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Of course, I manipulate people all the time. I could manipulate women into bed, or keep them in bed, if I wanted to. This plan should not turn my stomach. It isn’t an out of line action, or me. Yet, I find myself wishing I were doing anything but lying to Lucy. I think I almost want to be the person I plan to lie about being.
Well, that might have been an option a long time ago, but now I’m not capable of being that man anymore. I killed the good man inside me and let the monster live instead. The monster is wealthy. The monster only cares about himself.
So if the good parts of me are dead, am I simply remembering them to manipulate Lucy, or am I haunted by the man that I thought I left in the past?
I don’t know what to think about any of this.
But I need to stop dwelling on me. Lucy is on the menu here, and I’ve got to serve up the charming bad boy she thinks she can save. I’m too far gone … but she doesn’t have to know that. I can’t believe I’m grappling with what I know I need to do. I have to seduce her. What I want is Lucy, and being myself couldn’t possibly keep her around. No, I’m going to play the cards I’m dealt. I know that my body is attractive. My mind is smart enough to pull her in. Let the games begin, right?
Wrong. I’m thinking about Lucy, but I’m thinking about how she feels … and not just to manipulate those facts. I have to let myself mentally clear my throat, perhaps, and that’s all this is? That’s all I hope this is, because I can’t lose my edge the one time I’ve needed it more than anything.
Lucy is nervous. Despite the fact that she offered her virginity to me, despite the fact that when the time came, she enjoyed every second of what we shared … she’s nervous about the prospect of us fucking again, and I can see that the instant our eyes meet and I approach her. That’s okay, because I know how to make a woman want me. I’m not starting a zero. Tentative desire is what’s before me. Tentative desire is just desire that needs convincing. I know how her body responds to mine. More importantly, I know that she wants to want me. I’ll have Lucy in my grasp, yet. Or should I say she’ll be grasping me soon. Feeling her holding onto me when I fuck is the sort of thing my every fantasy is made of now. Every free moment has me dreaming up her body like some kind of silly teenager or something, which is quite the sharp shift in the wind considering just how much I’ve sworn off women after what happened with my wife. Yeah … everything about Lucy and what she does to me is different from anything I’ve known, and Lucy’s just too damn good in too many ways for me to do anything but remove the fear that might cause her to flee. Because I gave her the option to go, and I won’t take that away. But I sure as fuck don’t want her to leave so I’ve got to put forth my best, shady fucking effort.
I have absolutely no intention of letting her get scared off because I’m not sliding into a pussy that doesn’t want me. No, when I fuck Lucy’s tight pussy again, I’ll be doing so when it's so slippery it glistens for me.
So, to get there, I can tell I need to take a tender touch. I’m a disgusting asshole, I know, because that means I’m going to be sweet and charming and say every little thing and do every little thing that'll make Lucy trust me. When I have that, I can have anything. Her trust doesn’t have to come in miles, only inches. A taste of trust here, there, until her shivers disappear and it feels like her idea and her acceptance that leads to me buried inside her again. I’m not taking or overtly coercing. I’m planting the idea in her mind because I’m not just telling her the truth that her body already knows.
She wants me. She needs me. Lucy has already had one taste of me, and she’s not going to just let that go.
“Lucy,” I say when I reach her. She turns, her flowing brown hair cascading down her shoulders and her back in such an enchanting way that I don’t have to fake for a second how mesmerized by her I am. “I wanted to take you back up to the penthouse and let you know how good you look today,” I say, which is a bit of a risk. I need to be smooth and I’m being sleazy instead? Am I trying to fail over here?
Lucy blushes, and I know the way her body inclines toward mine a little that I haven’t totally struck out. No, Lucy likes that I said that to her because she likes what my body does to hers.
“Gian, I thought you’d never ask,” Lucy says, and there’s something in her voice that keeps me from thinking that she is putting on some kind of front. There’s a real arousal in her voice there, even around all these people. It frightens her, but it feels good to her. I’m kind of fucking touched by the idea, but I can’t be getting sappy now. Not when I'm just trying to fuck Lucy and make her feel like I’m a total fucking monster. You know, like a manipulative monster would?
