Post Breakup Sex

by Sibylla Matilde

  For fuck’s sake, I really did love her.

  But, Jesus, I couldn’t admit it to her. Not yet. Not now. I wasn’t ready to say it any more than she was ready to hear it. Especially tonight after the bitches at the bar had upset her so badly. And, fuck, not in the middle of sex. Simply worst possible time to say something so profound.

  Distract her. I had to distract her. Fuck.

  So instead of answering, I fell ravenously upon her, kissing her with a brutal force. Surging back inside her with a merciless thrust that shot her groan deep in my throat. I continued to kiss her, to slam into her with everything I felt at the moment. A frenetic pace that drained my muscles and made my entire body ache with release.

  “Bran—” Sophie breathed against my lips, “fuck, please.”

  Still bewildered by what I’d said, still trying to force my words from her mind. I was shaken and furious, and had to do whatever I could to not talk about it. So I ran my fingers down her side, cupping her curvy little bottom and slipping one finger to thrust into her tight rear entrance.

  That did it.

  That little touch had her tossing her head back with a sharp cry. Her body lit up and her fingernails dug into my back. The sharp pain shot a savage thrill though me. A sensory blend of her gasp and her sweet pussy contracting around me. Her flushed cheeks and her warm, soft lips. Her scratching fingernails and her delirious cries. I moved harder, faster, relishing in the delicious slide of her sweetness pulling at my cock.

  One last thought burst through my brain when I erupted inside her.

  Fuck yeah, I loved her.

  I just couldn’t let her know that.

  So I spent the night literally fucking away any chance of discussion. Every time we stopped having sex, the minute the air started to prickle with the words I had said, the second she seemed like she was going to talk, I distracted her. I distracted myself. And I fucked her again.

  Avoidance seemed to work. My bombshell seemed to be hovering in the air, steady in a weird, edgy way. And by the time we collapsed in exhaustion, we were both fully pretending that those three little words hadn’t been spoken at all.

  I love you.

  It was the first thing I thought of when I woke up. But the last think I wanted to remember.

  Sophie shifted beside me, snuggling into me with a soft sigh. I felt her lashes brush against the skin of my neck. I looked around for something meaningless to discuss. Something to keep the conversation from turning to the words I more or less vomited out in the heat of passion.

  I creaked my eyes open to focus on the bizarre fixture hanging from the ceiling.

  “Sophie,” I mumbled, “baby, that’s the weirdest light I’ve ever seen.”

  Sophie gave a faint exhausted chuckle and followed my gaze. “I had nothing to do with it,” she promised, and my racing heart calmed some. It seemed like she was going to let those words fade with the quiet dawn. “Nothing at all.”

  “It’s very strange,” I said, still slightly cautious. Not entirely sure how to eradicate the vague tension that still lingered. “I’m not even sure how to describe it.”

  “I always thought it looked like a piece of paper crumpled into a ball.”

  “If I hadn’t been here once already, I’d have never expected your apartment to look like this.” I mused, looking around the sterile modern room. Just like the rest of her apartment, the décor wasn’t Sophie in the slightest. “Did they even ask you what you wanted?”

  “No, my mother just told me how much she spent. How that light fixture was imported from Italy.” She frowned and pointed to a full-length mirror standing in the corner. “And that is a one-of-a-kind frame by someone she thinks is really important.”

  “Luxury all around you,” I murmured, almost dejectedly. “I will admit, though, these sheets are nice.”

  “I like yours better. To be honest… I don’t really like my apartment.” She smiled sadly. “It reminds me of my parents.”

  I looked down at her, laying there in her zillion thread count sheets, surrounded by bedroom furniture that easily cost more than my pickup, and remembered her in my bed. Surrounded by my things. I was very much a bachelor, didn’t really have a lot, but the things I did have were sturdy and comfortable. Most of it was inherited from my grandpa and my mom.

  But even though Sophie had lived surrounded by luxury her entire life, she had seemed more comfortable at my place than here.

