Page 68 of A Million To Fall

I let her replace this moment. I have to.

I move faster. Harder. Mechanically. Just trying to finish.

Mrs. Davis cries out when she comes, arching into me. I seal my mouth over hers, desperate to shut her up before she wakes Jake, before this whole thing turns from unbearable to catastrophic. Her moans are muffled, her nails digging into my skin like she wants to brand herself into me.

But I don’t react. I don’t let myself feel anything beyond the bare minimum needed to finish this.

I focus on that—on it being over.

It takes everything I have, but I finally push myself over the edge, thinking of soft, pale skin beneath me and ocean blue eyes staring straight into my soul, mouth curved into the most beautiful smile.

When it’s done, everything in me… drops, silence replacing the moans.

My body stills, empty and used up.

I pull away and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. My boxers are on the floor, and my fingers itch to put them back on, but I don’t move. I don’t think I can.

Behind me, Mrs. Davis shifts. A moment later, I feel her breasts press against my back as her hands reach around and slide the used condom off me. She rises—still naked—and walks to the bathroom. The trash can lid clanks softly before she returns a moment later.

She crosses to the walk-in closet but doesn’t bother with clothes.

Instead, she comes back holding a crisp stack of five hundred-dollar bills and sets them on the nightstand, fanning them out demonstratively.

“God, you’re exquisite,” she breathes, sliding into her bed behind me. She runs a hand down my back, then leans in and presses her lips to my shoulder. “Come lie down with me. Just for a little while.”

I don’t fight it when she tugs at my arm, guiding me back under the covers beside her.

She settles against me, her head on my shoulder, one leg draped over mine. Her fingers trace lazy circles on my chest, like she’s drawing a map of a place I don’t want to be.

“You have no idea how good you are in bed,” she whispers.

I say nothing.

I just wait, counting her breaths until they slow and deepen. I give it another ten minutes—just to be sure—then peel out of her bed. I’m noiseless as I pull on my boxers, gather the rest of my clothes, and collect the cash from the nightstand.

Only once I’m out of her room and back in the guest bathroom—the door locked behind me—do I allow myself to breathe.

I turn on the shower, then look at myself in the mirror, only to look away immediately. I already know what I’ll see. Something empty. Something wrong. Something dirty.

I can’t believe I just fucked my best friend’s mom. In her marriage bed. For cash.

I stand there, white-knuckling the counter as I stare at the money.

I hate what I did.

But I did it for Cassie and Bronx.

Finally, I step under the scalding water and let it burn. I stay long enough for my skin to wrinkle, long enough to feel like I might scrub the night off me, even though I know I won’t be able to. What I just did isn’t something I’ll be able to wash away with soap and water.

twenty-four

Boston

My alarm goes off later than usual because the gym doesn’t open till eight on weekends.

Doesn’t matter, though. I’ve been awake for hours.

In fact, I didn’t really sleep. I just lay there staring, tossing, thinking, turning. Until everything blurred. Her voice, her hands, the weight of my decision. All I want is to figure out how to feel like myself again.