How can this girl be so new to my life and be tearing it apart. I’m trying to breathe over here, walking toward the elevator with her. My hand is at the small of her back as we walk, and Lucy slips her other hand into mine. My fingers close over hers and my heart skips a damn beat like I’m some kind of school girl. The effect that Lucy has on me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before and I want to be able to get my head clear and get my cock buried deep inside of her. I thought those two things were connected, but now I’m not so sure. Because the way that I need to be inside Lucy, that’s the same intensity with which my feelings toward her confuse me. I’m baffled by how I can feel so much for this girl. I’m confused more than anything by how I don’t take advantage of the perfect situation to twist and turn any way I want. This girl is utterly reliant on me, and instead of taking advantage like I would in any business deal, I find myself thinking about her feelings. About the feelings that she creates in me. I need her more than I’d like to admit.
The elevator becomes a challenge. The idea of making out in an elevator shouldn’t be as hot to me as it is now, but I want to press her against the wall of this elevator the instant the doors close.
When the doors actually do close, it's Lucy’s hand that squeezes mine. I look at her, an ounce of shock ready to convert into a full gallon of surprise when her lips close over mine. Well, Lucy was so inexperienced. A virgin. Making out in an elevator is exciting for her because she’s not some tired out girl that’s done everything.
And it's exciting for me, the man everyone thinks is tiring out plenty of women in this city. I gave up that life a long time ago when I thought I was marrying someone who cared about me, and when that turned out to be a business move on her part, well, I just gave up women entirely.
How can I be going through my own soft little moment with Lucy now? Her lips on mine aren’t tentative. They're soft. Lucy is kissing me softly, almost as if she’s asking for permission. I aimed to charm her pants off, but right now she’s the one charming me. In a way that does mean that I succeeded, and I don’t think I want to keep dwelling on this. Not when her body presses firmer into mine… and then I hear the elevator ask for my card and code. Nothing like an interruption to make you appreciate what’s before you.
Reluctantly, I tear just part of my body away from her, but my hand is still in hers. My side is still pressed to her side. I don’t feel foolish wanting to touch her like this.
That’s truly the worst part, I realize as we both fade away into our kisses.
I don’t want Lucy to want me the way that she wants me. I already knew that I wasn’t good enough for her, but I’m ruining this poor girl. She’s sweet. She should be with a man who can love her. A man who can marry her. I’m just the rich asshole helping her with her brother. Her affection for me is wholly undeserved.
Still, I can’t deny the sparks that fly between us. I never understood that expression, sparks flying, until I met Lucy and a fireworks show could be going off every time her hazel eyes met mine. I want to kiss her until we both wake up in a new life and there’s nothing to be worried about. But that’s not how life works, and I know this because I'm able to buy just about anything else. But I can’t buy my way out of how wrong for Lucy I am.
Worst of all, I can’t buy myself out of the parts of me that want her no matter what. That don’t want me to let me save her.
When we’re about to walk into the penthouse door, she turns and faces me, holding my hand, smiling. Lucy’s too goddamn good for me and I just can’t take this. Well, I can. That’s what’s so rough. I’m going to take every drop of everything Lucy has to give.
What will be left when she realizes who I really am?
I smile back at her. It isn’t hard to fake being the guy who wants her so much right now. To be charming. Because I do want her more than anything. It's a hazard to us both.
The soft way her eyes crinkle when she smiles makes me need to breathe her in. As soon as we’re inside, I close the door and press her against it. Softly, gently. I’m being
charming, remember?
I cradle her face, and kiss her face where her smile gives her soft little lines, trailing down her cheek to kiss next to her lips, and then to kiss her there. My other arm wraps around behind her and holds her against me. I want to hold her like this forever.
I’m fooling myself into thinking I’m just doing all of this because I’m trying to charm her. Lucy is the one who is charming me and making me into the shell of someone that I don’t even know. Where do I fit in if I want her, and not the existence that seems so empty to me now? What good is all the power to control a city of sin when all I want is heaven in Lucy’s arms?
