Page 66 of His Big Bad Stick

“It’s done,” he repeats.

He leans down and brushes his lips to my right cheek.

I stand there, frozen, and watch him leave.

Once the door shuts, I look around my apartment and take inventory.

I have my artwork all to myself again.

Hopefully Simon is done trying to use me as a marionette.

I owe him nothing.

Doesn’t hurt matters that I finally got to experience Colver fucking me.

The feel of his tongue between my legs…

Or my mouth fighting to wrap around his dick…

I inhale a shuddering breath and swallow hard.

Colver is right.

It’s done.

16

Colver

I drive fast.

Too fast for being in the city.

I’m the asshole darting in and out of traffic, hoping to get home faster than everyone else. It makes it even worse that I’m in a lumbering pickup truck.

As I blast through a yellow light turning red, I see from the corner of my eye a woman at the corner pushing a baby in a stroller.

For some reason that’s my sudden wake-up call.

I lay off the gas, touch the brakes, and drive the speed limit for the rest of the ride home.

To my building.

To the underground garage.

This time, Abrielle isn’t there, jumping in front of my truck.

Doesn’t mean she isn’t plastered all over my fucking mind.

The stuff I said about her being like her mother. Me being like my father.

It’s all true.

Maybe that was too harsh to say.

A least Abrielle is doing something with herself.

Am I an expert on paintings? Fuck no. I probably couldn’t tell the difference between a real painting and some canvas shit you find at a store for ten bucks.

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