Page 8 of Our Sweet Revenge
With my free hand, I smacked his chest. “Calm down.” He didn’t, even when I smacked him harder.
The feeling of control rushed straight through my brain and left me dizzy like I had drunk an entire bottle of wine. I played this bound man like an instrument, holding inside me the power to drive him crazy with a simple twist of my fingers. I knew that I could make him feel more, so much more, once it wouldn’t just be my fingers penetrating him. It would be so effortless to slip in and claim him as mine.
I wasn’t going to last long enough to continue with my fantasy considering the pressure that was swiftly forming in the base of my cock.
Then my phone rang, yanking me back to reality. I felt I was waking up from a deep sleep. I sighed in frustration, although a part of me felt I might have dodged a bullet. I tilted my head toward my phone and saw Chris’s number blinking on my screen. It was late, so his secret party must have been over. I debated whether to answer but ignoring him might end up creating even more cracks in our fragile friendship.
I picked up the call. “Hi.”
“Hi, E. Is this a good time?”
I tucked my shrinking erection into my boxers. “I can talk.”
“Are you with someone? I can hear weird noises in the background.”
“What? Oh.” I jolted and hurried to mute the porn on my TV. “I’m here.”
“Okay. Listen, I’m sorry about earlier.”
“It’s cool.”
“Ethan, cut the crap. I hurt you.” It sounded overly dramatic when he put it like that, but it didn’t make the statement any less true.
“Yeah, I guess you did,” I said. “But it’s your birthday, so you should celebrate with whoever you want.”
“I wasn’t exactly celebrating.”
“I may not go out as much as I used to, but I can still spot a party.”
“It was a work event, to get to know upper management better now that I’ve become a Junior Partner. I didn’t want you to spend an entire evening talking about things you don’t care about.”
I snickered. “Yeah, grown-up conversations go way over my head these days.”
“Not what I meant.”
“Wait, you made partner?”
“Junior.”
“That’s huge! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I… well, I didn’t want it to come across like I’m rubbing it in.”
“Why would it… oh, I see.”
“I should have told you.”
I didn’t know whether he was talking about his promotion or his party.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like shit.”
I could hear in his voice that he meant it. And despite it all, the last thing I wanted was for Chris to feel bad on his birthday.
“I get it,” I said. “It was a work thing. I wouldn’t have invited me either if I were you.” Not true, but I wasn’t looking for a fight.
“I’m so glad you get it. And your card was great, and you remembered which wine I love, and you even drove all the way… fuck, I feel like such an asshole. Let me make it up to you.”
“You don’t need to—”