Page 21 of See Me

My hands shake as I start my car. I give Enzo a half wave and fake smile, knowing he won’t pull away until I do. A small bubble of hope surfaces as I think maybe Luca is finishing up some paperwork and maybe, just maybe, he’ll forget to lock the deadbolt when he leaves. I scan the parking lot and find it completely empty. Maybe he parks out front? Realizing I have no idea what he drives, I go around the block and scrutinize the cars on the road. He wouldn’t drive anything compact, or fuel efficient. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. There aren’t any big trucks parked, which is somehow all I picture himdriving. There’s an entrance to a parking garage. Maybe as a business owner he has access to that and doesn’t park on the street.

My insides clench up when I realize if that’s the case he won’t be going out the back door again tonight.

The tiniest shred of self-preservation kicks in and I decide sacrificing some cash to park off the street is my best option. I pull into the garage and dig out some cash to feed into the machine. I weave around to the highest level and find a corner to park in. At least this way no one is likely to glance in as they pass. Or should I stay closer to an entrance to ward off the slicer and dicer running around?

Is this rock bottom? This feels like rock bottom.

I grip the steering wheel and lean my forehead against the sleek emblem. I don’t think you’re supposed to cry in a Range Rover. I’ve never seen anyone cry in a Range Rover. The tears come anyway and my sobs bounce around the small space.I give myself this moment. This night. I allow myself this one night to let go of it all. To let it bleed out. All of the pent-up anguish, all of the fake smiles. The lectures, the abandonment, the inadequacy. All of the fiery, sassy redhead bullshit.

I can’t always be her.Most of me isn’t her.

I wipe my tears and smear them all over the fine leather interior as I crawl to the backseat, tainting this fucking car, tainting all I have left. I know this is temporary, but dammit it hurts.

We don’t show emotion in my family, but I don’t have a family anymore.

EIGHT

PAVLOV WOULD NEVER

I closethe front door a little too hard for three a.m. and toss the keys on the table in the entryway. The soft pitter patter of tiny paws greets me as Tuesday bounds down the hallway and over the couch, impressing me that such a tiny thing can jump so high. She weaves in and out of my legs as I kick my shoes off, meowing— scolding me for forgetting her dinner.

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to be gone that long either.” I scoop her up and carry her to the kitchen pantry to retrieve her food. “Whoa, you’re getting heavy. I bet you’ve gained at least a few ounces since yesterday.” She digs her razor-sharp claws into my sleeve, and skin, and leaps to rest on my shoulder, rubbing her head along my neck and ear. I hiss atthe pain but still chuckle at her impatience. “It’s coming, it’s coming.”

I found her a few weeks ago circling the dumpster behind the bar, rooting for food. Poor thing was too small to get inside, way too young to be alone. With no sign of her mama or litter mates, I decided to bring her in for the night and take her to a shelter in the morning. The gray fluff slept on my shoulder with her little nose buried in my neck and wiggled her way right into my life.

I set her down to devour her meal and head into the bathroom. I set the shower to scalding, becausepain, kick off my clothes and toss them in the hamper. The fact that my dick is hard already has me a little concerned. Do I jerk it too much in the shower? Did I Pavlov my dick?

I step under the spray and let the heat penetrate my muscles as I roll my neck and shoulders, trying to loosen the tension. After beating the hell out of the punching bag that looked like both Enzo and Tomi, this and only this, will ensure I can lift my arms tomorrow. Or today, whatever.

I wash quickly, with a cloth, no scrubby floofs for me, thanks. Resigned to the fact this boner isn’t going away and no way can I sleep with a kickstand, I take my cock in my hand and squeeze. I’m not going to admit that I went out and spent twenty minutes sniffing soaps in the girly aisle to find one that smells citrusy like her, but when I dump said soap in my hand, my cock jumps, and I groan deep in my chest. I squeeze and stroke from base to tip, slow and steady.

Her scent surrounds me, and I grow thicker, the head purple and angry. I tip my chin down and picture her on her knees while I stroke my tip along her glistening lips, open and waiting. Her tongue darts out and the velvety heat ignites an urgency. I brace a hand on the slick tile wall and thrust into her mouth. She takes me to the back of her throat and swallowsaround me, eyes watering. I grip the hair at the nape of her neck and pull her back until my cock falls out with an audible pop. I paint her lips with my precum and thrust back in until I hit the back of her throat. She gags on my cock, eyes squeezed shut.

Look at me when I fuck your mouth.

She opens her eyes, and her throat, and I thrust and pump into her hot mouth.

Good girl.

She rests her hand on my thighs and pushes back slightly.

Hands behind your back.

When she pulls her hands behind her, my cock jerks in her mouth, her compliance sending me over the edge. I groan and rest my forehead on the cool tile as streams of cum streak toward the drain.

I turn the water to a cooler temperature to slow my racing heart. I quickly dry off and crawl into bed, surrounded by her scent, with a tiny heartbeat thumping on my chest that isn’t hers.

NINE

LIKE THE FOURTH OF JULY

Because Knockout’sdoesn’t open until eleven a.m., I had to get creative this morning to snag a shower. I asked Cassie to breakfast, since Jess left town, and told her I was up late working on lesson plans.

A giant horse of a dog, Henry, comes through with the assist when he assaults my belly button before I am allowed entry into the place. I feign innocence and claim to have been too tired to coax myself into the shower and ask if she minds if I use theirs before we leave. An awkward silence follows, full of scrunched eyebrows and unasked questions. She agrees and while I should feel relieved I manage to pull one over on her, I feel ashamed for lying toa friend. A friend that would give me the shirt off her back if I asked.

I order something that will keep and pack half away for later, listening to her excited babble over her next gallery opening. I fake an interest, not that I don’t care, I’m just distracted.

I walk away with promises of more dates and my head hanging a little lower each time I manage to pull off this ruse.

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