Page 8 of Good Girl
Searching for a clock, I wince when I see that it’s well past the time when I’m supposed to be at work. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to be in as soon as?—”
“It’s fine,” he cuts me off. “Are you okay?” His voice sounds strained, and I can hear him moving around. Am I okay? I’m sore all over, and it just now hits me that before last night, I’d never had an orgasm from penetration.
After the mind-blowing sex, I drank nearly the entire complimentary bar. Wait,was it complimentary?
“Poppy?”
“Yes,” I squeak, a little shame squeezing my insides like a python over taking a stranger to bed and being late for work because of it.
“You don’t remember calling me last night, do you?”
Chills chase up my spine, and my stomach drops. I remember drinking with … what was his name? And texting Josh a tirade consisting mainly of, “Cousin fucker and Taylor traitor.”And I did call someone…
Vision tunneling, a sheet of sweat breaks across my forehead, my bare feet pad back-and-forth across the room. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He clears his throat. “Take the day off to rest so you can make sure you're up to coming to the party tonight. I don’t think I can cope with Linda on my own.”
A laugh breaks my mortification, and I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I’ll be there, sir.” A breathy sigh comes down the line before he says, bye and hangs up. My stomach clenches. The wordsirhas a whole new meaning now.
Last night was reckless.
When I got to the hotel closest to work, they had no rooms left, but the manager told me to wait in the bar while she tried to rearrange things to accommodate me. When the stupidly good-looking man came over, with his dark eyes and sharp jawline slipping me his key, I was shocked. I hadn’t realized that the price of them finding me a room was servicing whoever that man was.
If I hadn’t drunk so much after walking in on Josh the way I did, I would have never done something so crude, careless, and life altering. When he commanded me and told me he was going to use me, a burning need to get some revenge, get something I’ve been deprived of, overtook all thought and reason. I just went with it. Holy shit, was it worth it.
Being with Josh, our sex was always timid, clean. A means to an end. Before last night, I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted anything, but timid. I like being spread wide, my skin on fire, hands, tongue, and teeth exploring and bruising all my sensitive places. He worshipped my body like I was a goddess, the way I always imagined Mr. Carter would fuck.
My mom would die if she found out that sex could be this way. She’d tell me to repent, threatening me with repercussions.“The angels are always watching, Poppy.”Well, let them. If they come for me, they’ll find me on my knees, worshiping in a new way.
I sigh, peering down at my naked body, marked with bruises, before looking back down the hall. Feeling bold, I strut back to the room, determined to leave here with one more orgasm under my belt.
Rounding the doorframe, I deflate. The bed is empty, and there’s no sound coming from the bathroom—the door ajar and the light off.
“Hello?” I call out and frown. I remember him stripping off his clothes, but there aren’t any lying around. My chest constricts as disappointment floods my bloodstream. He’s gone. No goodbye, no thanks for the fucking.
My eyes dart to something on the bedside table. I rush over, dying inside when I clock what it is… It’s a stack of cash.
No…
I hate that I have to return to our apartment with my thoughts so jumbled and humiliation living rent-free inside my head, chest, and limbs.
I’d stayed at the hotel, soaking in my shame as long as possible, but I got kicked out of the room at three.
Unlocking the door to the apartment, I sigh in relief when there’s no one else home. I rush through a shower then blow dry my dirty blonde hair, loving the lighter strands I had put in to brighten my face.
Packing a few things in an overnight bag, I continue calling all the local hotels to see if any have availability, but with it being so close to Christmas, everything’s booked full.
I roll my eyes at all the missed calls and text messages from Josh, begging me not to tell anyone back home what happened with Eric.
I angrily swipe away the tears burning my eyes. I should be the one staying in the apartment, not Josh, but I can’t afford the rent alone. With the promise we would put down money on a house when we returned home, I’d been filling his savings account with whatever I earned.
I jolt at the sound of a door unlocking, swiping up my outfit for tonight and shoving it in my overnight duffle.
“You’re back,” Eric announces when I come out of the bedroom with my bag.
Shock at seeing him again has hairs raising on my neck. “Should you still be here?” I spit. The brass balls on these two is next level.
Wincing, he puts down the grocery bag he’s holding. “I’m sorry about everything—” He attempts an apology, but I hold a hand up to stop him. My skin itches, being in this apartment with him, using that soft tone and pity bleeding in his eyes.
“How long has this been going on?”
