Page 2 of Mostly My Girlfriend
I pursed my lips. It was a trap. Ethan would never say goodbye. Would he?
He was the addiction I wasn’t going to be able to beat. The habit I would never be able to end. I was worse than my brother John in that regard. He tried to get sober.
My attempts at freeing myself from Ethan had been feeble at best. At the first rush of emotion, I backslid.
I put the bottle down and turned the lock. I opened the door and Ethan stood on the other side looking as wrecked as I felt.
“We’re not done, Julia. We haven’t even scratched the surface of us.”
I picked up my wine and made my way to the living room. “This is the part where I say, if you really cared about me, you would let me go.”
“This is the part where I tell you, you’re full of shit. You don’t want me to let you go.”
Because I was addicted to him, but that wasn’t healthy.
“You’re wrong.”
“We need more time with Carol. We need to work through more of our shit.”
I shook my head. “The deal was for an hour.”
“When have you ever known me not to want to renegotiate terms?”
That much was true. Ethan never settled for the deal on the table. He always wanted more. And because I was a sucker, he would probably win. Only I didn’t really understand anymore what winning looked like. At least for me.
I’ve been in love with Julia for a very long time…
I took a pull on the bottle, hating the fact that I wasn’t drunk enough yet. “I’m not going back, and you can’t make me.”
He looked at me as if he knew what I said was bullshit.
“Then we really are done?” he asked.
I nodded. Done and done. Finished. No more. And I was super happy about that.
“Okay,” he said, slowly walking toward me. “Then at least let me have you one last time. We’ll call it official break-up sex.”
My heart started beating more heavily and I could feel myself get wet between my legs. I gulped. “I don’t think…”
He dropped the ridiculously expensive leather coat he’d been wearing on the floor. I knew how expensive it was because I bought it for him as a Christmas present six years ago. It was the first time, after paying him back for my family’s farm, that I’d made an indulgent purchase. It probably said something that the purchase had been for him.
Next, he pulled off his shirt. Then he kicked off his leather boots. I’d ordered those from Italy for him one year.
I should have stopped him when he stripped out of his jeans and boxers, but I didn’t. Instead I just sat there on the couch, wearing my tank top and hipster shorts, hugging my bottle of wine, while I stared at a naked Ethan who was very hard.
There hadn’t been a lot of lovers in my life. Work, I supposed, had been my most demanding lover of all. So I didn’t know what it was, in particular, about Ethan’s lean body that I always found so compelling. He was hard everywhere. His biceps, his chest, his hips, his dick.
Even his ass was tight, and it thrilled me, like no other body had ever done.
Or maybe that was Ethan.
He walked to the couch and pulled the wine bottle out of my arms.
“Get naked, Jules.”
Pretty sure that was a bad idea. The last time we’d done this he left me for three months afterward.
“You know how often I got myself off to that night?” he asked me, even as he was pushing me to lie back while he covered me with his hard, naked body. God he felt good.
