Page 52 of The Bargain

No wonder my brother had followed her back into his addiction; her pussy was heaven.

The thought of my brother was just enough to bring me back to reality. I suddenly realized that I was fucking her bare.

My thrusts turned erratic, my dick swelling on the verge of orgasm. My primal self was telling me to come inside her, but I managed to fight it. Reluctantly, pulling out, I slid my dick between her ass cheeks and came all over it and her lower back on a grunt of pleasure.

I looked at her - breathless, bent over the table, half naked with my cum marring her skin like a branding, and I felt the savage male part of me roar in satisfaction at having her like this. At making her mine.

Mine?I jerked back, letting go of her as if she’d burned me.

“What have I done?” I whispered, taking a step back. “Cover yourself,” I barked as I readjusted myself.

“What’s happening?” she asked with a small voice. She winced as she stood and pulled her pants back up.

“I’m sorry. This never should have happened; it never happened.” I shook my head. I was disgusted with myself for having just lost myself in the moment, in her. I wanted to blame alcohol and whilst it had played a part, this was all on me.

“You can’t-” she started.

I raised my hand to stop her. “I can and I am. I said this never happened.” I turned around to leave, but stopped just before exiting the room. “Go on your date with Jeremy. That is not against the rules,” I added, keeping my back to her. Fuck, did I hate saying those words, but they were necessary.

I walked away briskly. After grabbing an unopened bottle of honey bourbon from my office, I did something that I had not done since my father’s funeral.

I drank myself into oblivion.

I’d barely seen Dean since what had supposedly never happened in the kitchen and in a certain way, I was grateful. I couldn’t believe I'd told him to eat me. Lord, what had happened to me? I’d been so overwhelmed by desire that my inhibitions had just vanished. Dean had left for Philly the next day and had stayed away for a week. He’d been back almost a week now and the only time I’d seen him was when Jeremy Hunt came to check on Timmy, who had started coughing.

I had refused to comply with his order to go on a date with Jeremy. It wouldn’t have been fair on him nor on me.

I’d been so angry at the suggestion, I'd felt like an object, nothing more. Dean had used me and then thrown me into someone else's arms like I was a good for nothing piece of trash.

Just the thought of it brought the sting of anger and pain again.

I sighed, forcing the negative emotions down as I braided my hair. The sun was so bright today, the spring so warm.

“Happy birthday, Opal,” I whispered. She would have turned twenty-seven today. It was her first birthday since she'd died and it was difficult to realize that she was never going to get older, that she’d lost that privilege.

I'd received a text from Dee as soon as I’d woken up. If I’d been home in Philly, she would have cooked me a lovely meal and we would just have a nice time.

Here though, there would be no commemoration for her birthday, because Dean couldn’t know the truth, not that he would have cared, he was efficiently avoiding me.

Sighing, I decided to take Timmy to the gardens, where we could enjoy the warmth and the sun. I loved the gardens. Despite the lack of flowers, it was still peaceful and beautiful there. I'd never had a garden, always living in smelly, overcrowded grey buildings.

I dressed Timmy warmly, maybe even a little too much, but I was always so scared he would catch a cold. After grabbing a checkered blanket, I settled him in his baby carrier. Walking into the kitchen,

I took a long whiff of Mrs. James' cooking. The smell of oregano and basil made my stomach rumble despite the fact that I'd had breakfast only an hour ago.

I looked at her with a little pang in my chest. Was this what it would have been like to have a mother?

She turned toward me with a huge smile, a wooden spoon covered in sauce in her hand.

“Oh Lord, aren’t you two adorable?” She beamed, resting her free hand on her chest. “You’re matching!”

I looked down at Timmy’s and my outfit and laughed. I had not done it on purpose, but it was true. My white dress was covered in cherries; it was the same for Timmy’s overalls.

“Ah, we do.”

“Mother and son,” Mrs. James agreed with a nod.

I looked down at Timmy again and lovingly brushed my forefinger over his peachy cheek.Son. Yes, he was my son in all the ways that counted, except on paper, which unfortunately was the only real way that mattered - especially against a ruthless man like Dean Beaumont.

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