Page 47 of Overachiever
Now, I’m sure most people have had those moments after beating off where you feel a bit horrified at the porn you were watching or the thoughts in your head seconds ago. None of mine compare to this. Nothing screams post orgasm regret like sitting naked in a motel room with my eye throbbing from my fist, lube smeared on my cheek and a fake pussy still attached to my cock.
It’s not my proudest moment.
Lesson learned. Too much lube is a thing.
By the time I’ve cleaned up, my eye is slightly swollen and a faint purple smear has appeared underneath. It’s not bad and shouldn’t take long to heal, but it’s definitely noticeable. I’m going to have to think of a story because there’s no way I’m telling anyone I punched myself in the eye while jacking off.
It killed any thought of a round two, and I spend the rest of the night watching stupid videos on my phone while eating my weight in Chinese food.
Graham gets back early the next morning and blinks at the sight of me. “I really can’t leave you alone, can I? What happened?”
“Ha!” I throw aside the covers, and slide to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing my face. “Be glad you weren’t here. I fought off three guys. Huge guys. You would’ve been terrified. They climbed in the window and tried to rob us, but uh-uh, I wasn’t taking that shit. Taught them all a lesson and sent them running away begging for mercy.”
Unfazed, he sits at the small table. “Did you hit it on the bathroom door?”
That would’ve been an easy excuse. “Of course not. I fell out of bed and banged it on the nightstand.” Yeah, I’m lying to my friend because this story, I’ll take to the grave.
Chapter Sixteen
Remee
I’m not used to doubting myself. Once I make a decision, I stick to it and follow through, but I keep second guessing myself when it comes to Owen. Have I made a mistake or is it my broken heart begging me to reconsider?
The two weeks since I’ve been back have been long and miserable. I don’t even have school or work to distract me. Kelly, Zara, and Serena have been so supportive, but I know they all think I’m wrong.
It’s a conversation I have with Zara—and a doped up Marty to a lesser extent—that really starts to put things into perspective. Marty’s leg wasn’t healing properly, and he ended up having to have surgery to reset it. We’ve been taking turns staying with him to help. Today it’s me and Zara since we had to get him from the hospital, and it takes both of us to move him around.
Once we get him settled with his cast wrapped leg propped in front of him, we both sit on the end of his bed.
“Two chicks in my bed. Awesome,” he says.
“I will slap your cast,” Zara threatens, pointing at him.
Marty grins at me. “I thought Remee was the dom of the group.”
Poor Owen is never going to live down what they walked in on. The thought of him deepens the ache in my chest, and Zara puts her hand on mine. “You okay?”
“I miss him. And I also dread him coming back next week.”
“The guy’s crazy about you,” Marty volunteers. “Every time we drink, all we hear is Remee this and Remee that. He’s probably driving poor Graham insane.”
“Every time you drink? You only saw him for two days,” I point out.
“Nah, I mean before you two left. Can’t believe he finally made his move.”
Zara gives him a threatening look, and he shrugs. “I need a nap.”
We leave him to get some rest, and sit in the living room. After a few moments, I shake my head. “He liked me before. I thought it was just…you know…the convenience of us being in a room together.”
“You could lock me in a room with Marty for a year, and I’d never have the urge to touch him,” Zara says.
“You’d be all over me!” Marty calls from the bedroom.
“Go to sleep and stop creeping on our conversation or I’ll break your other leg!” she yells back.
“You think I’m wrong, don’t you?” I ask.
Zara sits back. “I’d never judge who someone else should be with. That’s between you two, but I think you’re limiting yourself unnecessarily. You’re strong and independent. You know I’m all about female empowerment, but I don’t think that means you have to be alone until some arbitrary line is crossed. Whether it’s a certain degree or job or whatever. If you were happier alone, I’d say go for it, but you don’t seem happy, Remee.”
