Ground Line Hitch It felt like Lisbon. The night Emma had been mugged on the street, when they&rsquo

Ground Line Hitch It felt like Lisbon. The night Emma had been mugged on the street, when they’d wandered for half an hour across cobblestones and past cafes, feeling like they’d both been gutpunched at the same time, some absurd double thrust with both fists, thief-cum-WWE wrestler. They’d got back to the hotel and fucked, out of defiance more than anything else, resolute that just because they’d had a shitty experience they weren’t going to let it spoil a weekend of paella and hotel sex. The problem was, Adam knew, that neither of them particularly wanted to do it. They were going through the motions, and even though they’d both come, it was because he knew how to do it to her, and she knew how to do it to them. They were both on autopilot, asleep at the wheel, an orgasm in the physical sense only. And now here he was, in bed with her, and it had that same feeling of frustrated detachment. Only this time it was weirdly one way, as if he was knocking at the door and she was adamant about pretending she wasn’t at home. No, that wasn’t quite right. Wasn’t so much that she wasn’t at home, but that she was pretending she was happy to see him. Well, this is fucked up. Emma must have sensed something was wrong, because she looked up at him, opening those carefully closed eyes, with just enough of a flutter to almost convince him that she was truly enjoying this. Her brow furrowed, creasing as eyebrows curled upwards, and he saw the concern in her eyes. Adam was completely inside her, she was completely tied to the headboard, and the moment had just evaporated as if it had never been there. And they both knew it. “What’s wrong?” The way she asked made it sound like she had an answer in mind. Which only made this even more fucking confusing. “I was about to ask you the same question.” The longer they shared words, the more awkward the situation became, and by the way they were both fidgeting, it was apparent from both sides of the fuck. Adam wanted to withdraw, pull back and roll off her, but there was a weird sense of finality about that. As if he was about to admit that there’d been a fuck up. He didn’t have a chance to, as Emma surged up off the mattress, as much as she could, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Someone had hit the Play button, and the scene had resumed, with just the slightest niggle that something had gone wrong, lodged in the back of his mind. * Emma didn’t quite wake to the smell of coffee floating down the hall, but she did rise to it. She’d woken up before Adam, but kept up the façade a little longer, wanting to hold the moment just in case she suddenly got cold feet. She’d waited for him to get up, sling on some underwear, and disappear in the direction of the kitchen. It was probably best that he had some sort of drug close to hand, even if it was just caffeine. She dressed, put her things in her bag, and set them by the door. Then she wandered into the kitchen, sat at the table, and waited for him to join her. He paused as he saw her posture; the rigid back, the carefully folded hands, the far-off look. She was composed, and Emma was never composed. “So I guess this is the sequel.” Adam stated slowly, before setting himself down on the table. “Sequel?” For a moment the careful veneer cracked, and he saw her easy smile, the pleasant curiosity. “To last night’s conversation. I’ll try the words today. What’s wrong, Eve?” She winced at that. Not exactly the time for pet names. Emma took a breath. “I think this has run its course.” He didn’t say anything. For way too long. She took a longer breath. “I mean, you’re exploring your own stuff, and I’m exploring mine… and I just think we’re going in different directions.” Adam took a sip of coffee, set the mug carefully back down on the coaster. “So it’s a kink thing?” His eyes were narrowed slightly, trying to figure things out. “We’re not quite into the same shit, so we have to split?” “Kind of. I mean, that’s not the only reason, but it’s kind of a big one. And it’s not like I’m unhappy, or things are bad between us, not like that at all, but I just think we’ll both be better if we go our ways.” Emma knew she was moving her hands too much. Her fingertips seemed desperate to tap out a rhythm on her palms. “Ok.” She looked up suddenly, blinked. “What?” “Ok. If that’s how you see it, and that’s what you want. Ok.” He shrugged, took another sip of coffee. She wanted to ask him if he was sure, or why he wasn’t fighting it, but she suddenly realised she wasn’t exactly in the position to do that. Instead she just pursed her lips, trying to think of something to say, something to fill the cloying silence, but all that came to her mind was to echo that pitiful pair of syllables. “Ok.” Adam stood up and forced a smile, before he turned and glanced out of the window, just for something to do. “Well then. Guess I’ll talk to you in a few days, then, once the grace period is up. Would be cool to be friends.” And there it was, just in that last sentence. The tiniest hint of a waver, that his voice might threaten to break. It was so slight that she wasn’t even sure if she’d heard it or just wanted to hear it, but it was enough to make her feel a little better. She stood up and took her leave, muttering a ‘bye’ that was barely even audible, just filled the air with a sense of finality. He turned to look at her once, and then she was out of the door.  -- source link

More pics about