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"I'm free Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday this week," he said. "I hope you can make all four nights."

I shook my head and stood beside him, examining the calendar. "I'm due on Tuesday," I said, touching the date. "It will last until Friday. I can't make Saturday night because this person doesn't work that night. I guess we have to take a week's break."

He shook his head. "I don't like that, Kate," he said, frowning. "Just because you have your period doesn't mean you can't come to me."

"I don't think so," I said, holding my hands up, stepping away from him and his frowning expression. "I have bad cramps and on the day before and first day, I'm what my father calls a hellcat."

"No, I still want you here. You said you had every Tuesday and Thursday for sure and one day on the weekend that you'd always be free so I want you here then if I can't have you on Saturday. Monday as well. I have many techniques guaranteed to tame beasts, hellcats included."

"Drake…"

"Katherine," he said and pulled me against him, but my body was rigid. "You forget, I was married for five years to a woman who had periods. I'm also a doctor, unless you also forgot that fact. I even did a OB/GYN rotation and delivered babies, did C-Sections, cut out uteruses. Why, I even had my whole hand and part of my arm inside a woman delivering a breech twin…"

I made a face and right away, thought about that clause in his contract about vaginal fisting.

"There's no reason to be together if we can't do things," I said, trying to wrestle free from him, but he held me tight, nibbling my neck playfully.

"What do you mean, we can't do things? We can always do things. Besides, a good orgasm will help your PMS and cramps."

"I could never," I said, making a face. "I'm way too uncomfortable. I can't imagine it."

"You can and you will," he said. "Submission, Katherine. It's what I want. I don’t want to be away from you for so long."

"But it's disgusting! Haven't you heard about masturbation?"

"Why should I masturbate when I can have you? You are such a good Catholic girl despite being a socialist…" He reached down to my waist and tickled me.

"I'm not a socialist!" I said, laughing despite myself, squirming in his arms. "I'm not a good Catholic girl. If I was, I’d still be a virgin and wouldn't let you tie me up and fuck me."

"And I'm so glad you're a bad Catholic girl, Kate. If you weren't, I'd die of blue balls."

He chased me around the apartment, and I almost fell on one of his small carpets that slipped beneath my feet when he almost cornered me. He caught me from behind and held me firmly.

"Now, no more arguments about it. I want you here on Tuesday and Thursday. I won't fuck you if you really don't want me to, if it really upsets you that much, but I will make you come and you will make me come. No more arguments."

Finally, I gave in.

I didn't know what to expect when I arrived at the apartment on 8th Avenue that Tuesday night, but it certainly wasn't what I found waiting just inside Drake's door. He was there, dressed in football equipment, elbow and knee pads, shoulder pads, a helmet on and a cup over top of his jeans. In one hand was a bottle of wine.

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"Oh, my God," I said, covering my mouth with a hand, laughing at him. He grinned from ear to ear under the helmet's faceguard grill. He even had a mouthpiece in.

"I thought I'd be prepared for a hellcat," he said, mumbling around the mouthpiece. Then he spit it out. "You don't look too hard to handle."

"You are so bad," I said, laughing as I removed my coat and boots.

He came to me and embraced me, the equipment hard and bumpy against my body. He was laughing so hard, trying to kiss me, but unable because of the helmet. Finally, he just held me, his body still shaking with mirth.

"You’re not going to keep that on, are you?"

"I don't know," he said, still chuckling. "Kinda feels a bit kinky. You could get some pompoms. Shake your booty a bit…" He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling in that way. "Maybe I'll keep them on just until I see how hellish you are."

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the wine. I was less tense due to the laughter, but still, I felt a certain amount of trepidation about the evening's events.

"A nice Pinot Noir," he said, a bit more in control. "Red wine is good for menstrual cramps. Helps stop the prostaglandins that cause your cramping." He leaned down and whispered, but he couldn’t get close because of the face guard. "I'm going to get you good and drunk and then fuck you."

I stepped backwards, trying to escape his arms. "You said you wouldn't, Drake. I'm holding you to that."

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