by M. S. Parker
Forty-Nine
Nate
I wasn’t sure what pulled me out of sleep, whether it was noise or the sudden realization that I was alone in bed. When I opened my eyes, it was dark in my room, and it took me a minute to remember that after Ashlee and I had recovered, we’d taken a shower together before going back to my bedroom. I’d fallen asleep with my arms wrapped around her and her head on my chest.
She wasn’t in bed with me anymore, though, and when I touched the sheets, they were cool. I sat up, frowning into the darkness. Was she in the bathroom? If so, why had she been gone long enough for the sheets to cool off? When I listened, however, I didn’t hear anything coming from that direction. No water running, no moving about.
Then I realized I could hear something. Not water, but other sounds that seemed to be coming from down the hall. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of pants, putting them on as I walked. I’d gone only a few steps into the hall when I put a name to what I was hearing.
Fucking.
Male and female sounds. Moans and curses.
Was Ashlee watching porn in my living room?
Something in the back of my mind told me there was something I was missing. Something that would’ve explained what I was hearing. But I couldn’t quite figure it out, my mind still muddled with sleep.
I was also a little preoccupied with thinking up the ways I was going to punish her for what she was watching without me. Preoccupied enough that I stood in the entryway, watching the television screen for several minutes before processing what I was seeing. What she was watching.
A tall, slender blonde was bent over a bench, her berry-colored nipples pinched between metal clamps, joined by a thin steel chain. A line of men stood behind her, all naked and stroking themselves while the guy at the front of the line fucked her. Another man stood in front of her, his hand on the back of her head, holding her in place as he fucked her mouth.
I should’ve known who it was before I saw the man’s face. I should have remembered. What sort of man hires escorts to fuck his girlfriend, one after the other, while she sucks him off…and then forgets that it ever happened?
Apparently, I was such a man.
As I realized what she was watching, I saw other things too. The doors of the cabinet under the television were open, cases on the floor and on the coffee table, some closed, some open. Each one had a name and a date, both of which corresponded to files on a server where I kept digital copies of the same encounters.
Fuck.
Fuck!
This couldn’t be happening. Ashlee wasn’t sitting on my couch, watching me getting a blowjob from a woman whose name I couldn’t remember while conveying all the passion and interest I might’ve had in watching paint dry.
This wasn’t what I wanted to be explaining this early in the morning.
Not like this.
Fifty
Ashlee
Everything was dark when I woke up, and it took me a couple seconds to remember where I was. After we’d finished, we’d cleaned up, and Nate had brought me back to his room, but my memories of that part of the night were blurry at best. I was fully awake now, though.
One of Nate’s arms was draped across me, his hand on my breast so casually that it might’ve fallen there in his sleep. His breathing was slow, and even behind me, his body was relaxed.
I would’ve stayed there even if I couldn’t get back to sleep, but there were certain things that required me getting out of bed. I managed to extricate myself without waking Nate and grabbed some of his clothes from a basket of folded laundry. Everything was far too big for me, but the air chilled me enough that I didn’t want to even go to the bathroom without putting on more than a shirt.
When I came out of the bathroom, I was awake enough to know that I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. I didn’t suffer from insomnia like this often, but when I did, it hit hard. This was one of those nights.
Not wanting to bother Nate, I headed for the kitchen to get myself something to drink, and then to the living room. Watching movies was generally my fallback for the times I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t think Nate would mind. The table under the television had a DVD player on the top, which made me think the movies would be in the cabinet underneath. When I opened it, I saw stacks of cases, but none of them looked like the usual movie cases. These looked more like CD cases. Curious, I knelt down to get a better view.
The stacks went nearly to the top of the cabinet and were in rows three deep. I didn’t take the time to count them all, but simple math put the number at a hundred, easily. I pulled out a few from the middle stack and saw that each one was marked. It took me until the third one to understand what I was seeing.
Helena R. 11-3-17, 11-7-17
Jacinda P. 10-12-17
Lucinda P. 9-4-17, 9-12-17, 9-14-17, 9-20-17
Women’s names and dates. I took some from another stack.
