9. Reed

Chapter nine

Reed

By the time I wake, the midmorning sun shines through the gap in the curtains, making my head throb. The sheets are cold where Petra warmed them all night, but her lingering scent of sweets and oranges tugs at me. It’s so familiar, and though the memory is fuzzy, it aches to be rediscovered. “Petra?” I wait, holding my breath, but there’s no rustle of movement in the other room.

I didn’t see her coming. Didn’t see any of last night coming. How did I go from being racked with guilt to aching to hold her? So much for swearing off sleepovers. She curled into herself at the mention of going home and lost the colorful pink in her cheeks. I couldn’t bear for it to go.

It was supposed to be just for her, but she’s what I needed in the dark. For a few hours, I was free.

My stomach protests as I drag myself into the kitchen, searching for water. I blink blearily at a piece of paper next to the flowers she left on the counter. Upon reading it, I swing from bewildered to annoyed. Enjoy my trip? The hell, Petra? She didn’t ask me to call her. Unless I misconstrued everything, she’s interested in me too. Petra is proof that not all fans are crazy. There are women who see the difference between who I am and what I do. It was miraculous that I felt safe enough to offer to share my bed. I broke my no sleepovers rule for her, and being brushed aside after being vulnerable irks me beyond reason.

Ridiculously, her dismissal makes her even more appealing. I bring the note to bed with me, deciphering her subtext. When I needed it most . For the second time, her words mirror those inside me. I didn’t know it, but I needed to be held just as much. Sex is a commodity right now, but she’s not buying or selling.

Ignoring all notifications from my social media, I download my old dating apps and change my location to Swift River. I swipe through photos, and I’m both confused and relieved when none of them are Petra.

The urge to turn my night with her into a tangible thing is undeniable. I’ve had zero desire for sex since that God awful day, but Petra sets me at ease. Her burning eyes—the sparks that fly when we touch—bring my long months of celibacy to an agonizing point. I pull out my laptop and start my first erotic script in ages.

I expect writing to be slow and painful, but the words pour out of me in a torrent. Instead of a faceless subject, it’s Petra that slowly strips off her clothes. She sits, naked and trembling, at a dinner table.

She’s got a daddy kink? I can work with that.

“You waited for me?” I ask as I walk through the door and set down my bag. “Aren’t you hungry, precious? You should be, since you spent all afternoon cooking for me. My good girl.”

“I enjoy taking care of you.”

I kiss her shoulder, and her little whimper sets my blood simmering. “I don’t see a dessert. Didn’t you make one for me, precious?”

Her doe eyes shine as she frowns. I set her up for this, and she knows it. “I didn’t. I followed your instructions, but I didn’t see a—I’m sorry, sir.”

“Come here. Over my lap.” I sit and spread my legs, anticipating the delicious feeling of her soft curves over them. She lowers herself down, straddling my thigh. Her breasts brush against my chest, and her silky hair tickles my face. “No, precious. You know what I meant. I want you with your gorgeous ass in the air. Hands behind your back.”

She steadies her hands on my shoulders instead. A smile lights up her eyes, though she keeps it tucked in the corners of her full lips as she grinds against mine.

“You want to play it that way?” I threaten, drawing her wrists behind her to put her stunning, full tits on display. “Do you always have to be difficult, baby?”

“Aren’t I your precious?” She smirks, as if she knows I can’t hold on to the roleplay with her. Just like how I can’t hold on to my self-control, or my DK mask. I pull her up, asserting control, and yank her to lay across my lap. Her breasts skim over my aching cock while her toes flex against the tile for balance.

In my hotel room, I slide my hand over my sweats and the firm bulge waiting for attention.

“You are, but I’m going to have to punish you, precious. Do you understand why?” She shakes her head, and my cock begs me to end the game and slide into the heat of her mouth. “Because you didn’t follow instructions. Two swats for disobedience, one for not bending over, and one for that cheeky little smile you tried to hide.” I pinch her hip, just hard enough that she squeals and laughs. “Now, count.”

I let my palm land on her rounded flesh, relishing the way the slap against her skin positively sings. The echo of it throbs inside me. She flexes and wiggles, searching for more.

“I said count. So disobedient tonight.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” But a giggle sits on the tip of her tongue. I come down harder this time, and her lips part on a moan. “Weren’t you going to punish me, sir?”

Back in my hotel room, I whip off my shirt, imagining the glide of her hair as it brushes my chest.

“Think you can handle everything I give you?”

“I know I can,” she says, but then she dissolves into giggles. She shakes as her forehead drops against my outer thigh. “How do you manage to take this so seriously?”

Alright, maybe she’s not into the scene. Her joy only makes it hotter. I slap her ass and haul her up. “You’re laughing at me, Petra?”

