Page 13 of Mastered By Desire

Maybe he’s always been this way.

Even his physical appearance is a turn-off. I used to like his baggy T-shirts and casual appearance, but that’s his only setting. Even when he says he’s “making an effort,” he’s usually wearing a shirt with a hole in it, paired with a ratty pair of athletic shorts. He showers, but rarely washes his dark brown hair until it gets a greasy, oily sheen.

It wasn’t always like this. When we first started dating, he made more of an effort. Now he seems to have other priorities…and I’m not among them.

Mick twists around in his chair. He isn’t even playing, he’s watching someone else’s stream.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks.

I pause in the doorway of our bedroom. “What?”

“I said, where thefuckhave you been? Are you cheating on me, Leah?”

I want to laugh as much as I want to cry. “How could I cheat on you? We have an open relationship, by your request.”

“Open onmyside.” His lip curls in disgust. “Have you been whoring around?”

Okay, that’s it. I’ve taken a lot of Mick’s shit over the past two years, but this is the last straw. Two last straws, really. First, there’s the lie he just told about our relationship—I agreed to an open relationship if it applied to both of us, not just him. Not that I’d had much interest at the time in pursuing it, but still. That had been my condition.

And the second straw is using the wordwhorein a derogatory way, as a slur. I’m not okay with that. I never have been, and I never will be.

It’s fucking over.

Not only because of everything that happened tonight. In fact, even if I hadn’t enjoyed a mind-blowing orgasm at the hands of Dmitri and Gage, it would be over with Mick.

My mind whirls rapidly over the next steps. This crappy apartment is a month-to-month. I’d hated the month-to-month lease at the beginning because it meant fewer protections as a renter, but now I see the situation for the gift it is. I can walk away now. I just paid rent, but I’ll take that loss—after that auction, I can afford it.

“Well? What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?” Spittle flies from his mouth and his blue eyes are…there’s no other word for it. They’re empty.

A confrontation tonight will not go well. I’ve never seen him so angry.

For the first time, I’m actually a little scared of him.

I have to lie.

“Sorry, I was out with Danica,” I say. “I fell asleep at her place, that’s why I didn’t call. I’m not whoring around, Mick. You know me better than that, come on. Take me to bed so we can make up?”

I have to repress a shudder at the very thought of “making up.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to touch you tonight.”

“Oh. Okay.” I try to look hurt instead of relieved. Thank fuck. I don’t want his hands on me.

I hurry to the bedroom and put on a long-sleeved shirt and pajama pants. There aren’t enough clothes in the world to make me feel safe right now. The noises from his computer are the only thing reassuring me—as long as he’s watching or playing something, he won’t come in here and I won’t have to worry.

Gage

She didn’t recognize me. Even when she called me Gage, the name still didn’t register. I thought I saw a spark of recognition in her eyes, but she quickly seemed to decide either she was mistaken, or it wasn’t important.

It made the scene better, I think. Her not knowing.

Dmitri Montrose knows. Like everyone else who works at Low Vice, he signed a nondisclosure agreement.

I watched from the door to make sure Leah safely got into her car and drove away.

Now I’m back in my office wearing clean pants. My cock is still hard, insisting on the release that I refuse to give myself until I’m in the privacy of my own home. I’ll have a lot to jerk off to. Leah and Dmitri were stunning together.

All is quiet in my black wood-paneled office save the hum of my computer. Black-and-white photos adorn the walls. I didn’t choose them; they’re part of the club’s aesthetic. I don’t mind them, either. One image, a close-up of a beaded collar dangling between cleavage, reminds me of Leah.

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