Page 56 of Discord
But I can’t leave him.He was taking away the choice of leaving him, but everything else could remain in our relationship.
I exhaled a sardonic huff at the wheels turning in my head. Was he right? I was already hiding my relationship. I only had to continue the course and keep lying to Raven. After all, Brandon made a good point by re-introducing me to Asher. He hadn’t taken over the company but needed to defend himself against Milo should the need arrive. Could I blame him for wanting job security?
Brandon’s cutting gaze met mine. “This isn’t over, Mia. Far from it.” His words were absolute in their pronouncement. No doubts or hint of a tremor in his voice.
“But you burnt my book,” I murmured my last line of defense to somehow protect my heart because, sooner or later, he’d rip it out again.
Something akin to amusement played behind his eyes, but I was far from entertained. The book had meant something to me, and Brandon never so much as apologized for his actions.
“I mean it.” The words lacked the heat they should have possessed.
“I know you do.”
My pulse raced as Brandon stepped closer. I couldn’t hang on to my residual anger when he leaned in to bring his lips to mine. I had mentally prepared for one of his soul-consuming kisses but wasn’t ready for the gentle lips, moving possessively against mine, a desperate call to pour something meaningful inside me.
Mia
Everything turned significantly calmer followingthe Hampton trip. Brandon and I had each gained insight into the actions the other considered betrayal. To the best of my ability, I did attempt to keep my promise to Raven by reevaluating my relationship with Brandon after taking some time apart. However, with Brandon backing me into a corner, I didn’t feel weighed down by guilt for sleeping with the enemy. The choice had been taken away from me.
The conclusion was one I could live with because the things I suspected had all come to fruition, and despite the deception, I no longer had to look over my shoulders for Brandon’s next scheme. It’d be beyond stressful now that my online classes had officially commenced, along with my courses on makeup and skincare. My time was also divided between my renewed friendship with Chris Allen and FaceTime with Gabby. Raven and Reid opened up about Reid’s on-going recovery as well, and I finally started a dialect with Milo. It began with a text here and there until we were speaking regularly. He even invited me to the West Coast to spend the upcoming winter break in California.
For the time being, New York kept me plenty busy during the day with various pursuits, while the nights called for an entirely different routine. Every evening, I’d keep a lookout for a black Mustang. It was always parked in front of an unoccupied home or under a tree without an audience. I’d watch it like a junkie because of what it represented.
When that car was parked outside, it meant Brandon was done with his workday, and he’d pulled up the car for my benefit. He never called or texted to meet up. I had met him on the first night he drove here and stayed in the car—no lights, no sound, engine cut off. The practice had continued since in a non-verbal agreement.
I spent my first semester of college keeping my word to Raven by soul searching. Though I had continued my secret relationship with Brandon, I was adamant on not letting it take over my life again. I needed to figure shit out and stand on my own before we could be anything more. After all that transpired between us, I felt squeamish about resuming our previous routine at his apartment. Instead, we developed a new routine inside the dark of his car. My days were filled with books and new projects, waiting for the dark to arrive. Just the sight of his car had started to make me salivate like Pavlov’s dog.
A criminal in my own home, I’d walk outside in an inconspicuous black hoodie, one that would draw out a look of, “Seriously?”from Brandon. It’d be quickly replaced by his hand on my nape, pulling me in for a kiss that reminded me of the word yearning.Soft and slow, yet firm with demand.
Car sex allowed limited options of either straddling him on the driver’s seat or missionary in the back. Yet it never got boring. I’d let his dirty words hit me between my legs, leaving me breathless and writhing under him, begging to be taken. The intensity exceeded by the day. The hair pulling, the labored breaths, the eyes burning into me despite the dark.
Generally, Bandon didn’t bother stripping, though he had me butt naked every time and without fail. It felt slightly unfair when he’d lift my shirt to reveal my breasts and pull my shorts down while he remained fully dressed. But when he’d throw me in the backseat, his mouth on me despite the minuscule space to stretch out, I’d file away the complaint.
He never sucked on my clit for my benefit but rather to quench his own desperate need, his dark fantasies. Or at least that’s how it came off because some days he wouldn’t stop long after I finished writhing under his hot mouth and long after the obscene sounds in the car had died down.
He’d always watch me like I was the only woman he had ever seen or the most beautiful one on this planet. It left me with equal parts of trepidation and a frenzied desire to please him.
I gave back with enthusiasm—my mouth on his cock or dripping lower to his balls—especially when it made him shudder so hard, it’d steal his breath away. If I straddled him, I’d lean my body back so his heated gaze would have access to every part of me. My bouncing tits as he fucked me, or the place we were connected, or my neck that he seemed obsessed with, and the wet trails dripping onto my thighs.
Afterward, he’d hold me, running his fingers lazily through my hair. Sweet kisses brushed over my face, too.
The layers underneath Brandon were softening once more and I wondered if this undoing might leave me with more than I had bargained for, just like before. Brandon was no longer leading with anger or punishing me for my “attempt” to free myself of him. I also understood his perspective and the need to protect himself, despite the betrayal he had orchestrated against Milo. I wasn’t entirely ready to trust him again, but I could now meet him halfway.
At the end of each night, he’d watch me sneak back into my house. A few minutes later, I’d return the favor from my window and watch him drive away. Every time, he’d slow down to sear my bedroom window with a heated gaze, leaving me hyperaware of his presence.
So close, yet so far away.
It was very Romeo-Juliet of us, except Brandon wasn’t the type to write me sonnets or ballad Shakespeare from under my balcony. In fact. he was the type to burn Shakespeare (and books) at the stake.
Yet, I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling and waiting for daybreak, so we could play this on repeat all over again.
* * *
Now that our cards were on the table, Brandon and I were less concerned with titles. Every so often, he’d badger me about going out to dinner or back to his apartment. I’d always respond with, “Not yet.”
I wasn’t ready to fully trust him with my heart yet. However, since our trip to the Hamptons, he hadn’t schemed against me, blackmailed me, or even rushed me into the things he wanted. The expectations between us had been made clear, so we generally avoided discussions of my family and kept our conversations light. I’d ask him what penis-shaped car he planned to buy to deal with his upcoming midlife crises. He’d take jabs at me about returning home before my babysitter wised up. Occasionally, I’d ask for real information, too. I’d often palm the tattoo etched on the side of his torso. “What’s this supposed to represent?”
He’d never answer. Instead, he’d stare at my fingers trailing a tattoo that didn’t resemble any living creature. More like a mix of a multitude of animals. It was the most confusing-looking thing I had seen.