  “Did you have anything you needed to do today?” I asked, more than anything just wanting to get out of there, but with her. Anyplace but here and the echoes of words that shouldn’t have been voiced.

  And, quite frankly, as overbearing and smothering as Sophie’s parents were, I was halfway surprised there weren’t cameras recording our every move. They would have gotten a show last night. I was a bit of an exhibitionist, but the thought of her bastard of a father watching us made me feel a bit ill inside.

  “No, I’ve avoided any contact with my parents for a few days.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Sophie glanced up at me in alarm. “Oh, God, that’s probably my mother.”

  “Just pretend we’re not here,” I suggested.

  “She’s got a key,” Sophie frowned. “I better answer it.” She pulled away and climbed out of bed, reaching for a silky robe that enhanced every perfect curve and made me want to fuck her all over again. “Why don’t you get dressed? As soon as she’s gone, we’ll get out of here.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere but here,” she grimaced, and then stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  I pulled myself out of bed, groaning a little at the sore muscles from the night before. Feeling like something was definitely still a little off. Sophie was clearly jumpy, and that rattled me. I pulled on my jeans and had just grabbed my t-shirt when I heard a woman’s voice out in the living room.

  “Oh, Sophie, thank goodness you’re here. I know things have been weird, but—”

  “Alyssa, what are you doing here?”

  Sophie’s voice sounded completely shocked. Who the fuck was Alyssa? Why did that name sound familiar?

  Alyssa continued on in kind of a small, cutesy voice. One of those voices that sounded obnoxiously child-like. Voices like that drove me fucking batty. “—and I know this may be a touch indelicate, but… Sophie, I think he’s getting tired of me…”

  “What are you talking about?” I heard Sophie ask.

  “Richard, he just… he seems to be losing interest. I think maybe he still wants you and… oh, God, I’m losing my chance with him.”

  Richard? Sophie’s ex? I thought back to a conversation with Sophie, back when she’d gotten her nose pierced. And it hit me. Alyssa was Sophie’s friend that had slept with Richard. I couldn’t even grasp the oddity of this conversation.

  “Wait, what?” Sophie sounded as mystified as I was. “Let me get this straight…you think your boyfriend, my ex-fiancé, the same man you were sleeping with when you knew he was engaged to me, is losing interest in you.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “And you’re telling me because?”

  “I thought maybe you could give me some advice since you dated him so long.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my shirt and headed for the living room.

  “Jesus, are you on crack?” Sophie and Alyssa whirled around to see me storming bare-chested out of Sophie’s bedroom.

  “Brannon,” Sophie gasped, “your shirt.”

  “Sophie,” Alyssa squeaked, “who is this man?” She wrinkled her nose at me like I’d just crawled out of the gutter.

  Sophie didn’t seem to know how to respond. “Um…”

  And that did nothing to cool my temper. In fact, as unsettled as I had already felt, I was quickly becoming pretty fucking pissed off.

  “I mean, look at him,” Alyssa said, clearly appalled. “What would he be doing in your apartment without a shirt on?”

  Sophie looked back and forth between Aly
ssa and I, full-blown panic in her eyes. “He, um…” she stammered.

  “Is he a maintenance man or something? Don’t they make them wear uniforms? I thought your parents paid top dollar for this place, and the maintenance men don’t even wear uniforms?”

  I glared at Alyssa. “I’m not a maintenance man.”

  But she continued on like I hadn’t even spoken. “Oh, do you have a leaky pipe or something? That might explain why he didn’t have a shirt on… if it had gotten wet or something.” She eyed Sophie’s little silky robe and her voice became hushed. Scandalized. “But, Sophie, shouldn’t you dress a little more appropriately when the maintenance man is here?”

  “I’m not a maintenance man,” I growled again.

  Sophie stood there gasping for breath, her eyes vivid with trepidation. “He’s… well… don’t tell my mother.”

  As if on cue, a snooty, uptight voice spoke from the open door. “Don’t tell your mother what?”

  “Mother!” Sophie squeaked.

