Page 76 of Choke

“Don’t be offended—they don’t have time for us either. However, they have very high expectations of my time when it comes to them all deciding it’s critical to play soccer, baseball, and tennis.” She’s making another drink as she speaks, “Speaking of, we have baseball tomorrow morning in Lakeland. Sorry.”

The look on her face suggests that’s a bad thing, but I’ve never been to Lakeland, so I’m not disappointed. Plus, Klaus plays baseball, and I love any excuse to embarrass the shit out of that kid. I completely forget that Aleks is even there, and it’s not until he clears his throat loudly that we turn to face him. He has the same crystal blue eyes each other their boys possess. His short blonde hair is styled, and he wears a golf shirt and shorts.

“Please continue as if I don’t exist,” he deadpans.

Jules moves around the island and wraps her arms around his neck, planting a light kiss on his cheek before whispering, “Shut up and go out with your friends.”

He laughs and slaps her ass, then replies, “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

He’s grabbing his keys and heading out the door before we can say another word.

“We won’t see him again today. I have new books; we can read, drink, talk, whatever.”

Reading, always with the reading. Her suggestions sound perfect, and for the first time in weeks, my shoulders relax, and I feel a lightness as if everything with Adrian and the hockey game were a dream. It’s only when we say good night, and I retire to the guest room that I feel my chest tighten and the anxiety return.

I should have told him I was leaving.

The thought is so absurd I don’t owe him an explanation. I don’t have his phone number, and messaging him on Instagram would have meant admitting I have his Instagram; it’s not an option. When I lie down, my thoughts turn to the other night, to him standing in front of me while my hands were bound, and he brought me to the edge again and again. Rolling over, I rub my thighs together and feel a strum of pleasure that runs from my clit, up my stomach.

With my hand on my breasts, rolling my nipple between my thumb and forefinger, the needy feeling between my legs intensifies. I still haven’t remedied the destruction he created. I continue down my body—jerking off in my friend’s house wasn’t on my bingo card, but at this moment, I believe I could combust. That aside, being commanded by aman not to come has my Oppositional Defiant Disorder screaming to prove a point.

I slide my hand under my panties, and I touch myself, and the sensation is unlike any I’ve felt when touching myself. I’m instantly so close, but also an ocean away, and a sense of guilt and dread overtakes me.

Obey him.

The thought slithers through my brain before I can stop it. My hand jerks away like I’ve been burned, and my heart slams into my ribs.

Obey him? No. No fucking way.

Standing, I head to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face a few times before giving up. I start the shower and step into the freezing stream in my T-shirt and undies. I half expect my skin to sizzle from the water, and my head spins when I realize he’s done it.

He’s broken me.

I brace my hands against the tile, my breaths coming in sharp bursts. My chest tightens, and my stomach clenches. I couldn’t possibly get myself off right now, not because I’m a guest in my friend’s home, but because he told me not to without his permission.

God damn it.

When I step out of the shower, I look into the mirror. My eyes look foreign—like they belong to someone else, tired and sad. My wet shirt clings to my body, and, for the first time, I notice that I’ve lost weight. My ribs are somewhat visible through the now-sheer fabric. I strip out of the wet clothes, toss them into the shower, and wrap a towel around my body, heading back to the bedroom.

There’s no spark or desire when I lie down this time, only the cool sheets against my overheated skin. No spark. No pulse of need. Just emptiness.

Loneliness.

Free Fall

Lex

A crash jolts me awake, my heart hammering. I bolt upright, ears straining for any sign of what just happened.

Is someone breaking in?

Somewhere between convincing myself that we are about to be the victims of a home invasion and a murderer, I register the sound of men laughing coming from elsewhere in the house. The clock on the nightstand says it’s just after 1 am, and I’m tired and instantly annoyed. Aleks had left earlier and not returned before we retired to bed, and he must’ve invited his friends back after they finished golf and whatever else they had been up to.

I listen for a few minutes, my irritation morphing slightly; they sound drunk and silly. There’s no way I am getting back to sleep while they are here; they’re so loud. At this volume, they will wake the entire house. Rising from the bed, I wander to the dresser and look at my reflection. My hair dried from the impromptu cold shower, falling in soft waves down my back and below the waistband of the sleep shorts I packed only because I couldn’t wander in undies.

I slip into the bathroom outside my room, brush my teeth, and clip my hair half up. Aleks is a good-looking guy, and I have to assume—hope—his friends are also attractive. I need the distraction. My stomach fills with tiny butterflies as my nerves kick in over walking into a group of men I don’t know. I straighten and lift my chin, reminding myself to appear casual and friendly.

The distance from the guest room to the kitchen, where it sounds like they are, is short, and I count roughly five men when I approach,all in a version of golf attire. The island is covered in empty beer cans and bottles. A tall man with skin that looks like a gorgeous blend of coffee and honey notices me first and smiles brightly; he seems a little older, in his mid to late thirties. I return the smile, nervously wrapping one arm around my waist while continuing toward the kitchen.

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