Well done Eden

Eden

The BMW's engine hummed low as I pulled through the mansion gates, Daniel’s release still sticky on my inner thighs. My cheeks burned remembering how roughly he’d taken me against that car, how his thick cock had stretched me until I saw stars. I shouldn’t crave an older man’s dominance, but fuck, the way he’d fisted my hair and growled “Mine” while spilling his seed inside me… My nipples tightened at the memory.

I went inside the house; the marble floors chilled my bare soles. I’d left my heels in the car along with my pride. Lilian’s new home felt judgmental, but I didn’t care. Not tonight. I went upstairs and found my room and went straight to the shower; blistering water pounded my skin as I scrubbed at his scent, his musk, his sweat, and the raw essence of him. It wouldn’t wash off. My core clenched, aching for the phantom fullness of his cock splitting me open again.

I collapsed into bed, sleep pulling me under. Dreams were filthy flashes: his calloused hands pinning my wrists, his gruff voice ordering, “Don’t fight it,” and the wet slap of our bodies colliding. I woke hours later with my fingers slick, shame and desire warring in my gut. One night. Just a mistake, and I woke up soaked? Fuck!

I knew I needed him again; my body knew that too.

First night in New York City, where I was supposed to spend time with my mother, I already fucked up; I just fucked a man in the fucking parking lot! How horny can I get? A man old enough to be my father! Well, Eden, well done! I didn’t even know the city yet; I didn’t know the streets or the names of the buildings or where the hell I was supposed to belong in all of this. But I knew the way his hands felt. I knew the sound he made when he came. And I knew the heat still stuck to my skin even though it had been hours.

Daniel is older and confident. A man who knew exactly how dangerous he was and somehow made me feel like it was my fault for not resisting.

It was supposed to be nothing. A one-night mistake in a city full of strangers. A warm body to erase the coldness of this weird, brittle new life. I didn’t even get his number. I didn’t even want one at the time. And now here I am, gripping the steering wheel of Lilian’s BMW like it might stop my brain from spinning off into space.

When I got to the mansion, the guards opened the gate without a word. They just nod, like this was normal, like I was normal. I drove in, headlights sweeping across the perfect landscaping, every inch manicured and soulless. The mansion loomed up like it wanted to judge me.

I parked the car and killed the engine. For a second, I just sat there in the dark.

What kind of girl does that? First night in a new city, and I sleep with some random older guy I met in a club. I don’t even like older men. I never have. They usually make my skin crawl.

But Daniel wasn’t like that. He didn’t feel old. He felt… sure. He didn’t act like someone trying to impress me. He didn’t ask stupid questions. He just looked at me like he’d already undressed me in his head and decided I was worth the trouble.

And I let him.

I let him.

God, I can still feel his cock stretching my walls!

I went straight to my room, eyes on the floor, body humming with a shame I couldn’t shake off. I closed the door behind me and stripped out of my clothes like they were covered in smoke and headed to the shower and put on some hot water. I wanted to scrub every second of tonight off of me, but it wouldn’t budge. His touch was still there. My legs still remembered how they shook.

I dried off, pulled on a t-shirt, and collapsed into bed. The room was too clean. The sheets were too soft.

The morning felt fake. I hadn’t dreamed, or if I had, it was just flashes of his mouth, his voice, his hands, and me, making noises I didn’t recognize.

“Sweetie, wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

Lilian’s voice floated through the door like we were in a sitcom. I groaned. My body didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to see anyone.

I eventually dragged myself up and into the shower again, like the first one hadn’t done the job.

This time, I showered slower. Quieter, just me standing under the water, letting the images flood back in like I’d opened the floodgates.

His hips. His groan. My name on his lips.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

I hated that I wanted more.

I dried off again, threw on jeans and a t-shirt, and padded downstairs like a zombie. Lilian was already at the table, sipping tea like she’d been born in a magazine spread.

“I hear you came back late last night,” she said, not even looking at me.

I shrugged. “Yeah. Lost track of time.”

Her eyes flicked up. They always did that when she was trying to read me like a report card. I didn’t give her anything to grade.

“Did you enjoy your first day in New York City?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. We weren’t close. We never had been. Lilian was more business partner than mother, too polished, too detached. I gave her a nod. That was all she was getting.

But then I asked the question. I don’t even know why I said it.

“Where’s your husband? Daniel?”

I watched her, and I saw it; just for a second, something flickered across her face.

“He left early for work,” she said.

Too smooth, too fast. So I nodded, pretending to believe her.

But I didn’t. Since I got here, I haven't met the man she married; that's why I asked.

The name Daniel makes my panties wet; I guess there is something mother-and-daughter love about that name. My mom is married to a Daniel, and I fucked a Daniel last night. The apple doesn't fall far from its tree.

Still, the mention of that name makes my skin prickle because my brain was already wired to that name, to last night, like an echo I couldn’t silence.

I sat down, but I didn’t taste anything. I just sat there, chewing nothing, trying not to let my mind wander back to that parking lot and to him. To the way he said goodbye like he hadn’t meant it.

Lilian went on with her tea like nothing had happened. After breakfast, I went to my room, half hoping Daniel would text me and half terrified that he actually would. I turned my phone screen on every fifteen minutes like a desperate idiot, even though there was no number to wait for. I didn’t even know how to find him. And that should have been the end of it. One night. One mistake.

I replayed everything in my head again, over and over. The way he looked at me when we met at the bar. He didn’t look shocked or awkward. He looked like a man who knew exactly what he was doing, and I liked it, maybe too much.

My skin itched with anxiety. I couldn’t sit still. I wandered around the mansion like a ghost, pretending I was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

By the time the sky started darkening again, I felt like I hadn’t moved at all.

I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, just staring. I didn’t look like someone who was spiraling. I looked fine. Maybe a little tired but normal.

Which was almost worse because nothing about this was normal. I splashed cold water on my face and sat on the edge of the tub, my heart pounding like something awful was waiting to happen.

I didn’t want it to be a one-time thing, and I hated that.

I had this feeling, this certainty, that I was going to see him again. Not because I believed in fate or signs or whatever Lilian’s therapist books would call it. Just because he felt unfinished and that scared me more than anything.