6. Lark

Chapter six

Lark

O h my god, what a dick! I’m fuming as I leave Rocket Dog, an unnatural grimace pulling at my lips.

I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to act all sweet and reserved, pretending he was shy. I bet he does this kind of shit all the time, but even that thought doesn’t dull the shock that some people can behave this way while in a relationship.

Tyler and I have our problems, plenty of them, in fact, but I’m pretty confident he’d never cheat on me.

An ache settles in the center of my chest. That gorgeous woman Gianni was with genuinely seemed to have not a single clue that her partner, someone she’s supposed to be able to trust, has been betraying her.

Obviously, I wouldn’t have said yes to him because I have a boyfriend, one I’m convinced will propose soon, but still . Just because I said no doesn’t mean someone else won’t accept his offer !

And now I have to attend these classes every week, knowing that he was planning on cheating on her if given the opportunity. Who does he think he is? Has he seen her? She’s stunning! Golden skin, honey-colored eyes, and long, dark waves.

To add insult to injury, she seemed so nice, and I want to be her friend already, which I can’t stand . She was so loving with that handsome old dog, Tank, she brought in.

***

Tiny and I trot home, my eyes feeling heavier with every step we take. We’re almost home when a dark cloud moves overhead, and it starts sprinkling around us.

My skin feels sticky and cold as we finish our trek home, nearly getting run over by some asshole in a sports car who blares his horn at us as we sprint across the wet crosswalk. Thankfully, we don’t live far from Rocket Dog, so these classes aren’t usually too difficult to make it to on weekends, regardless of how exhausted I am.

Our pets are like children. They rely on us to take care of all of their needs, and that includes emotional ones too. This means that even when I’ve been working overnight, and I want nothing more than to take a hot shower and crawl under the covers, I still have a responsibility to ensure Tiny and Rex are being properly stimulated.

We get home just before noon, and I let myself into the dingy apartment I’ve been sharing with Tyler for a little over a year now. The door makes an annoying creaking sound that grates at my mind. Tyler said he’d fix that two weeks ago. Before we step inside, I clench my eyes shut for just a second, dragging in a deep breath to center myself. It’s not a big deal, Lark. He works too.

I shake myself out and head inside, setting my keys on the unbalanced entryway table before unleashing Tiny and hanging my coat in the small closet. 1

Loud yapping greets me as Rex, my Chihuahua-shih tzu mix, comes sprinting down the hall from his normal seat in the old, peeling leather recliner.

I bend down, picking him up and planting a kiss atop his wiry head. “Hi, my handsome little man. How were you for Daddy while I was gone with your brother?” I ask him, my voice a high pitch that causes his ears to perk up, but of course, it isn’t Rex’s answering voice that I hear.

“Lark, stop talking to that damn dog like he’s a human being. I’m not his ‘daddy,’ and Tiny is not his ‘brother.’ Have you seen that dog? There’s no way they’d have come from the same womb.” He grunts from where he’s standing in the kitchen, setting his dirty coffee mug on the side of the kitchen sink. Why can’t he put the dish in the sink?

When I don’t answer, he rolls his eyes, leaning back against the counter with his narrowed eyes set on me. He changes the subject when I continue to stare at him, too exhausted to hide the contempt I’m feeling. “How was work?” Tyler asks, pushing off the counter to invade my space. Instinctually, I turn my body to the side, pretending to inspect something on my pants, scratching at a random spot with my nail. He doesn’t take the hint, wrapping his arms around me from behind and nuzzling his face into my hair. My shoulders tense as his hands travel down toward my navel.

“It was good, but I haven’t showered yet,” I say as if that’ll somehow explain away the way my skin crawls when his hands are on me. I take his hands in mine, moving them off me and stepping out of his grasp. “Obviously.” I chuckle nervously, realizing I just got home, so he’s already aware that I haven’t showered. “I’m gonna take one real quick and then head to bed.”

His face is unreadable as he scrutinizes me before deciding to let whatever was on his mind go. “Yeah, okay,” he says, blowing out a resigned breath before he breaks into the mischievous grin I used to be fond of. Recently, though, it’s just riddled me with anxiety. “Mind if I join you in the shower?”

My mind is a chaotic mess of emotions. Why don’t I want him to shower with me? When was the last time we were even intimate?

I used to love showering together, but these days, I just work so much, and the clinic can’t run itself. Ever since I got Toute la Famille up and running, I’ve been running myself ragged. It’s just so hard to find reliable staff I can trust those babies with, and it makes me anxious to think about. I put so much pressure on myself to succeed so I can prove to myself that I can be independent regardless of the fact that it’s my dad’s money that funds the clinic.

“Uh, maybe later,” I say with a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just so tired,” I tell him, ignoring the anger etched into his features as I lean in to kiss his cheek before practically sprinting down the hall to shower and head to bed for the foreseeable future.

