UNSPANKED
Gabe
Five minutes, then I’m leaving, even if it is my home.
With her hands parked on her hips, and her gray eyes shooting death rays ofshame, shame, shameat me, my ex’s pissy big sister is building up a new head of steam. “Do you know how distraught my sister was by your freakish suggestion?” Jessica rants, pointing at the box of Brittany’s stuff on the coffee table.
Of course I know. Everyone in my condo building knows, thanks to Brittany’s ear-splitting outrage at my suggestion.Hell no, I don’t want you to spank me, you freak!
But I’m not going to engage now because I want my ex’s sister to get the hell out of my pad. At this rip-me-to-shreds rate, I’m going to be late for poker and my buds will bust my balls.
“Honestly, I expected more of you,” Jessica hisses, spewing more judgment at me. “You’re an adult. You should behave like a gentleman.”
“And your sister is a grown woman who said no and left hereunspanked,” I say calmly, adding with a fake-ass smile, “So feel free to take her box and go.”
Iwantedto sayget the fuck out, but I didn’t. See? I am a gentleman.
Jessica grinds the spikes of her sling-back heels into my hardwood floor and glares at me, waggling a long black nail. “You should be ashamed.”
“Britt made that quite clear,” I say drily. My phone buzzes on the coffee table. It’s probably Drew, docking points for me being late. I deserve that.
“You’re thirty-six,” Jessica spews. “Thirty-six-year-old men don’t ask to spank their girlfriends.”
I could beg to differ. I could also point out all the shitty things Brittany said to me while we were together, but instead, I grab the box and thrust it at her sister, hustling her toward the door. “Thanks for coming by. Here’s the last of Brittany’s things. Her poodle mug, her comfort-food cookbook, and her favorite spatula,” I say.
“Good. I’m going to cook with her tonight to make her feel better.” She snatches the box. “She’s still devastated by your outrageous request.”
Jessica takes the box, then gasps, dropping it like it’s on fire. “Ew! So gross.”
“What?” I ask, eager to deal with her issue so I can get on with my evening.
With her mouth gaping, she points like the box is infected with…a spider? A snake?
I cross a few feet to the open box, then groan, annoyed when I see the issue.
A pair of silver gleaming handcuffs.
Jessica plucks the handcuffs out of the box with two disgusted fingers. “Brittany willnotwant these. You’re just embarrassing yourself!”
Embarrassed is right, but not for the reasons Jessica thinks.
Embarrassed because I’d bought these to give Brittany for her birthday coming up. I even got a pink bow to tie around them. I’d been gearing up, too, to finally tell her why I wanted to play around with handcuffs. What I hoped it could do for us. How it might even help our relationship.
So, yeah, Jessica’s tirade feels so fucking great right now.
“The cuffs can stay then,” I say evenly. I don’t want to let on that she’s hitting below the belt. Taking the cuffs, I drop them on the entryway table.
Jessica raises an eyebrow all the way to Mars. “You’re keeping them? For what? The freak of your dreams?”
That’s enough. I march ahead of her and swing open the door, then gesture to the hall. Somehow, I swallow down aleave right fucking now.
“Goodbye,” I hiss.
She lifts a haughty chin. “Handcuffs,” she mutters.
I bet someone will love them, I want to shout.
But I don’t.