I rolled off her and knew it was the last time we would ever fuck. No use in trying to fake it and pretend there would be a next time. Janice and I were done even if she didn’t know it yet. Sex happened when I needed some, and the rest of the time, it was work, work, and more work. I’d been busy anyway, traveling all over the world since I’d taken over the reins at Blackstone Global Enterprises eighteen months ago when my father became too ill to continue.
Janice purred up against my neck and rubbed her tits into the side of my chest. I fought the urge to push her away but stripped off the condom instead. In the beginning we both seemed to be on the same page with expectations that our connection didn’t really extend beyond the bedroom. She was a successful model in the fashion industry and traveled as much as or more than I did, so I hadn’t found her to be clingy before. If she had been, then there never would have been a “thing” at all between us, because I knew all about women who cling. The line of females looking for a rich man to make all their dreams come true was as long as it was easy to spot, and I’d fielded so many attempts over the years, I was an expert at avoidance.
But now I sensed Janice wanted so much more from me than I was able to give her, and I dreaded the confrontation that was coming. Some sort of commitment to the future was never going to happen, and it annoyed me that she still pushed. I thought I’d been clear when we started out.
She’d come to my father’s funeral six months ago with her family, and in my grief I’d turned to her offer of comfort, even though I’d said I probably couldn’t give her more than an infrequent night at a time. After a few weeks of regular sex, I’d suggested we be exclusive, which was completely new territory for me. Not having to play the field in order to get laid was convenient, and we came from the same world, having grown up privileged in the Boston area, attending the same private schools, vacationing at our beachfront homes on the island. Being with someone who understood the ins and outs of New England society just made for an easier time of it, so I decided to give the girlfriend thing a shot with her. We both had to be in Boston at the same time in order to be together anyway, and that wasn’t always easy. As much as I’d made the effort to work toward my first real relationship in the hopes maybe I’d feel something for Janice, it was time to face up to the fact there was nothing deeper than an orgasm or two going on between us, and there never had been.
My mother would be devastated when she found out. Probably even more than Janice would be. Our families were close and I accepted that it would be awkward between her people and mine once our breakup was announced.
Note to self: don’t fuck friends of the family ever again.
And there was also the suspicion Janice was cheating on me. The fact that I wasn’t bothered too much was telling in itself, but she was the only woman I’d been with for the last six months. If we couldn’t even be honest with each other about who we were fucking, then it was hopeless for us anyway. Not contracting genital herpes would be an additional plus.
I wished I could lay that bomb on my mother when she started in with the guilt trip over our demise as a couple. But it wouldn’t do for Madelaine Blackstone to hear the word fuck or any variation of it in a conversation with her son. Ever. What a pity that was. I’d love to see the horrified look on her face—
“What are you smiling about?” Janice asked, her hand sliding down my stomach on a direct path to my cock.
“Was I?” I stopped her hand from gripping me at the last second and disentangled myself from her body. I rested my forehead in my hands as I sat up on the side of the bed.
“Yeah, Caleb, you were.” She sounded annoyed. “What’s the matter with you anyway? Why don’t you want to go again?” She draped herself over my back and shimmied the whole naked length of her body into mine while I tried not to shudder. “You know once is never enough for me,” she said with a very noticeable touch of desperation thrown in to hopefully change my mind.
You’re a motherfucking idiot for ever getting involved with her. Learn from this, moron. Learn!
I was pretty sure Janice was a nymphomaniac, and while it had been a bonus in the beginning for a guy who needed to have his brains fucked out to bear the loss of a beloved parent, now not so much. I reached for my pants and dragged them on, desperate to put a barrier between my cock and her as quickly as possible. I really needed a shower, but my conscience couldn’t go another five minutes without delivering the news we were finished—fucking—forever.