Chapter Text
Gabi
The way she left was so unlike her. But then again, the update I shared was discouraging, to say the very least. But she knows that she could have talked to me. Why didn’t she talk to me—tell me what she’s really feeling? Or she could have just stayed. She didn’t even need to say anything. But now, I have no idea where she could have gone, what she might be doing, and then there’s Hugh. Presently, I can’t protect her from him, but I can and have enlisted Trent’s help in locating her.
Hey, Gabi. Come in.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry for troubling you—”
“No trouble at all. Nyla is my friend, too. I have alerted officers to be vigilant while on patrol. But, Gabi, I’m sure she’s fine.”
“You don’t understand. You didn’t see her face—her overall demeanor. She would always talk to me or we’d simply sit together, but this time she just… left.”
And there’s a predator out there gunning for her. And I’d rather her with me than within his reach. If only I could tell Trent as much.
*
Nyla
I can’t believe what I’d done. As if my emotions weren’t running high already. Gabi was right. I should have stayed home. On the drive home, I call her, and she answers almost immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Heading home. Meet me there? I'm ready to talk now.”
“I’ll be there.”
She isn’t too far behind when I reach my house. She hugs me tight when we get inside. She looks into my face and says:
“You had me so worried. Where did you go?”
“I drove around for a while, I stopped by this bar and bistro, and got a drink. One drink. I hardly finished it.”
“Okay... Good... Like I said, I was worried. I can’t fathom how difficult this whole thing is for you.”
I debate whether or not I should tell her about Christian, and the occurrence in the restroom. But, she’s my friend. We tell each other absolutely everything.
“I should have listened to you. I should have stayed my ass here, because something wound up happening.”
She stitches her eyebrows together. She seems nervous all of a sudden.
“What happened?”
“Christian… He happened to be at the bar, and I practically unloaded on this guy. But, to be fair, he did ask what was troubling me. And I cried on him. Literally. And... Well...”
She leans back and looks at me. I’m unsure if her expression indicates disappointment or curiosity. Before she can say anything, I follow up with:
“I kissed him. And I feel so guilty. Not just about having done it, but… I liked it. It goes back to my desire for normalcy, but I feel like garbage for it. I mean, Aaron’s out there feeling scared and alone, and here I am—”
“Being human. You’re going through something incredibly difficult. I don’t condone it, but it’s understandable. You’re hurting, and it's hard to be rational when you're in so much pain.”
“I guess.”
We sit quietly for a while. I feel incredibly uncomfortable. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking—what she might be thinking of me. She puts an arm around me and pulls me close. To lighten the mood, she asks:
“So… How was it? The kiss, I mean.”
I laugh and shake my head.
“I’m ashamed to say it, but he’s an excellent kisser.”
I cover my face with my hands. I am ashamed. I still can’t believe I allowed it to happen! I can’t believe that I want it to happen again. It brought me a kind of comfort. A comfort better than any book or drink can provide. But it wasn’t just the physical intimacy. He listened to me. He advised me. There was an emotional and intellectual intimacy between us, so it seemed. Which is why I hope I never see him again. And if I do, I worry about what could happen next.
*
Sir
I look forward to seeing Nyla again. The venue was less than ideal, but to have been able to touch her, feel her, and kiss her was like a dream. I didn’t want it to end, but I suppose I can understand her trepidation. I retire to my bed and stare up at the ceiling, playing what transpired over and over again in my head, and imagining what could have been, and what could be.
I look at the picture of her that sits by my bedside. Just the sight of her makes me feel a stirring deep inside. I slide a hand down my stomach and over the front of my boxer briefs. My breath catches in my throat as I think of Nyla touching me. I ache, and I need release. There's a kind of degradation I feel when I reach into my shorts, pulling out my cock. I had always thought I was above such decadence, but when I thrust firmly and slowly into my fist, I maintain the idea of having my cock buried inside her pussy, applying deep, heavy strokes, pleasing her, and taking great pleasure in doing so. That very same concept pushes me over the edge. The thoughts and anticipation consumes me.
My stomach tightens and my heart races. I feel as though I can’t catch my breath. Then, with a strained grunt, I spill my seed over my belly. I lie in bed with ragged breath. Becoming fully aware of what I'd just done, I scramble out of bed to cleanse myself. I feel some shame in my actions but, above all else, my actions breed lonesomeness. It makes me all the more determined to claim Nyla as my own, simply because we wouldn’t have to be lonely anymore, as we would have each other.