“Mia, go home,” he repeated.

“You want me to go?” she asked, leaning further into him, pressing her tits into his chest.

He instantly pulled back.

Her eyes narrowed and she shot out a hand to cup his crotch.

She barely got her hand on him before he moved his between them. Wrapping his fingers around her wrist, he yanked it away, listening to her surprised cry when he used precisely the strength he intended, making the hold he had on her bite just enough to make a point.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?” he asked.

“Merry,” she whispered, twisting her hand in his hold to try to get away, uncertainty in her features now.

He jerked her forward and she gave another surprised cry as he bent to get in her face.

“Listen to me,” he growled. “You do not ever come here again. You sell that house. You pack your bags. You get your ass to Bloomington. And you forget I exist.”

She looked into his eyes, the uncertainty gone, the training he’d given her that she owned his dick and could lead him around by it shining from them now. “You don’t mean that.”

“You have another man’s ring on your finger,” he reminded her.

“Like that means anything to you,” she retorted.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staring into her eyes. “Do you not know me at all?”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I know you better than you know you, baby.”

He used her wrist to give her a slight shake, and her eyes shot back up to his. “No, bitch,” he bit out. “You don’t. You wanna come and play and you made no promises that a man’s countin’ on to live the future he’s got mapped out with you, that’s one thing. This shit…it’s another. You wanna be that cunt who fucks over her guy, have at it. But you’re not usin’ me to get you off playin’ your games.”

“If it’s that big a deal to you, Merry, while you fuck me, I’ll take his ring off,” she offered.

Fucking bitch.

How the fuck had he not seen this before?

She came to him. It wasn’t rare; it wasn’t frequent.

But she came to him when she’d had a bad day…“and I just want to be with you, Merry.” Or when she’d had a go ’round with her mom…“and no one will get it like you, Merry.” Or when she felt…“we need to talk, Merry.”

What she needed was to fuck, for someone to get her off like, apparently, no one else could, and it took her little time to talk him around to that mostly because she’d put her hands or mouth on him and they wouldn’t talk at all.

He didn’t comfort her. He didn’t listen to her.

And most of the time, she’d be gone before he woke, or he’d lie in bed, watching her dress and listening to her say, “Gotta go, baby. I’ll call you.”

She wouldn’t call.