A Therapeutic Relationship, Chapter Six - Sex Stories

A Therapeutic Relationship, Chapter Six

... her eyes narrow, her breath hot against his face.

“Only if you promise to send me something back.”

“I promise.” He slipped a finger inside, her mouth gaping open, her hips levitating off the bed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The tone of her voice turned from pleasure to panic, her hand tapping his wrist, signaling him to get his hand out of her pants.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Bathroom,” she said, scrambling to climb over him. “Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.” She somehow managed to flop over on the other side of the bed and land on her feet, leaving his ribs and his shins a little worse for wear.

“Leave your pants off while you’re in there,” he called out to her as she tiptoed her way to her destination at a brisk pace. “My hand is starting to cramp up.”

“I will.”

He heard the toilet seat being lifted up and the tinkling of liquids. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and checked his messages. Nothing. He opened the conversation between him and Kim and began typing a message.

“If you’re lucky, I might even…”

“Hmm?” He looked up to see her poking her head out from the corner of the hallway.

“Who are you texting?”

“Kimmy. I just wanted to...”

“No.” She charged toward the bed, hiking her pants back up and fastening them in place on the way. “No, no, no.” She snatched the phone from him and slammed it back down on the nightstand. “Don’t bring her into this. Not now. Not when it’s supposed to be just you and me.”

“I wasn’t. I just wanted to let ...

... her know...”

“I don’t care, Peter. You couldn’t wait until afterwards? Seriously?” Her gaze widened with frustration, disgust, and heartache. Peter knew how badly he had fucked up. What he didn’t know was how to fix it.

“I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean to...”

“Yeah, well, you did. And there’s no taking it back.”

Peter glanced at the closet just behind her, her shirtless back reflected in the mirror. He remembered all the clothes she had in there, neatly organized with his, and he realized that he would miss them if they were suddenly gone the next day.

At a loss as to what else to do, he stood up and started putting his clothes on, half of which were still on the bed, the other half crumpled on the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Going out, I guess.”

“Going out where?”

He shrugged. She let out a sigh.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“You can come with me, you can stay here, you can go back to your place. Whatever you want.”

She stood there and watched him get dressed, topless and unmoving, her arms folded under her breasts. It wasn’t until he started heading for the door, his keys in his hand, that she finally spoke up.

“You’re not gonna take your phone with you?”

He shook his head.

“No, I’m leaving it here. You can go through it if you want.”

“I’m not gonna go through it, Peter.”

“Do whatever you want,” he said, his hand resting on the doorknob. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I’m ...