I took the piece of cucumber out of my pocket and nipped the end off so it matched the size of Kirby’s mouth before placing it on the pillow beside her head. This may actually have worked out better than I could’ve planned.

Heading to the door, I paused when I reached the opening and drummed my fingers on the knife. It felt comforting as I touched it.

“Remember, Kirby, you’re mine now, and you better not forget it.” I smiled as I backed out into the hallway. “Or the next lesson won’t be as much fun for you.

Chapter 16

KIRBY

There are some things in life you wish you could unsee and others you wish you could remember, but to the best of my knowledge, I’d never experienced both conundrums in the same breath. That managed to happen this morning. My head felt like it was going to split into two, I had a wildly erotic dream about the guy with the Joker tattoo, and I still had no words for the fucked-up argument that ensued when Peter woke up screaming, ‘get it out of my ass.’ Words I can honestly say I never thought I’d wake up to, let alone hear from him.

“Are you not enjoying the cucumber salad, Peter?” Mrs. Cunningham said.

I choked on the mouthful of salad I was swallowing, and Peter glared at me. His sister-in-law, Michelle, patted my back until I dislodged the stuck piece of vegetable. Thanks for helping Peter.

“I’m just not that hungry this morning, is all,” Peter said to his mother and winced as he leaned forward to grab his mimosa.

My coughing became worse as I tried not to laugh and covered my mouth. I could feel my face turning red as everyone stared at me.

“Is she going to be alright,” his mother asked Peter, ignoring me like I was not a few seats away and not supposed to be part of the family. Not that it mattered.

I was ending things. The more I thought about it, the better I felt.

And if I had any second thoughts, they’d been wiped away after the strange dream I had last night. I crossed my legs under the table as the searing memory of the best sex I’d ever experienced flashed through my mind. The sad part was that the sex came from a dream or fantasy or something, but it certainly wasn’t Peter. The dried come all over my back was his, but nothing else was. He’d never made me feel a fraction of what the dream had. Not even when putting forth his best effort. Adding insult to injury, after Peter screamed at me to take the cucumber out of his ass, he said I was a bitch for putting it there. His accusation most certainly had sealed the deal.