Page 23 of Forbidden Fruit
I never planned on inviting Jade over, anyway. This isn’t my home, I don’t want to linger or act like it’s my place to do with as I wish. So why did I get so worked up? Goosebumps pebbles on my skin, and my heart is so loud in my chest, I fear it’ll jump out. Confrontation is always triggering for me, but it usually induces fear. Right now, it’s not fear coursing through my veins and I don’t know what to make of that.
Later that night, I’m tossing and turning in bed,again, molars grinding with frustration. I finally admit defeat, knowing sleep isn’t coming anytime soon and get up to find my suitcase so I can retrieve my purple wand.
Let it be charged.
There’s nothing like an orgasm to put me to sleep.
When I climb back into bed and remove my pyjama bottoms, I’m already wet. I circle my entrance with my fingers, easing them up to my clit, building arousal with slow and deliberate movements. Tension leaves my shoulders and I throw my head back, losing myself to my touch.
When I turn the vibrator on, I glide it over my breasts first, letting my body get accustomed to the sensation.
My back arches and a moan escapes my lips when the head reaches the apex of my thighs. I switch between putting it righton my clit and then to my swollen labia until I’m a writhing mess, ready to ignite.
The image of Mr Marquesi towering over me forms behind my closed eyelids. Except in my vision, he doesn’t stop at a safe distance away from me, but closes in on me until his breath dusts over my lips. I imagine his hand covering mine on the wand as he speaks, his voice sounding like sin. “Did you call me an asshole,zitella?”
Guilt and shame creep into my fantasy, but I couldn’t stop if I wanted. My body is like a tight string ready to snap and I hold my breath, my orgasm close by.
“Bad girls don’t get to come,zitella,” he says with the tiniest lift of his mouth.
My wand dies, and the vision fades.
“Nooo,” I whine and throw the indignant object back into the open suitcase.
I replace it with my fingers, but it’s no use. My clit is already buzzing with the vibrations of the toy and my hand won’t do. I turn my head and yell my frustration into the pillow as I give up.
Maybe it’s for the best. At least, I can say I didn’t come to thought of my boss whispering filthy things to my ears.
THIRTEEN
SUN HATS & SAND CASTLES
The only explanation I have for the chaos I’ve brought into my house is that I wasn’t thinking when I invited Vanessa to burrow deeper into our lives.
She’s been living in the pool house for two months and Anton and Livia have never been more difficult. I haven’t been able to go to the club on Sundays to relax. I’m too tired.
They simply refuse to go to bed every night, despite the yelling, the punishments, the bargaining. They’re missing their mum more with every day that passes. And she still hasn’t contacted me.
I know why I’m not looking for her. I’m too scared of her refusing to come back for them.
I love my children and would do anything to make them happy, but right now I’m the bad guy. The feeling that I’m failing them is crippling.
Every night, after I battle to get them to sleep, I sit in my office and either distract myself with more work or stare blankly at the wall. These are the worst nights. When nothing grabs my attention and only a dark pit of emptiness fills my chest and leaves me feeling nauseous and exhausted.
When this happens, I resist the urge to check if Vanessa is home by peeking through the sheer curtains of my office. I won’t let her become yet another distraction to my emptiness. I’m not that far gone yet. And she deserves better. She’s been in our lives for less than three months but it’s impossible to miss how she illuminates everything around her. How bright her smile is. How nurturing and warm she can be with the kids. Never with me, but it’s better this way. I can’t siphon away the life within her if I keep my distance.
She mentioned having people over once and a hot wave of green jealousy took over me. It’s not an emotion I have felt often. It was alien, exhilarating. And absolutely disproportionate and inapropriate. Yet, I often watch her front door. No one has visited her yet and I hate that I’m relieved. She should live her life to the fullest. But I can’t help but want to keep her close a little longer.
But today, I watch as Vanessa walks to her front door with her arms full of groceries. She leaves the door wide open and a few minutes later, I watch as she positions two chairs—one to sit on and one for her feet—still inside the house but right in the sun, and settles to read a book.
Iaman asshole. I told her I didn’t want her near us, and the patio behind the studio will be in the shade at this time of day. So she’s made a makeshift lounge chair inside instead of taking advantage of the space outside.
For my benefit.
To follow my stupid rules.
Maybe it’s for the best, since I can see her long legs in very tiny shorts and I don’t need to see my nanny in such an outfit.
“Babbu, can we go to the beach today?” Anton’s voice takes me out of my daydream and I look up at him, already in his swim shorts and carrying a plastic bucket and a bright blue shovel. Isigh and he smiles, shy yet mischievous, knowing I can’t say no to him.