Page 4 of Good Girl
I bop my head in agreement, and before I can say anything else, he’s storming off and slamming his office door. The windows change color, making me wonder what he does in there now we can’t see him.
Rushing to my feet, I grab my purse and disappear down the corridor to the ladies’ restroom, ignoring Linda’s sneering at me on my way past. Collapsing against the counter, I run the tap to splash my face. Why is he so freaking hot? My cheeks are on fire, and the ache in my lower stomach makes me breathless. If Josh doesn’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to have to take the longest shower of my life.
Slipping my panties down my legs, I wince in embarrassment when I find the red lace fabric damp. How can one man do this without any provoking? My mind buzzes, remembering him saying,“Red lace?”and the realization settles in… He saw my panties. Now I’m even hornier. He’s like dopamine, causing a rush of giddiness to spike through me.
Blasting the dryer, I hold my panties under the heat to dry them. Josh doesn’t like it when I get too wet, he says it’s off-putting. I hate how self-conscious he makes me feel, and I don’t want us to be struggling this much—we’re not even married yet. He’s all I’ve ever known, claiming me in high school and taking my virginity after prom. He would visit me in college, but unlike me, Josh never seemed that interested in sex. It makes me wonder if he even finds me attractive. Perhaps he also feels obligated to get married because our families wish it so.
Shoving my panties back on, I slip my skirt down my legs and step out of it, putting it in my purse along with my sweater before I stare at myself in the mirror. I’d shopped at Victoria’s Secret for this red lace set, assured by the clerk that it would have my fiancé melting like butter in my hands. I work out and groom myself, I eat right and try hard to look good, so if he doesn’t throw me over the counter, the table, or the couch, I’m going to cry. There’s only so much masturbating a person can do. Even worse when it’s my boss I think about while doing it and not Josh.
I’d planned on surprising Josh tonight after work, but this is even better. It’s his day off, so he’ll be home all day. Pulling my phone out, I shoot him a text.
ME: Hey, how’s your day going?
Eric, his cousin from back home who has been staying with us, is out job hunting all day, so we’ll have the apartment to ourselves.
JOSH: Just at home, catching up on chores.
Not for long.
Slipping my coat on, I tighten the belt then preen my hair, applying red lipstick to match the underwear.
Walking through the office feels naughty, knowing my jacket is the only thing keeping my secret beneath it. I make my way to the parking garage then slip into my car, my heart already racing with anticipation.
Butterflies dance in my stomach as I head to our apartment door. I’ve decided I’m not going to shy away from what I want from Josh and just ask for it. Taking a deep breath, I open the front door, placing down my purse and opening my coat so my underwear is on full display.
Music is playing loudly, so I stupidly look around the hallway to ensure I entered the right apartment. Josh doesn’t like loud music, and he’s fussy about who he listens to. But I’m pretty sure Taylor Swift is playing through the apartment, and something is thumping in rhythm to it.
I did ask him to hang some pictures…
Moving through the apartment, my footsteps muted by the music, I round the corner into the kitchen and come to an abrupt halt. My jaw goes slack, and a sinking feeling spreads through my stomach like seawater flooding a ship.
No.
What?
My palm splays across my chest to prevent it from splitting in two. The thumping continues as Eric’s hips plow into the kitchen counter. Thud … thud … thud … thud … thud…
Josh, buck-ass naked, is fucking Eric’s ass like he’ll win a medal if he does it fast and hard enough. This can’t be happening. Maybe I endured more damage from my fall than I initially thought.
I feel like one of the baubles from the tree, scattering into a million pieces, the tiny shards too minuscule to ever fit back together. How can this be real? I swipe my eyes to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “Argh!” Eric screeches when he sees me. Josh doesn’t even notice me until I throw my keys onto the table, his attention flicking from the clatter to me, his eyes going wide.
Color drains from his face, and Eric pulls away from him, racing to use one of my Christmas-themed throw pillows from the couch to cover his thin, long pencil dick. I’ll never again be able to see Rudolph’s red nose without picturing this moment.
Gross.
Grabbing his phone with his free hand, Eric presses at the screen until the music cuts off. They were fucking to Taylor Swift. Josh bought me tickets to her concert for my birthday.
Bastard.
Traitorous fucking bastard.
And making Tay Tay an accomplice… Unforgivable. “You’re cousins?” I blurt, confusion muddling my brain.
“Through marriage,” Eric quickly defends, sweat coating his pasty skin. “Cousins through marriage.”
Oh, that’s all right, then!
“What are you doing home?” Josh has the audacity to ask, like I haven’t just caught him balls deep in his cousin.