“No, sir,” she says, but it’s false innocence. I set her on the table and spread open her thighs, sinking to my knees. She clutches my shoulders with one hand and presses the other to her mouth, but she can’t hide her gasp.

“Where are your sweet giggles now?” I ask, leaning in for a kiss that’s wickedly delicious. “That’s right, baby, moan for me.”

I can’t take it anymore. I shove my laptop aside, reaching under my waistband to palm my aching cock. It’s easy to imagine her now that I know the sleekness of hair and the scent that clings to her and taunts me to lick it from her skin.

She spilled her secrets last night, and each one heated my blood. When her teeth tested her lower lip, my pulse pounded with the urge to press her into the cushions. In that moment, I wanted her. Needed her.

I move faster, squeeze tighter. My cock can’t decide if I want her lips on me, or to bury myself between her generous tits, or sink into her sweet pussy. I settle for her plush mouth, aching for her touch. The fire builds in me as she looks up with those woodland eyes. Her hands reach down to cup her breasts—

Lightning that crackles down my spine. My stomach tightens as pleasure flashes through me from scalp to heel in one perfect, hot bolt. My vision fades in and out as my hand pumps frantically and I come in hot spurts across my stomach.

I groan, sucking down air, as my legs give out. I flop back on the bed, hot, sweaty, and fucking sated . Damn. I don’t remember the last time getting off felt this good.

Guess I’m not leaving Swift River today.

I feel less hungover when I drop my clothes on the floor and step into the shower.

Petra. Jesus. If that’s what it feels like just imagining her… Granted, she said no sex with strangers, and I get that. Besides, finding pleasure again is an unexpected gift, and I’m grateful for it.

Unfortunately, my good mood only lasts as long as my shower, because I have a missed call from Amanda after I get dressed.

“Reed,” she says. Not hi , not Ree-Ree , and it sets me on edge.

“What’s wrong? ”

“You were right not to come back.” Amanda hesitates, quiet. “Kinley came by the house this morning. Manic maybe, or high on something. She lost her mind all over my front porch.”

Lead fills my stomach. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay—we’re all okay, we were at Mom’s. I saw it on the doorbell cam.” Still, her voice wavers.

“Thank God. I’m sorry, Amanda—”

“ You didn’t smash my pots. I’m not worried about me—I called the cops and they’re going to keep an eye on the house for a while.” She pauses. “It’s a blemish on her restraining order against me, not you. Are you reporting her when she contacts you?”

I grimace. “No.”

“Reed—”

I wish Kinley would fall off the face of the earth. My hackles raise, and the slithering and scratching across my chest makes me shudder.

“You want me to file a police report daily? They didn’t take me seriously before, and they won’t now.” No matter how much Amanda wants to believe the justice system can help, it can’t. I’m judged for my sex work. Throw in that I’m a male victim with a female abuser, and all the cards are stacked against me. “I’ll send you some money right now, and let me know how much more you need to replace anything. Did she break your windows?”

“Don’t send me money. I’m more worried about what she’ll do since she can’t find you. Where are you, anyway?”

“Swift River—about an hour from Portland.”

Amanda hums. “Small town? Aren’t you against those?”

“Yeah, to live,” I snort. Her bitterness shines through, even a thousand miles away. “It’s fine to visit. I’ll send you some money and call Kinley to tell her to lay off.”

“Don’t,” Amanda growls. “She wants that—wants to talk to you. We can handle it. I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well, I want you to be safe. Did they arrest her?”

“Couldn’t find her. But they issued a warrant for stalking across state lines and vandalism. ”

I nod. “If she shows up again, call 911 right away, and keep an eye on the girls. I’m sending you money right now. I love you.”

“You don’t need to,” Amanda protests, but I hang up anyway. My family relationships weren’t always strained, but Kinley pushed us to the brink, and now our edges are frayed. I became an anxious friend, brother, son. Behaving like a whole, healthy person became too difficult an act to keep up, so I withdrew from everyone but Amanda.

And now Petra, apparently.

I quickly send Amanda five hundred, though it’s not enough for what I’ve put her through. In an effort to regain some control, I call Isaac at Westside Real Estate. Kinley wants to trash Amanda’s porch? I’ll even the field. A house for a house.

“Isaac, how’s the staging going? I know I was wishy-washy for a while there, but I’m firmly set now. I want that house sold as soon as possible.”

“I’ve got an open house scheduled for Saturday. In this market, I’m anticipating offers above asking, maybe a cash offer if you want to close fast.”

“I do…but I don’t want to sell to a landlord. I want a family that’s going to live there.”

Isaac laughs. “Always a wildcard, Reed. I’ll be in touch with the first offer. Let me know when you’re ready to buy again. There’s a beautiful house I could hook you up with in San Diego County if you want a change of pace.”

