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I pointed to Feebee’s artwork—the broken heart that once resembled mine, trying to tell Nonna I came to admire it.
“Uh-huh, is that why you’re undressed?” Her raised eyebrows questioned me. Her intense, accusing stare was on me while Feebee moved across the bed, granting me the small mercy of not allowing my dear sweet Nonna to sit where I’d been fucking my own hand. She also had the decency to flip the sheet. She deserved another gift for that.
“Get out, you filthy man. I’ll be having words with you tomorrow. She’s sad. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want you taking advantage of her.”
Nonna’s feet—hidden in pink bunny slippers—took her around the bed, all without knowing I hadn’t taken advantage...because it was given freely.
I moved to the door, glancing once at the chipping paint we had both contributed to, and I tuned them out as Nonna said something to Feebee.
“Mercer,” Feebee interrupted their conversation, and the hold she still had on me pulled me back, my cock still twitching at the sound of her voice. “Goodnight.”
I nodded once, and I closed the door. My feet no longer cared about the creaky boards, and as I walked back to my room, I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.
Because I would be up all fucking night, bruising my unsated cock over thoughts of her.
Chapter 20
Feebee
Shades of autumn lit up under the morning sun, inspiring my latest painting. I didn’t feel like adding to my unfinished broken heart because today, I had less inspiration for that.
I sat at the window, supplies on my dresser and my paintbrush—a bigger one than yesterday—in hand. It dragged over another white canvas while I sat up here alone, listening to tiny chirping birds, safe from predatory owls by the morning light.
A wave of discomfort rolled in my lower abdomen, caused by my period that started around an hour ago. I shifted, also shifting the toilet paper I had stuffed in my underwear to conceal the bleeding.
Later, I would ask Trix to add tampons to the shopping list, as Mercer hadn’t thought of me needing those.
She had left after our sleepover to prepare brunch, all of us missing her delicious breakfasts, including Ethan, who was here early for a business meeting. Apparently, it was rare for Mercer to work from home, only offering his personal space to artists whose work he desperately wanted.
I was honored he showed appreciation for my talent. My lips curved up, wondering what he would think of this one.
I wanted to see Mercer, and aside from him whizzing by my door while Trix slipped out, I hadn’t today. But I hadn’t failed to notice his gaze creeping around her or his eyes raking over my body for a single second, making me needy for him again.
His expensive suit clinging to his body had my paintbrush venturing into a stray path, ruining the red maple tree and dishonoring the appearance of my inspiration as I got lost in daydreams of him.
The subject judged me through the window.
My shoulders dropped, but I knew I could fix it as I placed it on my dresser with everything else.
Tap, tap, tap. Knuckles rattled my closed door.
“Come in!” My voice was loud, powered by vim and excitement, displayed by my bright smile.
My happy expression dropped to the floor, grabbing my wet paintbrush and taking it with it.
“That’s gonna stain,” Damiano pointed out the obvious.
A crimson spot stared up at me as my eyes dropped to it for no more than a second.
A second that he used to get in front of me. His dirty boots pressed the color into my carpet and snapped my favorite brush. His closeness had his crotch too close to my face. He leaned in closer, and as I tried and failed to back away in my chair, his cotton-covered cock brushed my skin.
My neck, still a little stiff and sore, clicked as I twisted away from him quickly.
His hand came up, and his ringed fingers slapped my cheek. The injury smarted, pain and blood rushing to the surface to form a bruise.
“It’s rude to look away from a guest.”
His face was the image of evil. There was nothing pure in his vile expression. It was cold and hard, with a venomous smile on his lips.
