“I should probably wash you, eh?” she asks after a while.

“I can do that myself.” I stroke up and down her side, intentionally grazing her boob with each pass.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She doesn’t get off me. Instead she grabs her body poof, squirts my body wash on it, and starts at my neck, working her way down my arms and chest. While it sucks to feel like shit, and I’m not a fan of being incompetent, it’s nice to have her take care of me like this.

When she’s done with my upper body, she lifts off. I’ve gone soft, but I’m still disappointed. Usually I’d be able to get hard again by now and go for round two, but my dick is slower to recover than usual, like the rest of me. At least the water is still warm, so there’s no cold shock.

“Give me a sec.” She gets out of the tub and towels off. Grabbing the red robe with my number on the back from the hook, she puts it on and ties it loosely at the waist. Violet owns a lot of red clothes now. And she looks amazing in them.

She kneels on the mat beside the tub. Her nose wrinkles, and then she smiles. “You do realize you’re bathing in your own jizz, right?”

I laugh and then cough-groan at the sharp jab in my side. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

“Apparently it’s a great moisturizer.” Violet takes care of the bottom half of my body, paying lots of attention to my dick, which eventually makes me hard all over again. It’s a relief that I haven’t lost the ability to do that, too. She takes care of it with her hands this time. When I warn her I’m about to come, she doesn’t grab the washcloth. Instead she covers the head with her mouth and swallows.

I love her so fucking much. For so many reasons.

10

Contents

Under Pressure

VIOLET

The week following Alex’s accident is comprised mostly of doctor’s appointments, learning how to cook new things with Daisy, periodic short visits from friends, frequent appearances by Sunny, lots of fruit baskets and get well cards, and sadly infrequent and very gentle sex.

I don’t go in to work, doing what I can from home when Alex is napping. Which is often. In the year we’ve been together, I’ve never seen him so drained of energy and motivation. Not being able to do anything isn’t good for his psychological wellbeing.

Surprisingly, Daisy’s presence in the house isn’t a total nightmare. Apart from the overwhelming smell of hairspray, she’s mostly pleasant to have around. Sure, it’s a challenge to have another woman encroaching on my territory, especially one who’s so good at the domesticated shit, but I’ve learned a few new things, so that’s a plus.

My mom has never really been all that awesome at that part. She was always fun, but we ate a lot of fast food when I was young. It wasn’t until Sidney came into the picture that my mom took an active interest in eating things that didn’t come from the frozen section of the grocery store.

As Alex starts to feel better, Daisy takes the opportunity to go out for lunch and manicures with my mom. Those two get along disturbingly well. What blows my mind entirely is the fact that neither of them has mentioned anything about the wedding, or lack-thereof.

I’m just waiting for the right time to bring it up with Alex. I’ve almost mentioned it more than once, but I held off because I don’t want him to think it’s because of the accident. Because it isn’t. Not directly, anyway.

At the end of the week, after a long conversation with Alex in which I express my guilt and he assures me he’s more than okay enough for me to leave him for a few hours, I decide to go to work on Friday. It’s been a week and a half since the accident. We rescheduled the Darcy presentation, and they offered to postpone it again, but I don’t want it hanging over my head, dividing my attention, which should be on Alex.

Plus I need to get out of the house and Daisy can be overwhelming with how much fussing she does over Alex. He’s a grown-ass man, not a baby.

I stop to get Charlene on the way. With her picking up my slack at work, me managing Alex, and Daisy being here, we haven’t had a lot of time to talk. We’ve mostly been reduced to brief conversations and texts in which I tell her I’m fine, even though I’m not.

Charlene hops in and gives me a side-hug. “How are you? Can I tell you how much less exciting work has been without you there?”

“Jimmy and Dean not keeping you entertained?” I pull away from the curb.

“Jimmy and Dean are obnoxious and bored without you.”

“That’s because you don’t do and say half the stupid shit I do.”

“I miss our ridiculousness,” Charlene says.

“Me, too.” Charlene is the one person I miss seeing every day at work.

The closer we get to Stroker and Cobb, the more anxious I become. Working from home has been nice—nicer than I expected. I’m highly conflicted over going in today, and not just because of the guilt.

Alex is actually doing surprisingly well physically. Mentally and emotionally, it’s a different story. He’s been obsessively watching the games he’s missing, replaying every goal, most of which are being scored by Randy. The team won the past two games, which should be good, but it worries me, because it probably worries Alex. Being away from him worries me.

“Are you okay?” Charlene asks.

“I’m fine.” I avoid looking directly at her. I have makeup on today, including mascara, which I’m not sure is waterproof, and the buildup of emotions threatens to overwhelm me. Maybe I need to get a part-time job at Hot Topic so I can immerse myself in the emo that’s become my life.