It doesn’t sound terrible. San Diego is beach and sun, more laid back. Maybe I could afford a place with a pool if I chose further inland. “You know what? Yeah. Send me an email with ones at or below asking price for my house.”

“Done deal. I’ll be in touch.” Isaac hangs up, but my mind is still whirling. I can’t wait to be rid of that house and all the memories in it. The crawling sensation is back, and I want to scratch at my legs until they bleed. The itching lingers the entire time I answer emails and record commercial auditions from inside the closet, surrounded by pillows to muffle the outside noise. It’s all a bid at distraction, but eventually it works.

When the creeping across my skin finally eases up, I create a plan for the afternoon. It’s one thing to be persistent, it’s an entirely different thing to be a stalker. I don’t want Petra to have the anxiety that I do. The best way forward is confident and casual, and when I walk into the grocery store late that afternoon, I’m fairly certain I can pretend to be both.

Her manager spots me and winks. “Back again?”

“Hoping to see Petra. Is she working?” I ask, and Ray nods toward register four. “Thanks.”

I desperately need electrolytes to combat my hangover, and Petra might too. I snag two bottles and watch her work. In the bright lights, her dark hair has a red tint to it. She’s pulled half of it back, and the sleek, glossy texture is gone. Her curls fall just past her shoulders, much shorter than when it was straight.

It’s not long before she’s alone. There are dark smudges under her eyes as she closes them and rolls her shoulders back. I feel bad having kept her up all night, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

When I enter her line, her eyes catch mine. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” she blurts, then presses her lips tightly together.

“I’m staying another day.”

“Again?” she asks, but I’m not paying attention. Petra’s curls are natural—tight coils in some places and loose in others—causing her hair to ripple in the light. I reach out, unthinking, and tuck a spiral behind her ear before her hypnosis lets me go. She looks up at me, eyes wide. She’s so close that the sweetness of her skin is heady. I retreat, clearing my throat and the curious knot suddenly stuck there.

“I can work remotely when I want to, though it’s harder without a sound booth,” I say, rapping my knuckles on the conveyor belt—an anxious tick that gets away from me. “Turns out, I’m too interested to leave just yet.”

She snorts in disbelief. “I think Swift River is one of the least interesting places in America. ”

I smirk as I lean against the register. “Me too.”

A deep blush creeps up her cheeks. “You need to go home, Reed. Wherever that is.”

I don’t have a good answer for that.

“Let me take you out.” It’s a bad idea, a terrible idea, but I don’t take it back. On my last dinner out with a woman everything went to hell. But I’m committed to not letting our exes get the best of us. They don’t get to wreck us until we merely exist . “One date to show you that nunnery isn’t the way. That you still have power over your future.”

“My head still hurts from a conversation with you,” she admits with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t survive a date.”

“I won’t attempt to drink as much wine as you this time. C’mon, you can’t stay tucked away. You’re depriving some lonely guy out there from the girl of his dreams.”

She hesitates, and her keen eyes search my face. “Why do you care?”

My fingers tap at my thigh in an effort to stop myself from reaching for her. “You’re a genuinely kind person, and those often get taken advantage of and beaten down. They forget how to be compassionate. But you haven’t.”

“You’re kind, too.”

I shift under her attention. “Withhold judgment until you’ve known me longer.”

She sighs. “I’ve been wined and dined. I’m not missing out on anything.”

She’s a terrible liar. “You know that’s not true—I can see it in your face. A night of free food with no expectations. Where’s the downside?”

“You definitely have expectations.”

“I don’t,” I reassure her, ducking my head until she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “I enjoy teasing you—I love how easy it is to be around you—and I want to explore what you’re searching for in my scenes. But I don’t expect a damn thing from your body tonight. ”

She swallows hard but doesn’t look away. “Okay. But if we go to a restaurant everyone and their mom will know I’m on a date.”

I grin. Now that Petra’s agreed to the teasing, I don’t have to stop. “Cat’s out of the bag. I got your manager’s help yesterday, Chelsea’s at the flower shop, and that other clerk, Becca? She pried it out of me when she saw me hanging around outside with flowers last night.”

“Tina, too.” Petra huffs. “Fine. The whole town knows already. But I’m not off until eight.”

I chuckle as I pay for the drinks. My total could be a thousand dollars and I wouldn’t care. “Then I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I won’t be dressed nicely. I only have my work clothes. Again.”

I shrug, but only take one of the bottles Petra holds out to me. “That one is for you. And you’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”

“Thank you.” She frowns at me. “Is the whole night going to be full of this fake charm?”

I throw her a DK worthy wink and walk backward toward the exit. “Wait until you see some real charm.”

Her little sigh is the best thing I’ve heard all day. “Somehow that’s even more terrifying.”