Chapter 17

“Casey, wake up, honey.”

The warm hand on my shoulder jostled me out of a restless sleep. I blinked into the morning sun streaming through the window of Rick’s pickup truck, then looked over at him where he stood peering through the driver’s side door.

“Where am I?” I mumbled.

“You’re in the cab of my truck. How you got here is something you’ll have to answer, though. You sure weren’t in it when I parked it last night. Is there something you want to tell me?”

I clenched my eyes shut trying to block out the memory of what I’d seen the night before. After the most amazing and eye-opening sexual experience of my life, I’d discovered the man who had orchestrated it having sex with my mother. True, he was still technically married to her—he was my stepfather, after all—but he’d given me every indication that their relationship was over before he went to bed. Alone.

Even my sealed eyelids couldn’t hold back the tears. My throat tightened up like a noose had just been strung around it and I could only shake my head.

“Hey, honey. Something must’ve set you off after I left yesterday. Come inside and talk to me, okay?” My stepdad’s best friend was the sweet, honorable, heroic type. He squeezed my ankle and reached across the gearshift to grab the duffel bag I’d tossed in the floorboards when I’d climbed into the truck the night before. I’d meant to go to my friend Sarah’s house, but she’d been unavailable, in spite of our near constant communication since turning eighteen and our subsequent high school graduation. We had big summer plans now that we were officially adults. Mine had mostly involved trying to understand some of the darker thoughts I had about sex. But I had a feeling all that would be changing now that Max and Rick had opened my eyes up to the true wonders of the BDSM world. At least that’s what I’d gone to sleep imagining last night.

The humiliation of the experience was still acutely with me. Seeing my stepdad Max in bed with my mother again after we’d talked about how over their marriage was…his hands on her…it had all been too much. I couldn’t stay in the same house with two people I couldn’t bear to look at after the events of the last two days.

I let Rick help me out of the truck and lead me to his front door, my eyes hazy from tears. I had always adored his house, but had trouble appreciating the architecture of the Craftsman style bungalow my family had visited so many times for barbecues before Rick’s wife had died a year ago. He’d built the house himself before even meeting his wife. My stepdad had helped him, and I still remembered coming around sometimes with Mom while the pair of them were in the middle of some project or other. Laying the plumbing or hanging drywall. It had been when I was too young to appreciate how gorgeous the two men were without shirts, but I could still recognize their masculinity even that young, and I loved being around them. I’d felt safe, protected.

It was a far cry from how I felt now. Max had betrayed me. And my mother…why was she acting that way if she was ~divorcing~ him?

Once inside, he urged me onto the sofa. I flopped down and buried my face in my hands, trying to hide behind the tears.

“Was it too much for you yesterday?” Rick asked softly. “The first session can take a lot out of you. I was a bit of a mess the first time Chloe dominated me. Felt like such a baby for a few days afterward. The second time was very different, though.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t that. I loved it.” Those were the only words I could get out before emotion bubbled up again at a fresh image of Mom’s naked back hovering above Max on their bed. Rick left the sofa next to me and a moment later a box of tissues hovered in front of my face. I gratefully grabbed the box and he sat on the coffee table in front of me, resting his strong, calloused hands on my bare knees.

“Take a deep breath, honey. Talk to me.”

“Mom…came home,” I said, the words coming out in a stutter. I blew my nose and tried to catch my breath for more. “Last night…I saw them…together. Why would he do that?”

Rick’s lips tightened, his jaw clenching tightly. “He wouldn’t, Casey. I know Max.”

“Oh yeah? Well I know what I saw!” I yelled at him, standing abruptly. “She was naked and…on top of him.”

“When did you see this?” he asked, his voice harsh and serious.

I shook my head, trying to remember. I’d woken up in the middle of the night but couldn’t remember what time it was. Late was all I knew. Then I remembered trying to call Sarah.

“About one a.m.”

“Want to know something?” Rick asked. “I crashed hard last night when I got home. Not even a fucking hurricane could have woken me up, and your dad…er…Max did more work and was under more stress than I was yesterday. He’s not a light sleeper, Case.”

“He was touching her.”

“Tell me ~exactly~ what you saw.”

“He was lying there…and Mom was on top of him…and his hands were holding her.”

“Like, on her tits? Were they kissing?”

“Why the hell are you asking me all this! I fucking saw them together, doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

He sat back with a huff of exasperation. “Yes! It means a lot because he was so fucking devastated when he found out she was leaving him. Not only was he afraid that he would lose you in the process, she’s also been fucking someone else. They haven’t been happy together for a really long time. If your mom pulled something like this I doubt he’d respond the way you think he did. He loves you, Case, so I don’t believe it happened the way you describe. Just try to remember. Humor me.”

I shook my head, confused and trying to remember exactly what I had seen. The effort distracted me from the emotional aspect of the memory. The door had only been cracked a tiny bit, but just enough for me to see the candlelight flickering over my mom’s naked backside. I really hadn’t seen much more than that, though. The only parts of Max that had been in view were his hands holding onto her ass, which was ~moving~ on top of him. On top of the covers. My eyes widened at the memory, then my mouth dropped open and an icy stone sank into the pit of my stomach.

“Oh, God. I think I really fucked up.”