Iris K. 3-7-17, 3-12-17, 3-20-17
Maddie L. 2-9-17
Helen W. 1-1-17, 1-2-17
My stomach sank, as if it had already accepted what my head and heart were still trying to deny. I had to see. I had to know for certain before I let my imagination accuse Nate of something I couldn’t take back.
I put the one marked Iris K in the player and stood up to watch. I didn’t recognize the room as one I’d been in, but I definitely recognized the set-up. It was a playroom of some kind, maybe at a club or someone’s home, but it wasn’t Nate’s. Then again, the DVD wasn’t that recent. He could have made changes.
Then a man entered the room and it no longer mattered where this was being filmed because I knew that figure. I moved to the couch, not trusting my legs to hold me. I should have turned it off before I saw anything else…before I could no longer pretend that these weren’t what I knew them to be.
There was a phrase – watching a train wreck – that I’d never been able to understand fully. Yes, I understood what the phrase meant, but the fact that it alluded to people watching something as horrifying as a train wreck because they were unable to look away hadn’t made sense. I understood that a little better now, though I wished I didn’t.
I wasn’t jealous of the tall blonde or any of the other women represented by those DVDs because I’d already known Nate had been with other women. He never lied and tried to pretend he’d only had a couple girlfriends before me.
Granted, seeing him with another woman was different than just knowing about it, but that wasn’t why my stomach was churning or my vision blurring with tears. It wasn’t even because of the men getting in line to take their turn. For all I knew, it’d been the blonde’s idea. The thought of him wanting to share me wasn’t an appealing one, but he’d already said he didn’t want to do that. And if he changed his mind, we’d talk about it.
No, it was the stacks of DVDs he’d made with the women he’d been with…and then kept. Not one or two of Roma that he’d forgotten about or a handful locked away in a box. Years of sexual encounters at his fingertips, all easily accessible for watching whenever he chose.
A thought hit me, a sharp pain straight through my heart: did any of those cases bear my name? Were there cameras here, recording everything we said and did? Did he use his phone when he was someplace where he couldn’t set up a camera? Had he recorded everything he’d done to me?
My face burned as I thought about everything he could have recorded. When he’d spanked me the first time. Taken my virginity. Oral sex. The things I’d said. The sounds I’d made…
“Ashlee.”
It took me a second to realize that his voice wasn’t coming from the screen. I jumped up, turning to see him standing behind me with that blank expression on his face. I hated that mask. Hated that he shut me out even when he required me to trust him.
“I’d like…” I shook my head, changing my phrasing. “Will you explain this, please?”
The muscle in his jaw clenched, as if my question aggravated him. “They all knew, if that’s wh
at you want to know. They knew I sometimes recorded us fucking to ensure there were never any issues of consent. No he-said-she-said. The last thing I ever needed was a pissed-off ex making accusations, either to get a pay-off or just to smear my name.”
That made some sense, but I still had questions.
“I can see that,” I said, working to keep my voice calm. “But it bothers me–”
“It wouldn’t have bothered you if you’d minded your own fucking business.”
I stared at him, wondering if I’d misheard him since he’d said it with all the inflection of commenting on the weather.
“You knew who I was when you threw yourself at me,” he continued. “Your eyes were wide open, so don’t pretend to be some high moral authority.”
This couldn’t be happening. Not like this. But I knew it was happening. Again.
“If you can’t handle this, you can leave. Have the front desk call you a cab.”
A beat of silence. Two. Three.
My purse was next to my shoes, and it was easy to pick it up as I slipped them on. I didn’t care that my clothes were somewhere else or that I was wearing something of his. All I wanted in that moment was to get as far away from him as possible.
He was right that I’d known who he was. I’d just been foolish enough to think that he wanted to change. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
We were done.
Continues in The Master (Manhattan Records), the final book in Nate and Ashlee’s story. CLICK HERE to learn more.
Office romances by M. S. Parker
Chasing Perfection
Unlawful Attraction
A Legal Affair
The Pleasure Series
Serving HIM
The Billionaire’s Muse
Bound
One Night Only
Damage Control
Pure Lust Box Set