Page 30 of On a Fault Line

They can all fuck off.

Collins rubs his hands over my back and shoulders, causing goose bumps to form on my skin. It feels so good to be in his arms, sated and cared for—just like I’ve always imagined a healthy sex life would be.

He is spoiling me with all his attention, and I’m soaking it up like a thirsty sponge.

With his mouth at my ear, he growls, “Ready for round two?”

And just like that, I revel in his ability to fulfill his contractual vow to keep me utterly and undoubtedly satisfied.

Between these walls I find contentment.

But it’s not about the place. It’s about the person.

* * *

“Remind me why we are doing this again,” Collins states, putting on real clothes for the first time in days.

We’ve really been rocking the lounge clothes lately, and I almost forget what it feels like to wear undergarments that are meant to be functional and not meant to tease.

Maybe he won’t rip these from my pussy, and I can enjoy them for more than twenty minutes.

Time will tell…

I turn to look at him, as if he should already understand that I don’t have much of a choice. “It’s called work, Collins. I need to check in at work.”

“That’s what texting is for.”

I roll my eyes. “If you don’t want to come out into the world with me, then just stay here. I can get there myself.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then stop being a sourpuss and enjoy the change in scenery.”

“Fine. But I would like warning prior to you doing photoshoots so I can mentally prepare.”

I finish putting on my pink pencil skirt and off-the-shoulder white top. “I’m not modeling today. That actually hasn’t even started yet.”

When his brows furrow, I realize that he isn’t aware that my duties have shifted.

“I’m actually working with the marketing branch of the company.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

My smile can’t be contained. “Very much so.”

“That’s awesome, Princess. I’m very happy for you.”

“I mean, I still want to try modeling again if just to rewrite my narrative and heal some of that”—I pause—“trauma.”

“And you will. You just need to give yourself time.”

But time keeps running out. It feels like a ticking time bomb ready to go off, and each day that passes brings us closer to that deadline.

I slip on my white sandals with the light-pink flower embellishment and attach a fun heart bracelet around my ankle to complete my look.

Glancing at Collins who is in a charcoal grey button-down and designer jeans, I admire my view. “You look really good.”

His smile is genuine. “We can stay here and fuck each other out of these clothes, you know.”

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