Page 51 of Call You Mine

No touch other than:

Fingers/lips wrapped around my cock

Hands on my shoulders for stability.

No kissing.

Absolutely no penetration.

The last one was always one they thought they could find their way around. Every client of mine came to our agreement with the false hope of being the woman to change me or break one of my rules. They all wanted my lips on theirs, my dick inside of them but although they begged, and begged for it, I never broke my restraint.

I simply didn't want to because they weren’t Wynter.

I broke my rule once, with Clarissa. It was the day after my first fight with Wynter, the last time she came to town for a visit before suddenly appearing at my door a month ago.

I knew Wynter wasn’t being forthcoming about what was really going on, why she was in New York when it was the last place she wanted to be. She’d told me it was for work, modeling gigs she would get that kept her there. But I never saw her in any magazine or on a billboard in town. She reminded me although we were friends I had no right to know. She owed me nothing.

Wynter made it clear I wasn’t her father, especially not her fucking boyfriend, before telling me to stay the fuck out of her life. So, I did. I knew after why she did it—pushed me away like that. For the first time since we’d started this, well whatever this is between us, the lines were blurred. We’d become more than just friends, you could feel it in the tension filled air around us, see it in the way we looked at one another, and neither one of us wanted that. It was a risk we’d always known of—that spending this much time together, talking almost every day—our friendship would become hard to distinguish. We’d flirt back and forth, tease one another, and although we both could feel the shift, neither one of us wanted to accept it was there.

I was a mess after she walked out on me. I regretted everything that had transpired between us. Wynter had proven me right, she was just like every other girl and I hated theway her reluctance to trust me completely felt. I’d opened up to her, made myself available for everything she needed, and yet it wasn’t enough to warrant her trust in return.

I did what I did best—sabotaged the one good thing I had in my life with the worst possible decision. I ran straight into Clarissa’s arms—the one place I swore I’d stay out of. Of course she was waiting for me, almost as if she’d expected me to break at one point. I don’t think she knew about Wynter, probably figured there was someone since especially because I refused to fuck any of my clients, but there’s no way she knew the extent of it.

That night, I was drunk beyond consciousness, and I needed to release the anger I had in me. So I did, I fucked her until she was begging me to stop. Until the memory of Wynter walking out on my was erased from my memory, at least for that night. Then I left, without a single goodbye, I walked out on her and headed home.

I was attacked that night while on my way back to my apartment. Beaten near death by some thugs wandering around who surely saw how fucked up I was. Maybe they even followed me from Clarissa’s place. I’d walked after all, unable to locate where I’d parked my car. Maybe it was her husband who’d sent them, having discovered our tryst.

The possibilities were endless. All I knew was that I fucked up majorly, and I was going to pay for it. That night as I lay there bloody and an inch away from death with a bullet in my shoulder, was the night I swore to myself I couldn’t lose it the way I had. And that meant Wynter Servite, the only woman I could ever lose myself in, was off fucking limits.

Chapter Fourteen

WYNTER

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