I turn the water to warm and opt to toss a lavender and eucalyptus shower steamer in for a more luxurious experience. Betty had gotten them for me in a cute gift basket she made me when I seemed particularly worn out last month. She’s right. I really need to unwind. I deserve to relax.

I lock the door to the bathroom to ensure total privacy and get in the shower, wetting my hair first. I lather my roots, applying pressure and giving myself a half-decent scalp massage before rinsing and coating my ends in conditioner.

The calming floral scent wraps around me, and I feel the tension slowly leeching from my shoulders as I let the warm water run down my body.

I let my conditioner sit for a while, pumping some body wash into my hands and skating them over my body, cleansing the day away. As my fingers glide over my glucose monitor, it serves as my daily reminder that as well-controlled as my diabetes usually is, I’m still reliant on this little device.

Now that I actually have time to think, my mind decides to wander to a place I’m not fully prepared for.

Thoughts of Tyler and our relationship start to flood in, unease settling into my chest with each passing thought. I’m realizing that much of our time together hasn’t been positive, and that’s only become more apparent over the last few months.

It feels like every day, we drift further and further apart.

But I love him, don’t I?

I mean, we’ve been together for years. He makes me feel… safe? Content? I’m not so sure anymore.

Maybe it’s the lack of intimacy. He never wants to just cuddle anymore, and as someone who deeply values physical touch as a love language, I want to be held without the expectation that it’ll lead to something else .

With Tyler, he always expects it to go beyond cuddling, and I just can’t deal with his disappointment. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m fucking exhausted.

I love what I do, but it’s draining, and the hours I’ve made for myself aren’t great. I have three new veterinarians who recently started, so there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Soon, I hope to be able to work three days a week and have the opportunity to see my friends more than just at our once-monthly book club.

Maybe if I actually made an effort to have sex, he’d be more than willing to just cuddle and relax together. Stop it. Sex isn’t going to fix our relationship, and if we’re at this point, maybe it’s time to start considering a different future for myself.

Besides, Tyler hasn’t satisfied me in years. He refuses to do anything other than missionary, and for someone who makes me feel like crap for “holding out on him,” he sure is a prude.

He’s never been open to a single position or kink I’ve wanted to explore. I’m not asking for anything totally out of left field, but just anything other than missionary. Why can’t he seem to understand that our sex life is awfully freaking boring ?

As if I weren’t already down a needlessly upsetting rabbit hole, my mind lands on the one person it has absolutely no business thinking about.

I tried to ignore Gianni today, but my skin felt like it was on fire the entire time, prickling periodically as if I had some sixth sense to tell me when his eyes were on me.

I’ve done my best to repress the feelings flowing through my body since having his eyes on me again.

I rinse my body, a pang of desire shooting to my deprived clit as my hand gently glides over the sensitive skin. Maybe this is the answer? It’s scientifically proven that masturbation is healthy and increases libido the more regularly you have an orgasm.

Hopefully, if I remind myself what it’s like to feel pleasure, I’ll actually want to have sex again. Besides, I deserve to come whenever and however I want, without guilt for not involving Tyler.

I brace my right hand against the tile wall, holding the shower head in my dominant hand and changing the setting to a thick stream instead of the more dispersed rainfall I use when rinsing my body. Leaning my forehead against the cool wall, I hold the stream directly over my clit, letting the pressure ease the ache in my core.

My thoughts drift to sex, but as I picture myself riding the thick, veiny dick I want inside me, my mind flashes with images of Gianni’s face as his body tenses.

My eyes burst open, a chill rippling through my body as guilt weaves its way inside my chest.

I take a deep, steadying breath, pushing the thought away, but when I close my eyes again, all I see is him.

I picture Gianni going still as my body lights on fire, sparks of pleasure flying straight to my clit.

A moan creeps up my throat, and I cry out, heat rushing to my cheeks. I’m already too close to the orgasm I desperately need, and I can’t make myself stop.

The pressure is too much; my skin is on fire, but a chill quakes through me. My breasts ache to be touched, and my abdominal muscles clench tightly as I near my release.

My breathing becomes shallow, and I know I shouldn’t be picturing this man or his toned, tan arms, eyes I want to swim in, and rough, calloused hands wrapping around my throat. He has a girlfriend, and I’m taken .

The reminder does nothing to quell the storm brewing in my core. I’ve gone too far, and my orgasm has taken hold of me. It tears through me. My legs turn to jelly as I fight to keep my arm locked in position, holding pressure to my clit.

Blinding pleasure tingles down my limbs, spreading throughout me as I whimper, my throat feeling thick.

My back arches as I pant, coming back down from the high of the first satisfying orgasm I’ve had in what’s probably been three years .

A flush creeps across my cheeks, and I swallow thickly as embarrassment takes a firm hold of me. The haze has worn off, and I know I should be ashamed of who I was just picturing. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to regret it despite knowing how hypocritical I’m being.

1. Heart-Shaped Box – Nirvana