  “Good heavens, Sophia,” her mother spat, “you’re standing there half naked with the front door wide open.” She reached behind her to close the door firmly and then turned to frown at Sophie.

  “Oh, God,” Sophie gasped, and she glanced back at me again, moving her mouth like she was trying to talk, but simply couldn’t figure out what to say. It was that motion that brought her mother’s attention to me.

  “Oh, is this the new maintenance man?” Sophie’s mother spoke towards her shocked daughter, but stared down her nose at me. “I thought you were supposed to wear uniforms. My God, you don’t even have a shirt on. And tattoos? Piercings? This is simply disgraceful. I’m going to have a talk with the super.”

  “Mother, wait,” Sophie stepped towards her, but I’d had it. I was at the end of my rope, so I figured I may as well hang myself.

  “I’m not a fucking maintenance man!” I shouted.

  “Young man, there’s no need for that kind of language.” she turned to Sophie. “Who is this rude wastrel?”

  “A wastrel?” I echoed, then shot a dark look at the cold, austere woman. “Who the fuck says ‘wastrel’?”

  “Well, I never,” Sophie’s mother gasped, looking away and seeing Alyssa standing there. “Oh good grief, Alyssa, too, Sophia? You know she’s after Richard.”

  “Mother, I broke up with Richard,” Sophie murmured, her face a perfect reflection of her complete shock. Her panic at the inability to control this situation. Her confusion and inner conflict.

  “And Richard will surely be horrified by this… this… trash in your apartment. Put your shirt on,” she sneered in my direction and crossed over to her daughter, pointing back at me. “Sophia, who is this ruffian?”

  Sophie’s breathing had become erratic. Her face was flushed. “He, um…”

  It suddenly hit me. She was embarrassed by me. Ashamed of me. Trying to figure out what someone like me would be doing here. Me with my tattoos and piercings. Me with my obvious blue-collar vibe that had everyone thinking I was a fucking maintenance man.

  And, while I knew in my heart I could be overreacting, that realization pissed me off.

  “Yeah, Sophie,” I growled, “who am I?”

  “He’s…” she stuttered, looking at her mother, back to me, over to Alyssa, then back to me again, “well, he’s… a mechanic.”

  A fucking mechanic? I’ve been banging her hard core for the last couple months, and she seriously just introduced me as a mechanic.

  “A mechanic?” Sophie’s mother screeched. “Is something wrong with the BMW? Because this boy,” she looked at me and wrinkled her nose with distaste, “doesn’t look remotely qualified to even touch a luxury vehicle like that. We will just have it shipped to the dealer in Bozeman.”

  Sophie shook her head. “There’s nothing wrong with the BMW, Mother.”

  “Well, then,” her mother spit back, “what is this mechanic doing in your apartment?”

  “Well, um…” Sophie looked back over at me, her eyes pleading for understanding. But I was so far gone. I just couldn’t give her that at the moment.

  “Leaving,” I replied and turned to head towards the door. I wasn’t sure what I felt except that I knew I was furious. I was angry at Sophie. I was angry at her mom and her one-time-BFF.

  But I was truly fucking pissed as hell at society as a whole for shoving me back down the social ladder. For making me feel like trash.

  “Just a second, please,” I heard Sophie desperately tell her mother and Alyssa. Her footsteps sounded behind me as I reached for the door handle. “Brannon, wait.”

  I whirled around, fuming. “For what, Sophie?”

  “Don’t be mad, please,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Please, Bran.”

  I stalked back to her and glared down at her. “Don’t be mad? Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck was that, Sophie? You’ve told me countless times that you want to get away from that. You just had the opportunity of a fucking lifetime.”

  “Oh my,” Sophie’s mother gasped from the living room. “What a horrid young man.”

  “I can’t tell them,” she whispered as tears began to gather in her eyes, “not yet. They just… they won’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do either,” I balked, making no attempt to keep my voice down. I closed in on her, forcing her to retreat up against the wall. My voice lowered to a harsh rumble. “I fucking told you I loved you.”

