Page 31 of Vicious Betrayal

I watch her eat as I work my way through my own breakfast, and I think about the fact that in a different version of my life, I wouldn't be here. In a version of my life where I didn't almost end up in jail at nineteen and get picked up by an Irish mob boss shortly after with a debt to pay off for him keeping me from behind bars, I'd probably have a wife and kids by now. A house much more full and cozy than mine, with toys all over and a woman's coat on the hook by the door. That version of my life closed a long time ago, but I haven't stopped, from time to time, feeling a sense of regret about it. Not the life I chose, but that there isn't anyone to come home to from it.

There was a time when I was younger when I could have found a woman to marry without it being arranged. But I was deep in helping Lachlan build his empire then, and there was no time for it. And now, I can't help feeling it's too late.

So no, there's no wife. But that makes me wonder as I watch Oksana reach for her coffee mug… what exactly am I fighting here? I'm not being unfaithful to anyone. This is just me and her, and even though it's inevitably destined to end… what's wrong with that, exactly? There's no chance of a twenty-year-old wanting to settle down with a man like me, but she hasn't asked me for that. She wants good sex with a man who knows what he's doing, and I can give her that. She hasn't asked for anything real or permanent. The only question is whether I let myself have it while it lasts, or whether I talk myself out of something good because I'm scared that it'll hurt when she's gone.

I've been hurt before. Worse than this will hurt, probably. I can survive being hurt again. The novelty will wear off for her eventually, but in the meantime, is it so bad for me to just have fun for the first time in years? To enjoy the feeling of being reckless and seeking pleasure with someone who wants to give it as much as I want to give it back to her?

Oksana sets her fork down, eyeing me. "You're quiet," she says.

I shrug and reach for my coffee. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing important." It's a lie, but she doesn't need to know that. There are some things we definitely don't need to discuss, and that's one of them. There's no reason to talk about the lack of a future that's never going to exist, and that neither of us has asked for.

"You know what's weird?" She stabs a piece of bacon. "Most men my age want to talk about themselves the entire time. You're always so quiet. You don't seem to do small talk."

I shrug again. "In my line of work, the talent gets lost after a while, I think." I take another sip and set it down. "I live a hard life, Oksana. A rough one. This is a bright spot, but I don't have a lot of opportunities to just do things like sit and chat with someone about nothing. Even when I'm with a woman, it's just focused on sex. Getting off, having a good time, and going our separate ways."

She frowns at the mention of another woman, but then her expression clears. "So you don't usually take them to breakfast?"

I shake my head. "No, not usually. Drinks is about as far as I usually go."

She looks pleased at that, and I feel an unsettled sensation in my stomach. That should be a warning to me, actually. I don't usually take the women I sleep with out for meals. It's a line between fucking and dating that I'm careful not to cross. But I didn't think twice about crossing it with her.

What, was I supposed to put her in an Uber with a growling stomach and send her home? That's not very 'gentlemanly,' as she would say.

We finish our breakfast and pay, and Deb tells her to come back anytime. Oksana beams, and I don't have the heart to tell her that Deb says that fifty times a day, to literally everyone. She clasps on her helmet herself this time and gets on the back of my bike like she's already born to do it. She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my shoulder.

"Where to now?" she asks.

"You've got somewhere to be, presumably."

"Not really."

"Somewhere you should be."

"Probably." She nips at my ear. "Doesn't mean I'm going."

I drive us back to my house. I should call her an Uber and get on with the rest of my day, and while I'm doing that, remind myself that this isn't sustainable. If I'm not going to stop fucking her, I need to at the very least stop doing anything more than that.

But instead, when we get back, I take her back inside. I strip her out of my shirt, eat her out until she comes twice on my mouth and soaks my beard, and then I fuck her until neither of us can think straight any longer, well past noon.

—

Around six that evening, after I've sent Oksana home finally, a few hours ago, I get a text.

Rian: You in for drinks at McGuinness'?

I text back yeah, without thinking much of it. I could use a beer after last night and today, which has left me with a tide of conflicting emotions. I'm more sexually satisfied than I've been in years—maybe too much so, if the soreness in my dick and thigh muscles is any indication—but mentally, I feel more tied up in knots than Oksana was last night. I keep telling myself that this is a fling, and we both know that, that she's happy and satisfied, so why can't I just let myself be happy for a little while, too?

But the guilt won't quite let me go. Every time I try, I'm reminded that she's half my age, and that a lot of people would think I'm a dirty old man taking advantage of her. But fuck, half the time I feel like she's taking advantage of me… sexually, at least. She's insatiable, and though my dick keeps rising to the challenge, she's going to wear me out.

Rian already has a table when I get there, a pint for each of us ready to go. The bar is another of our favorite haunts, a place that hasn't changed its decor in decades. It's all dark wood and very low lighting with a few dartboards, a pool table, and a jukebox that's usually playing some old folksy music. Rian is sitting there casually with his sleeves rolled up, people-watching, and he grins as he sees me walk in.

"You know, usually I wouldn't tell a man he's glowing, but I think you're there, brother. The sex that good?"

"Maybe I was working on the bike all day," I grunt, sliding into the chair and reaching for the beer. Rian laughs.