Regret

I disentangle myself slowly from Sarah's embrace, her body **** to release me, legs sliding away with a soft sigh that ghosts across my skin. She watches me through heavy-lidded eyes, a faint smile curving her lips as she stretches languidly on the couch, her curves illuminated by the lamp's warm glow. The air hangs thick with the musk of our joining, and for a moment I hesitate, the guilt twisting sharper in my gut. I reach out, brushing a damp strand of red hair from her forehead, my thumb lingering on the flush of her cheek.

"You were perfect," she murmurs, her voice husky and content, one hand trailing down her thigh as if to trace the echoes of my touch. But there is no spark of true agency in it, just the programmed devotion I **** into her veins, and it sours everything. I nod, forcing a smile, and rise to my feet, the cool air raising gooseflesh on my sweat-damp skin. My jeans lie discarded in a heap by the coffee table, alongside her discarded panties, a stark reminder of how easily I fell into this.

I dress quickly, the zipper's rasp too loud in the quiet room, while Sarah props herself on an elbow, her breasts shifting with the movement, nipples still dusky from my attention. "Stay," she says softly, but I shake my head, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

"Not tonight," I reply, my voice low. Earlier, before the haze took over, I had asked about her day, the mundane details of steaming lattes and dodging rude customers, trying to remind myself she was more than a vessel. Now, her story feels distant, overshadowed by the mess I have made. "Rest. I will see you soon."

She nods obediently, curling into the cushions as I grab my phone from the table. The screen lights up with the app's persistent overlay, but I swipe it away, thumb hovering over Elena's contact. My heart knocks against my ribs, the weight of her hurt etched in my memory like a fresh scar. What can I say? The truth would shatter everything, the app, the harem, this fragile power I have claimed. So I type simply, keeping it light, open, a bridge over the chasm I have dug. "Hey. Miss you already. Can I see you tomorrow?" I hit send before second thoughts can swarm, watching the message deliver with a soft whoosh.

No immediate reply, just the three dancing dots of uncertainty, then nothing. I pocket the phone, the silence heavier than any notification, and slip out the door, the lock clicking softly behind me. The hallway stretches dim and empty, the faint scent of Sarah's vanilla lingering on my clothes like an accusation. Back in my apartment, the emptiness greets me. Tessa's absence is a deliberate void I enforced, the counters spotless from her morning attentions. I sink onto the couch, staring at the ceiling, Elena's note from days ago crumpled in the nightstand drawer. The app hums faintly against my thigh, urging expansion, but for the first time it feels like a leash tightening around my own choices.