Oh well.
I can find another one like her. There was a giant list of names to scroll through. And maybe I will. Maybe they’ll go easy on me and let me learn on them while they learn on me. Surely, there has to be someone else.
As I start to drift off, I keep coming back to the same idea. I don’t want to find someone else. Now that the shock has worn off, I see Maggie in a different light. That low-cut neckline with that fucking phenomenal cleavage. Her hips filling out the dress and the way she felt pressed against my cock.
It was not the same woman who showed up to my dad’s party, looking like a virgin. Knowing Maggie has a sexy, dark side makes it that much hotter. I’ve never imagined what she might taste like before, but I sure as fuck am now. I want to know the sounds she makes while I tongue-fuck her. I wonder what she would make me do, how she would use me to get herself off. I imagine her tying me up, hurting me, praising me.
Now these are thoughts to jack off to.
But for some reason, I don’t. I could easily reach under the sheets and relieve the pressure that’s been building since I saw her across the room tonight, but I don’t want to. A quiet voice inside is keeping me from my favorite indulgence. And it’s a voice I want to obey.
The next morning, I’m in my car sitting outside Maggie’s house with the sole purpose of apologizing since she’s not responding to my messages on the Salacious app. My guess is that she deleted it. But I can’t just leave things the way we did last night.
As I walk up the drive toward the front door, I keep rehearsing my apology. Even though I know there is so much more I want to say. I’m not even sure why I think I need to apologize, but something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry that happened and I hope you’re okay’ sounds good enough.
But to be clear, I’m not entirely sorry it happened. It was still hot as fuck, and I can’t get the memory of her tight pussy pulsing around my fingers out of my head.
I’m still thinking about it as I press the doorbell and still thinking about it when she opens the door, staring at me in shock.
“Beau,” she says sternly. Her giant gray dog stands calmly by her side, but she quickly sends him away, and he listens, obediently taking his place on the couch.
After last night, I’m seeing Maggie very differently, my eyes studying her as if this is the first time we’ve met. Never before noticing the sharp line of her lips, the sexy button shape of her nose, the innocence of her large blue eyes, the delicate softness of her pale skin. My eyes trail down to the spot just below her throat, that little divot between her collarbones, and my fingers itch to reach out and touch it.
Instead, I force myself to swallow and look up at her. “I just came to apologize for last night.”
“Last night didn’t happen,” she replies with confidence.
And for some reason that bothers me. Sure, it’d be easy to pretend the whole thing was just a glitch in the matrix and we can go back to our normal lives, but with the way I can’t get her out of my head, that’s going to be easier said than done.
I don’t like her pretending it didn’t happen. I don’t like knowing it’s that easy for her to forget.
When my gaze connects with hers, intensity burns between us, and it’s so strange to feel a fire where there was none before—at least not before last night.
“But it did happen,” I reply in a low mumble.
“According to us, sure. But as far as everyone else is concerned, nothing happened.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling somewhat defeated. I should just leave it at that. I apologized, sort of. Now I need to let it go.
But I can’t.
“Well, according to us,” I say, emphasizing that word, “it was pretty fucking amazing.”