Page 65 of For a Goode Time Call…
Buttocks, hips—I glanced down, and found fingerprints on my hipbones, around front, where he’d gripped me there, too. All over my hips and ass.
I giggled. Blushed.
What to tell Mom, though?
I left the bathroom, chewing on answers. She just waved a hand at me. “I’m an adult, Cassandra, and so are you. But I don’t need to knowanything.Not about that.”
I bit my lip, holding back laughter. Hysterical laughter—not hysterical in theOMG that comedian is hystericalsense, but in the literal, archaic, original sense of the word. Close to madness, inappropriate laughter,I can’t control what I’m feeling anymorekind of hysteria.
She looked at me, and was fighting laughter of her own. “Well, I only need to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’re okay with those bruises. That you bear them willingly.”
Ilikedthem. I liked knowing he’d marked me. They twinged a little, but only enough to remind me that they were there, and how I got them. I wanted more of them.
But I couldn’t say that to Mom. Shit, I wasn’t sure I could say that to Ink.
Because there was so much else tangled up in it.
Finally, I just sighed. “Yeah, I…yes.” Another sigh. “Yes, I’m okay with them. More than okay.”
She just smiled. “Okay, then. That’s all I need to know aboutthat.” A silence, as I dressed.
Jeans, tight and stretchy, ripped at the knees—putting them on hurt my bad leg. Everything hurt my leg, and I know Mom saw that, too. She didn’t miss a thing, dammit.
“You’re not doing your mobility stretches.”
I sighed, a sound more growl than sigh. “Don’t, Mom.”
“Or exercising.”
“No shit! Why do you think I’m gaining weight?”
“Cassie, you have to take care of—”
“What’s the fucking point?” I snapped. “Thereisno point. And that’s the point.”
“Cass.”
I hooked a bra on with the clasp at my belly, twisted it around, and shrugged into the straps, adjusting my tatas into the cups, and then pulled on a T-shirt.
“Where are you going, Cass?” She frowned at me. “It’s past midnight.”
I paused, glancing at the clock. “Then why the hell did you wake me up?”
She sighed. “Because you’ve been in bed for three days straight. I’ve come and gone over the past three days, and I’ve not seen you leave the bed even once. It was time.”
I nodded. “Well, you’re right. It’s time.”
“For what?”
“For me to do what I have to do.”
Mom tilted her head. “Which is what, honey?”
I sighed, rubbing my bad leg. “Fuck if I know, Mom,” I said. “Fuck if I know. But something. He deserves it.”
