Been a while...

“Bruce? Baby? Would you hand me a towel? Please? I’m a mess and I just can’t… move…”

Bruce withdrew his spent cock from Paige’s sopping wet hole and stood, going over to an armoire containing several sets of folded bedding. He removed a towel and tossed it to Paige, who weakly caught it out of the air and wiped herself off.

Bruce was still a bit surprised with himself. Paige Monroe had been the biggest model in the world when he was younger. And he’d fucked her. “Are you alright, dear?” he asked, going to sit down next to her.

Silence across the bed. Bruce took hold of the towel, stopping Paige from using it to wipe off her sweaty, cum-stained body. “Paige? What’s wrong?”

Paige could say nothing. Then, as if the flood of emotions had overflowed her mind, she started to sob. Quietly at first, and then louder, until her body started to shake. “No, it won’t work, I won’t work. You’re married. You have Ivy and Harley and—how can we be lovers?”

“Paige,” Bruce responded. “We just were.”

“But I want to love you.”

“You just did,” Bruce said, more confused than exasperated.

“But what about Harley, and Ivy? They’re your wives.”

“Of course. And I love them just like I love you.”

“And you would really want me when you could have them?”

“I want all of you.”

“I don’t want to be like Harley, locked in a cage at night—“

“That’s what’s right for Harley. It’s what she likes.”

“I couldn’t be one of your whores. I’d want you to—really love me. I don’t know if anyone’s ever really loved me, not just for my looks—they all left when my looks went and now I have them again, you gave them back, but… is that what you want? Just my beauty?”

“I want to make you better. Like I’m trying to be better. We all have damage, but maybe together…” Bruce shook his head. “I don’t know. Lately, I’ve been feeling a kind of peace. Putting Harley in that cage might’ve seemed cool, but it quiets the voices in her head. And I feel like some of that rest is mine, like the healthier she is, the healthier I am. Does that make any sense?”

“She’s a part of you.” Paige smiled sadly. “I’d like to be a part of you.”

“Then marry me. Let me help you. I’ve been putting your feelers through my magazine divisions—there are plenty of people who’d love to have you back for a shoot. You could start working again, have a career. Would you like that?”