thrusts and I’m coming. I force my eyes to stay open to watch Bryson as he coats his stomach in cum for the second time tonight. The sight intensifies my orgasm, and I feel it in my goddamn toes. I can barely breathe. I’m panting when it subsides, but I lean forward to spread his cum over his stomach. He smiles lazily, eyes closed like he’s half asleep. I squeeze his dick, getting out the last drops of cum that I collect with my thumb and swipe along his lips. His eyes shoot open.

“Lick it clean.”

He’s hesitant, but only for a second before he wraps his lips around my thumb and sucks.

I lean down further to kiss his soft lips. “Let’s shower.”

I lead him to the bathroom, dispose of the condom, put the shower on, and gesture for him to get inside when it’s hot. He reaches for the shampoo, but I push his hand away and pick it up.

“I can wash myself,” he says, seeming almost embarrassed when I begin washing his hair.

“Clearly, or you’d be a lot smellier than you are.”

“I’m not smelly at all,” he argues, peeking at me through squinted eyes.

“I like doing this,” I say more softly. “The sex was tame, but I still think it’s important.”

“Do you regularly have untame sex?” he asks carefully.

“Not regularly, no.”

I guide him under the water to rinse his hair. His eyes fall closed and his lips part as I massage the soap from his hair. I have the terrible urge to lean down and kiss him but force myself not to. That will only complicate things further. I’m fighting enough guilt as it is, and I wonder if he’s feeling the same way. Is he bothered by this? What are his plans? How is he going to face my son? I’m not sure how I will.

“Are you in pain?” I ask, needing to break the silence and get out of my head.

“Not even close,” he says with a lazy smile.

When his hair is rinsed, I wash him. He argues, but I don’t care. I make sure he’s clean and taken care of before I wash myself. Nothing about this is awkward. In fact, it’s scary how normal it all seems. We get out and dry ourselves off before heading into the room where I find us both something to wear.

“I always pack extras,” I say as I offer him a pair of sleep pants.

He takes them hesitantly. “I have clothes.”

“Well, these are right here, while yours are buried in your unopened suitcase.”

He looks at his suitcase, nods, and puts on the ones I gave him. He ties the string tight, considering they’re at least a size too big. Bryson looks like he fills out a medium pretty well, where I’m filling out a large and sometimes need extra-large depending on the brand.

“You hungry?” I ask, using the towel to dry off my hair that is still dripping water.

“I could eat.”

I toss the wet towels into the corner of the bathroom before ordering room service. Bryson gets comfortable on the bed, turning on the TV while we wait for the food. When it arrives, we eat quickly, both famished from the alcohol and sex. I make sure he drinks plenty of water. Then we go to bed.

It’s concerning that sharing a bed with him isn’t awkward. Cuddling is a bad idea, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind. This thing with Bryson can’t be more than this one night. Hell, even this shouldn’t have happened.

I should ask him where he’s going tomorrow. Or where he’s going to stay at all. But I can’t do it. My throat is tight as I replay the night and realize how badly I fucked up.

This should not have happened.

Offering him a place to stay should have been the end of it. Letting him sleep on the couch or the floor would have been fine. Sex never should have been on the table. Never. And had this night played out differently, and we hadn't crossed lines, maybe I’d have done the right thing and offered for him to stay with me and Christopher. But I can’t do that now.

I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything so stupid in my entire life. What’s worse is I didn’t hate it. I just hate myself for being too weak to say no.

Chapter Six

Bryson

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