“No. Not at all. It was just the question…” I cleared my watery eyes. “I’m not going to marry Jenna.”
Zoey cocked her head to the side. “You guys have been dating for almost two years. You aren’t getting any younger. I’m sure that’s what a woman like her aspires to.”
I shifted, uncomfortable in my seat. “Yeah…but there are prerequisites to marriage.”
“Like what?” Her face is wrinkled.
“Like being in love.”
“So, you guys aren’t in love?” Zoey’s eyes are big as hell.
Now I can’t give her straight eye action. “I’m not in love,” I muttered as I reached up to gather and toss her the deck of cards.
From my peripheral I could see she was utterly stumped. Thankfully, she continued without further questions. I won the next round. Thank fucking goodness. Honestly, I don’t think she gave much effort that time.
“You’re not on your A-game…didn’t play very hard,” I mentioned.
“No. I’m getting tired. I think I’m done after this round, if you don’t mind.” There was less aggression in her tone.
I didn’t know what that meant, but I was determined to get my next, and apparently, my last question out. I took another swig of my drink, a long one.
“I’m ready for my next question,” I informed with my chin in chest, studying her.
“Go for it,” she murmured, and sat back seemingly disinterested.
“How many lovers outside of…Jacques and Morris?”
It burned my throat to utter that Moreau’s name. I still hated that fucker. I’d probably be buried with venom for him.
“Stenton, this is getting more personal than I originally calculated.”
“You agreed to the game. You lost. I’ve presented my question. I’ve even conceded to you quitting on me early. Answer the damn question, Zo.”
I felt it: the aggressive manipulator in me rising. I wanted answers. Zoey chewed on the corner of the inside of her mouth while she made the clicking sound with the back of her throat. My erection stiffened even more under the desk.
“Zoey, we don’t have a lot of time,” I provoked.
The fuck am I doing?
Zoey swallowed hard. Her eyes blinked rapidly and repeatedly.
She stretched her neck slightly. “None.” Then her eyes appeared. On my eyes. Before I could let go of my breath, Zoey whispered with heavy eyes, “Goodnight, Stenton.”
I observed the jiggle in her ass as she ambled out of the office, feeling like shit. Did I really have to use scheming methods to have my ego stroked? Was the need so great because I couldn’t have my cock stroked by her?
I knew Zoey’s answer meant that I’d given her all those experiences, seeing that the fucker Jacques Moreau couldn’t have in one shot, and Morris couldn’t without a brain. I’d isolated all the possibilities with that maneuver by having her essentially admit to me giving her all of those experiences that Jae character mentioned.
~~~~~~~~~~
My chest was heavy and mind wouldn’t slow. I should call Ezra. But I couldn’t because calling my therapist would require full disclosure of what got my ass in the predicament anyway. Not only that, but I’d have to verbalize a confession of the comprising position I’d put Zoey in last night, the horny one I’d driven myself into, and worst of all, my fear of her getting release tonight when she left for her date with Jae in Jersey before picking up Jordan.
Man, have I come a long way with this counseling shit. Never did I think I’d be so driven to call someone to help me sort my shit. But I fucked up big time. I was blanketed with guilt for what I’d done. That aside, I’m angry about her being with another man right now. Hell, I’m still aroused about our conversation regarding sex.
Fuck it!
I needed to get this shit off my chest, especially before the funeral tomorrow. I grabbed my phone, tapped away, and held my breath until he answered.
“Yo, Ezra. You gotta minute?”
~~~~~~~~~~