  “But do you?” she asked in a hushed sob. “Or was that just because of Pauline and Laura last night?”

  “What the fuck?” I was flabbergasted. That’s what she thought? That it was an empty platitude? “How does your mind come up with this shit?”

  “You said it once… just one time in the middle of sex after a really crappy night. A lot of bullshit can come out of a person in the middle of sex. So how do I know it wasn’t a line? How do I know you meant it?”

  “Of course I meant it,” I snapped.

  “Then why didn’t you answer me when I asked you about it?” she snapped back in a low tone. “Instead of talking to me, you distracted me. You fucked me. And now you’re mad at me for not believing you?”

  “Sophia,” her mother’s shrill voice rang down the hallway, “are you about done out there because we have to discuss this outrageous situation!”

  “Just a minute, Mother,” Sophie pleaded.

  “Back the fuck off,” I snapped as I scowled at the nasty woman.

  “That’s it,” Sophie’s mother gasped, raising her nose in the air as she reached for her phone. “I’m calling the authorities.”

  “Brannon,” she whispered, “please, this is going to be hard enough to smooth out as it is.”

  “So don’t smooth it, Sophie,” I snarled. “Fight back.”

  “And then what?” she asked in a quiet desperation. “Brannon, my parents support me. They pay my rent, my bills, everything. I can’t just drop a bomb like that on them. They’d disown me. I’d be homeless.”

  “Then let me help you,” I said forcefully, grabbing her shoulders in a bruising grip. “You can stay with me, at my place. I’ll do—”

  “But what do I do,” she interrupted, “when the novelty wears off?”

  That stopped me cold. The novelty? This was a novelty?

  “Brannon, right now, whatever this is between us is all new and wonderful.” A thick tear broke free from her eyes and trickled down her cheek. “And one night, in the midst of wild sex, you say you love me. But I’m not an idiot. Everything will go to shit sooner or later, and you know that as well as I do.”

  “Fuck me, Sophie,” I gaped. “Are you serious?”

  “I know exactly what I am. It’s like Pauline and Laura said. I’m hot and rich. I’m a pretty face. But I’m no better than the rest of them. And everyone knows I won’t hold your attention for long.”

  I was simply shocked by what Sophie was saying, by how she felt. I felt like something had short-circuited in my head. This had seemed so much more
than that to me. She had seemed like so much more to me.

  But she was making it very clear. It was temporary. A dalliance.

  She had no fucking faith in me. No faith in us.

  “Sophia,” her mother’s abrasive voice screeched towards the front door.

  “Your mother is calling,” I coldly uttered as I slipped my shirt over my head, “so you should go. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  “Bran—” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “Go smooth things over, Sophie,” I said, opening the door to head down the hall. A few feet away from her, I glanced back over my shoulder. “Just let me know what your story is so I know what to expect.”

  She called just over two hours later.

  I let the first one go to voicemail, but she didn’t leave a message.

  I was still pissed and not sure exactly what pissed me off. I should have expected it. I should have seen it coming. She was Sophie Buchanan.

  And I was her plaything.

  So I suppose it pissed me off that I wasn’t more. That all the time we’d spent together hadn’t meant more to her. She’d always pretended it didn’t matter, but it was clear now that she didn’t see us going anywhere because of our places in the class system.

  So I couldn’t answer the first time she called. Then I sat on the edge of my seat, my heart in my throat, waiting for her to call again. About forty minutes after the first call, she did. This time I answered.

  “Hey,” I said, accepting the call.

  “Hi,” she softly replied. Then quiet.

  I clenched my teeth and felt the passage of time. I felt the silence cutting my insides to ribbons. Was this it? Was this the end that she had prophesized?

  “Brannon, I’m so sorry about all that this morning,” she finally said. “With my mother and Alyssa.”

  “Did you get things sorted out?” I asked with a cool calm. A calm I definitely didn’t feel. My heart was racing. I’d broken out into a cold sweat and could barely breathe. Had she told them the truth?

  “I told them that I knew you,” she whispered. “That we were… friends.”