Page 63 of Filthy Twisted Devil

Can’t :( Party prep

Luke

Let me know if you need any more help with balloons.

She didn’t answer. That’s about how all our conversations have gone since I left her on the couch. She’s not ignoring me, but she’s not effusively responsive, either. I’ve typed up a dozen texts as a transparent attempt to restart the conversation, but they were all too pathetic to send. Instead, I just check my phone every ten minutes, silently hoping for a text from Eden.

I have a feeling I know exactly what's going on. Eden got a taste of what I'm really into and regretted it. As slow as I tried to take things, it was still too much. I was too much.

I’m pretty sure she liked what we did. After seeing how she came for me, I’d swear up and down that Eden is just as into bondage as I am, that playing submissive makes her wet as hell. It can be hard to accept that label, though. She’s inexperienced enough that she might be uncomfortable imagining a lifetime of kinky sex ahead of her when she hasn’t even gotten any in the first place. Hell, if I were her, I’d probably want to save my virginity for a nice, vanilla guy. Someone safe.

But damn if I don’t want it to be me. If she texted me right now, asking me to make this real, the truth is, I’d probably say yes.

Then, like I’d wished it into happening, my phone rings. Eden’s name appears on the screen. The fact that she’s calling instead of texting gives me pause, but at this point, I’ll take what I can get.

“Hi,” I answer, slightly breathless. Pathetic.

“Hey,” she says. “Uh, do you have a minute to talk?”

Fuck. Any variation of we need to talk is death for a relationship. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that includes fake relationship with benefits. I take a deep breath and steel myself for the inevitable.

“Sure. What's up?”

“I just thought with everything happening, it's probably time for us to come up with an exit plan.”

An exit plan. That’s not good, but at least she’s not dumping me immediately. She’s not out of my life just yet. Right now, I’m desperate enough to take what I can get.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Years of practice means I’m able to keep my voice light. Casual. “We want to do this right, so nobody ends up with any hard feelings. I mean, I’m setting up a contract with your brothers to buy grain for a partnered whiskey batch. We need a way to end things so they don’t think I broke your heart.”

“Exactly.” Eden sounds relieved. “I don’t want to cause any tension, because frankly, that deal is good for you and my family. We need to make it clear there are no hard feelings. Plus, I’ll be more established at Flair. My brothers won’t be worried that I’ll run back to CamCuties once we’re done dating.”

Unexpected anger surges through me at the idea of Eden reviving PrairieSmoke. Strange, unknown men shouldn’t have that kind of access to her body. I don’t have any goddamn right to feel possessive of her, but that doesn’t stop it from crowding out every rational thought in my mind.

“You wouldn’t anymore, right? Go back to being a camgirl.”

“Of course not.” Her voice is firm. “It was only a stopgap. I’m doing well at Flair. I can’t think of a reason they’d fire me, and even if they did, I have savings now. I’m building contacts with vendors and local companies and⁠—”

I realize too late that I’ve made her feel defensive. Like I’m one of her brothers, not trusting her to keep herself afloat on her own.

“You’re right,” I interrupt. “They love you at Flair, and you’ve been kicking ass event planning. I know the only reason you’d go back to CamCuties would be if you wanted to. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”

She lets out a breath and I can tell she’s centering herself. “It’s fine.”

“So. Your exit plan. Did you have a date in mind?” I’m not exactly pumped to return to the subject, but it’s not like there’s any avoiding it.

“I thought Beau and Brinley’s wedding might be a good official end date. June 5.”

The finality of it hits like a slap. She’s been thinking about this enough to choose a day. At least it’s a date four months in the future. It’s not over yet. I have time to figure out how I’m going to let go of her without ending up miserable. That should be enough. It has to be.

“Makes sense,” I say, “assuming we’re not breaking up at the reception.”

“Of course not. We just stop seeing each other and taper off the selfies to my brothers. Then, we’ll tell them we decided we’re better off as friends. We’ll say it’s clean, mutual.”

“Right. That’s smart.”

I say it because what else am I supposed to say? That I’d rather drag this out indefinitely? No. That’s not fair to her. At some point, she’s going to want a real relationship with a man who trusts himself to fuck her. A man whose kinky sexual drives don’t terrify her. A man she can introduce to her brothers without being forced into it by a virginity auction gone awry.

I should never have been Eden’s first. Not her first fuck, and definitely not her first boyfriend.