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But the truth was he wasn’t forcing me in to anything. I wasn’t in chains. There was a car outside waiting to take me home if that was my choice. I had a choice.
Except according to my heart, or maybe my vagina, I didn’t.
“What else?” I bit out, hating him, hating myself.
“I will not fall in love with you,” he deadpanned.
I blinked.
“Women tend to be romantic,” Jay added, tilting his head ever so slightly. “They tend to think that things might change in time. That I might change in time. I will not. I urge you not to make the mistake of thinking any different.”
There it was. More truth laid out for me. Making it crystal clear what I was in for.
“Okay,” I bit out. “What else?”
“That should be all,” he said.
Yes, that was all. Just changing the entire structure of my life, the makeup of the hormones in my body, making sure that no other man came near me and telling me he’d never develop feelings for me no matter how long he had me in his bed.
That was all.
“What, no safe words?” I joked. Or half joked. I hadn’t even seen him naked yet, but my gut said I needed a safe word. I sensed that I might get too deep in this, that I’d need some kind of word that served as a safety net.
Jay’s stare was granite. His gaze was a black abyss that had already swallowed me up. “You don’t need a safe word. I know what you need. What you can handle.”
The hairs on my arms stood up. Not because he seemed so sure, but because I suspected he was right.
“You barely know me,” I argued.
Jay didn’t answer, didn’t try to offer up reasons, words. There were none. There was no way to describe this connection between us. Truthfully, I was glad for that. Something inside me knew that hearing him explain the ineffable link between us out loud would be ugly, twisted. What we shared was not some kind of love at first sight thing. It wasn’t something happy, light. No fireworks. It was dark shadows he’d coaxed out of me in the limited time I’d been in his presence. It was this feeling that made no sense, this connection that shouldn’t exist.
“We’ll start next week,” Jay declared, looking back to his computer.
I gaped, my body silently crying out in protest, with need. I was tense, so turned on, so pent up I could cry. Literally cry.
“Next week?” I repeated. “But what about—”
“The fact that your pussy is hungry, fucking starving for me?” he finished for me. “You’re going to have to deal with it.” He looked up at me again, assessing. Evaluating me. “And don’t even think about trying to take care of yourself when you get home. Your body is mine now. You don’t come without my permission.”
His watch glinted in the light as he moved his arm slightly. His hands were perfection. They were the kind of hands you wanted all over your body. The kind of hands that give intense pleasure or pain. His irises glinted almost the same was as his watch had. Twinkling in the light, coaxing me further into his world.
I blinked. There was so much wrong with those words. Ignoring the fact that they were spoken with pure sex dripping off every single letter. My body was mine. Countless women before me had fought to claim agency and possession of our bodies, snatching them away from men who’d thought they’d had the right to them.
Just a few, brief meetings, yet Jay made it clear that he thought he had the right to my body.
Yes, it was simply sickening. Repulsive.
Or it should’ve been.
But it wasn’t.
The way he looked at me inexplicably made me feel more like a woman than I had in my entire life. Made me feel stronger when everything about this should’ve made me feel weaker. I was struggling to catch my breath when every inhale was breath saturated in Jay’s scent, every moment torture without knowing I’d eventually be his. That was the truth, the simple truth. I wanted to be his.
I didn’t argue on that point. Or any of the others that he laid out.
Instead, I listened, agreed and essentially signed my life away to the devil.
Letting her leave without his cum dripping down her legs had taken effort. Considerable effort. He’d forced himself to put the desk between them because he didn’t trust himself without it.
Fuck, if the thing didn’t weigh three hundred pounds, he would’ve tossed it across the room in order to get to her. To take her on the fucking floor.
He’d never felt like that with the others.
Sure, he’d wanted to fuck them. It excited him watching them bend to his will. He enjoyed the weekends.
But he never thought of them during the five days he spent without them. He used them for the events he required them for, fucked them and then eventually tired of them.
