Kendall Ryan - When I Break

She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting around the faces in the group. I couldn’t help but notice she deliberately avoided looking my way. Apparently I rattled her and she needed her composure to continue the meeting.

How did I become dependent on sex? I wasn’t sure I could pinpoint when it happened, but sure, I used sex to numb my pain and manage stress. Listening to McKenna, I was starting to believe that maybe it wasn’t totally normal.

“Over time, people develop a tolerance for sex. They need more and more of it to feel okay, and they experience withdrawal if they can’t have it. Eventually, it can destroy your relationships—your marriage, your job. I know we’ve previously talked about being fired for looking at Internet porn at work, or marriages ending when a spouse discovered an affair. Your risky behaviors put you in danger for contracting a life-threatening STD. Or put you in debt, paying for strip clubs and prostitutes. None of these things lead to good outcomes. Can anyone share some of the techniques they’ve developed to work through their cravings?”

Shit. She actually wanted people to share how they avoided sex? It would be more useful to share techniques on how I seduced girls from nightclubs, coffee shops, the grocery store, or how to fuck standing up in a tiny bathroom stall. Doggie style. It was really the only option.

A timid girl directly across from me cleared her throat. “I count backward from ten and practice deep, calming breaths.”

“That’s great, Mia. Anyone else?” McKenna asked, looking straight at me this time.

I wasn’t saying shit.

Watching McKenna was hypnotic. After our last little exchange, I hadn’t been able to get her out of my mind, and seeing her in person, I completely got why. She was soft and pretty. Her voice was light, clear, and appealing. Listening to her and watching the way her mouth moved around her words penetrated my walls, reached deep inside me and went straight to my dick. I had no idea why she’d have such a profound effect on me—unless it was a simple case of wanting what I couldn’t have. I wanted to unbutton her white shirt, push it open, and rub my fingertips over her nipples until she sucked in a deep, shuddery breath. I wanted to see what kind of panties she wore and break down her walls, like she was doing to me.

Holy shit. Maybe I did have a problem. I was sitting in a sex addicts meeting with a hard-on. I was pretty sure that couldn’t be filed under N for normal.

But shit, I wasn’t like these people. Was I? The fucking jackass next to me was dressed in sweatpants with a hole in the crotch, and he’d just spent twenty minutes confessing about how he’d jacked off in the car to porn downloaded on his phone before coming into the meeting. I scooted my chair farther away from him and caught a glare from McKenna.

McKenna continued providing prompts in the conversation and several more people opened up. By the time the hour was up, I knew far more about the people sitting around me than I wanted to.

A few group members still lingered as I approached McKenna at the front of the room, where she was leaning against a table near the window. I wondered if she was going to chastise me for not talking again.

“Still afraid to open up?” she asked, peeking up at me through thick lashes.

I wasn’t afraid, but I knew what she was trying to do. She wanted to goad me into talking.

“I don’t like this sharing bullshit in the group. I’m not saying I won’t talk to you—I will. Me and you. Someplace else. Private.”

She narrowed her eyes, searching mine. “You think you’re the first guy in this group to hit on me? Not by a long shot. I’m here to do a job, Knox. That’s all.”

I chuckled. She thought I was asking her out? That was ridiculous; I didn’t take girls out.

“Don’t judge me. You and your charmed life you lead—you don’t know anything about my life, sweetheart. And P.S. I’m here because I choose to be here.”

“McKenna?” a tall, lanky guy called out from the doorway. “Everything okay?”

I looked his way, noting that I hadn’t seen him in the group before, yet he seemed pretty familiar with McKenna.

“Brian? What are you doing here?”

“I thought you might like a ride home. Is everything all right?” His gaze moved between me and her, his expression radiating concern.

McKenna swallowed and glanced at me before answering. “It’s fine.” She nodded. “And I told you, I’m fine taking the bus.”

“Are you sure?”

McKenna fixed her friend with an icy stare, sending her message loud and clear without words.

“Okay,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you at home later.”

“’Bye, Brian.”

Brian nodded and left reluctantly, leaving McKenna and me alone once again.

When she turned to face me again, I could see judgment written all over her pretty face. I was beneath her. She’d labeled me and stuck me in some damn box. Hell, I knew I wasn’t good enough for a girl like her, but I hadn’t expected for her to actually call me out on it.

I fixed a sneer on my face. “Better go get home safe and sound, away from all us fuck-ups, McKenna.” Then I turned for the door and strode away.

McKenna

I could not have handled that worse. I hated the idea that I’d offended Knox; that was never my intention. Maybe he’d been serious about opening up one-on-one with me—perhaps it hadn’t been a pick-up line at all. And I’d overreacted. Horribly. A sour pit sank low in my stomach and settled there.

I noticed a small leather-bound notebook resting against the desktop where Knox had been leaning. Crossing the room to retrieve the book, I wondered if there was a way to find him, to apologize and return his journal. I should have just waited to return it to him next Saturday, assuming he came back, but I knew that wasn’t what I wanted.

This group was supposed to be anonymous, but Knox gave his last name at the first meeting—Bauer. And his first name wasn’t all that common, so perhaps I’d have some luck finding him. I pulled out my smartphone and typed his name into Google: Knox Bauer + Chicago, and was rewarded with an address. A home in the South Loop, not too far from where I lived.

Since I hadn’t yet gotten around to buying a car, I took the city bus to a stop that would let me off two blocks from his neighborhood. Along the way, my mind drifted to Brian and the overprotective nature he’d been exhibiting lately. I knew I needed to have a talk with him soon.

After moving to Chicago, Brian had interviewed at several accounting firms in the city and quickly got multiple offers. He insisted that he wouldn’t have me living by myself in a strange city, and changed his entire career plan for me. Living here alone was part of the appeal, but of course I hadn’t argued. I had someone to hang out with Friday nights or go to the Laundromat with on Sundays. It was nice. And he was someone steady I could rely on. I couldn’t really complain; he looked after me and I wasn’t naive enough to think that a young girl alone in the city didn’t need a friend.

Of course there was a chance he might read things wrong between us if we lived together. Sometimes the way he looked at me for too long made me wonder if he and I were on the same page about our friends-only relationship status. But he’d insisted, and I hadn’t refused, even though I knew I’d never reciprocate any deeper feelings he might have. Maybe he was too safe a choice—he wasn’t broken—there was nothing for me to fix, so he held no appeal. But either way, I just wasn’t attracted to him that way.