Page 141 of Naughty Nelle

“I’ll be right back,” he managed, a few ragged breaths later.

He staggered to the kitchen and then returned with a moist dishtowel. My eyes stayed fixed on him as he cleaned himself up and slipped on his jeans. I just never got tired of looking at this gorgeous specimen of mankind. My beautiful Trainman.

“Saarah, do you have a pen?” he asked as he zipped his fly over his still swollen cock. He had regained his strength and now once again was that powerful, intimidating Adonis.

My eyes searched the small living room and spotted one on the desk where I kept my old, ready-to-shut-down-forever computer. My knees weak, I retrieved it. Beneath my dress, our hot melded juices rolled down my inner thighs.

Now fully recovered, Ari plucked the pen from me and dug his hand into a jeans pocket. My eyes grew wide. What he pulled out was a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Pasting it against the wall, he scribbled something on it. He turned around, and with the bill in his hand, gazed at me intensely with his piercing blue eyes.

“I want you to have this. In case of an emergency. My cell phone number is written on it. If you ever need me, I want you to call me. But promise you won’t give out the number to anyone. I safeguard my privacy.”

I nodded and let him slip the hundred-dollar bill into my hand.

“I have to go. Ben will be home soon. It’s a school night.”

He strutted to the door and swung it open. My heart was a sinking ship, knowing that this was goodbye again. Holding the door open with his foot, he leaned against the doorway.

“Come here, princess,” he ordered, motioning with his finger.

Fighting back tears, I slowly padded over to him. He hooked his arm around my waist, drawing me next to him, chest against chest. He smacked a hot kiss on my lips and then flashed that dazzling, dimpled smile.

“Saarah, I must say you are definitely an expert when it comes to toys.”

And with that, he jogged down the stairs.

I closed the door behind me and slid down against it into a crouching position. I stared at his hundred-dollar bill, not knowing if I should be insulted by it or flattered. All at once, I felt like a spurned lover, an orphan, and a whore. Was I nothing but a girl toy to him? Something, not someone, he’d grow tired of that could be passed on or simply thrown away? One minute he made me feel loved; the next minute he made me feel used. The jumble of emotions was overwhelming. Folding my arms across my shins, I buried my head between my knees and wept for everything that was uncertain in my complicated life.

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