Page 33 of Volatile

With the exception of a few sporadic thoughts, Jon had successfully blocked her from his mind. They’d had a good fuck, and they’d both highly enjoyed it. There didn’t need to be a full analysis of the event.

Jon had left the club a few hours before after he’d finished his beer. And after Joshua had commented about Ivy, there’d been no further mention of that woman to distract him. Until Lily called practically in tears.

And here things had been moving in a promising direction—or so he’d thought. The last he’d heard, Lily was regaining back some of her simple freedoms. Taking the bus, talking without getting interrogated, making her own schedule. She was submissive to one person only and didn’t take well to being controlled by anyone else, even her sister.

But after Lily explained her and Ivy’s most recent argument, Jon realized there was still a ways to go.

He suggested their next session include Ivy; it was time. Lily declined. She still wasn’t ready for that. She pleaded for Jon to try once more to get through to her, as a professional. She said whatever he’d done before had started to work, so could he keep trying?

He’d ended up accepting her request, then spent the next hour raking his hands through his hair and staring at the ceiling. This entire situation had become complicated as fuck. He and Ivy did not do well together when their mouths were involved. Unless they were used for....

Fuck. He wanted to bang his head on the wall. This was going to make him insane. He could not fuck her again. They had no business being in the same room together. They could barely get through a conversation without some type of catastrophe. How was he supposed to talk to her again? And how was he supposed to even look at her again and not want to fuck her?

He felt for his phone in the dark, palming it off the end table. He tapped the screen, scrolled through his contacts, and hit call.

“Hello.” Soft. Groggy.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Yes. Who is this?”

“Jon.”

“Jonathan,” she said, still disoriented. He heard some shuffling and the creak of a bed.

“Jon,” he corrected, “and I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be sleeping already.”

“Normally I’m not. It’s just been a rough day.” She sounded more coherent. There was another squeak when she must have shifted again. He found himself wondering what kind of bed she slept in, what color sheets, how many pillows she used. Were the cases dark to conceal her hair or light to emphasize it?

“I heard about your day, at least part of it. Lily called me earlier and told me you two got into it.”

“God, it sucked.” She swallowed, and the sound temporarily distracted him. “Excuse me. I always keep water by my bed because I’m thirsty when I wake up.” Another gulp and his dick started waking up as well. What the fuck?

“I don’t know what to do, Jon.” A clunk and more squeaks echoed through the phone. “I can’t get through to her, and I worry so much.”

“When are you free next?”

“What?”

“When is the first chance you have some time available?”

“Um... Tuesday after four, I think. Why?”

“Let’s work on a solution together. Come over and I’ll make you an early dinner.”

He stood up, waiting for her reply. Adjusting his pants, he cursed silently. He was doing this for Lily, he reminded himself. He was not looking forward to having Calamity Ivy in his house again. Really.

“About the other day....” she said.

“Yes.” Jon paced around the room.

“Well, it was... I don’t know—a spur-of-the-moment thing?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

More swallowing. “It’s just that... we shouldn’t place too much seriousness into what happened between us. It’d be best to just focus on Lily and her situation.”

“I agree.”

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