Page 38 of Mastered By Bliss

And again.

And then one more time.I give her orgasms until she’s begging me to stop.She’s sobbing, telling me she’s sorry, that it’s too much pleasure and we’ll talk next time instead of fucking.Then I give her another orgasm.

So I lied about fucking her slow.But I didn’t lie about sending a photo to Gage.She spreads her pussy lips so I can get a close-up of my come leaking out of her.I snap the pic and hitsend.

As soon as it’s done, Leah lets me clean her up.I leave her in the nightie because it’s too fucking sweet to take off of her, but I wrap her in a blanket and hold her on my lap.

I rub a hand up and down her back.“So talk to me.For real this time.You’re mad at Gage?”

She nods.“He’s avoiding me.”

“No, Leah?—”

“Yeah, he is.”She covers her face with her hands.“I called him because I figured stuff out.Sort of.I found this old diary, where I’m mad at Peter and saying I’m never getting married.Because that was what marriage looked like to me, you know?So dysfunctional.Toxic.And I realized that’s not how it has to be.Like, evenIcould maybe be happy someday.”

“You absolutely can.”I take her hands away from her face and kiss her fingertips.

“But it took me too long to figure it out, because Gage is done.”Her eyes fill with tears.“I think—he probably doesn’t want to be with me anymore, but he doesn’t know how to tell me.”

My heart aches for her.“No.That’s not the problem at all.I think he’s going through some shit.”

“What do you mean?”Her forehead wrinkles in confusion.“He’s going through some shit?How come I don’t know about this?”

I’m not sure how much to tell her, but at this point, Gage has hurt her.He never told me not to say anything.“Harvey Billings showed up at Low Vice last night.”

“He did?That fucking asshole.”She sounds angry, surprised.She sounds like she wants to sharpen a knife or ten.I’ve spent my life in fear of my sister—but maybe Leah is the real danger.

“Yeah.They talked.I don’t know what it was about.He changed afterward, Leah.His whole mood, his whole demeanor.”

“He talked to Billings.”She sighs.“I wish he’d talk to me.”

“He will, baby.He will.”

* * *

Gage

I slept at Low Vice.I didn’t even go to the separate rooms.One of them has a bed, but I didn’t use it.Instead, I slumped against my desk.

Now it’s Monday.I can’t do another day of this.It’s no way to exist, avoiding the girl I love, the guy I love her with, and our potential for happiness.

I sit up in my desk chair and turn on my phone.A notification is waiting for me—a text from Dmitri.I unlock the phone to see the message.No words.A photograph only.

Leah’s cunt, swollen and used.

They’re taunting me, trying to bring me back in the only way they know how.

I need to be there for them.I need to bebetterfor them.

A quick call to Chelsea, my therapist.Several hours later, I’m walking out of my emergency session.It cost triple the usual rate and I’m an emotional wreck afterward.But I keep hearing Chelsea’s questions: “Who are you helping by pulling back?Leah?And would she agree with thishelp?”

No, she wouldn’t.

“And do you think,” Chelsea asked, “that maybe Leah would want to help you, instead?”

She would.

I need to tell Leah everything.Dmitri, too.They have to know who I am, how it shaped me.I’d rather ignore it, shove it into a box and bury it in the back of my mind forever.But as the past two days have shown me, that’s impossible.The trauma comes back when I least expect it, and I’m forced to deal with it.

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