Page 14 of Room Service
“I like to fuck, Elise.”
“Oh.” I want to slap myself on the forehead. Fucking oh? My God.
“This would simply be that. A fuck. Sex. No feelings, no emotions, no baggage. Just me and you.”
“But I’m—”
“Married. It’s why I asked you if you loved him. So, I’ll ask again. Do you love him?”
“No,” I say quietly.
“Does he fuck you hard and make you scream?”
I should be appalled by his questions, disgusted, in fact, but I’m so fucking wet right now it’s ridiculous.
“No,” I admit.
“Does he fuck you like he hates you?”
“What does that even mean?” I question, and he smirks.
“You’ll find out,” he answers, and there’s a large part of me that wants to find out right now, but can I really cheat? It’s adultery. There is no grey area here. If I do this then I’m an adulterer, and there is no turning back.
“I… I…” I stutter as I struggle to find the words I need, my body at war with my mind. I can feel his chest pressing against mine, his lips so close that if I move forwards even a fraction, we’d be kissing.
My husband has never made my heart pound as much as this guy does. He’s never made me wet without touching me. He’s never made me breathless from just his words alone.
This is a whole new sensation, a whole new everything.
And the only thing standing between me and this man are my morals.
Do I have morals anymore?
Haven’t I crossed an unforgivable line already?
My heart never checked-in when it comes to my marriage, but I’ve been loyal and worked myself to the bone for Derrick to sit on his lazy arse all day for months. I’ve already checked out of everything, it’s just my body that’s still there, not my spirit. My spirit is waiting for me to flee, and it’s waiting for me to start living again.
Do I live now? Start early? Put a bounce back in my step?
It’s just one night… right?
Chapter Twelve
DORIEN
I can see the tug of war playing out in front of me. Her eyes telling me so many different things as she remains silent.
I wish I could help her, but I can’t. She has to make this decision on her own. But it’s the first time I’ve met a woman who is so desperately trying to do the right thing, even if she doesn’t love her husband. Most jump on my dick pretty quickly, but she’s different. She’s torn. And something inside of me wants to repair that tear and make her believe again.
I lean in until my lips are by her ear as I whisper, “If your heart has already checked out, then what have you got to lose?”
“My morals. My dignity. My beliefs,” she answers, her voice quiet.
I hear her words, and it makes something twist inside of me. Morals. I have none. Dignity. I own my shit and make no apologies. Beliefs. I lost my belief in anyone but myself years ago. It’s just how the dice rolled.
“This world is full of people that hold onto their beliefs until their dying day, but most I’ve come across are miserable and full of regret, not going after the things they wanted most and putting other people’s needs before theirs. And then they throw themselves a pity party on their death bed. I’ve witnessed it, and I refuse to live it, so I do as I please and fuck what anyone else thinks, because they’ll always have an opinion, and someone will always think you’re in the wrong somewhere along the line.”
I let my words hang in the air between us as I pull back and study her face once more. Her delicate features, her silky hair just begging to be wrapped around my fist as I fuck her ruthlessly from behind.
