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“But…” I start. “Your company. You won't be able to pay back the investor…” I finish.
He doesn’t say anything.
I’m afraid to speak.
I look at him, not knowing what to say. He threw away every chance he had to save himself, in exchange for… my safety.
“I love you, Athena,” he breathes out in a whisper, cupping my right cheek with one hand and leaning in to kiss me. Our lips brush together and I offer him a pale smile.
“I love you too, Malcolm … and it was me.”
“It was you that…?” he asks me.
“I’m the mystery investor. I wanted to… save you from Ben.”
“Jesus,” he breathes out, and for the first time since I stepped foot inside his apartment, he sounds genuinely surprised. He looks away from me as if to collect his thoughts; then, when he turns back to look at me, there’s a radiant smile on his lips. “I can’t believe you did that, Athena. But … it just goes to prove that I’ve picked the right woman,” he finishes, and then kisses me again. “And I don’t ever want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
“I want you to be my wife,” he suddenly says, his unblinking eyes focused on mine. This time he isn’t smiling—no, he’s dead serious right now.
“Are you…?”
“Yes, I’m proposing,” he whispers, a thin smile now taking shape on his lips.
“YES!” I shout, putting my arms around him and pulling him close. “YES!” I continue, tears streaming down my face, except this time, I welcome these tears.
Because they’re tears of joy.
That’s all I remember before Malcolm wraps his arms around me and my world goes black.
26
Athena
I swear to all the stars in the heavens, being with Malcolm is turning me into a dude. I don’t see him for a few days and I want to fuck him. He gets angry, and I want to fuck him. He has good news, and I want to fuck him. The sun rises in the east, and I want to fuck him.
Ben has gotten what he fucking deserves, and it was a long time coming, if you ask me. So I don’t see any better way to celebrate than to fuck the living daylights out of Malcolm. I'm sure he won’t object too much.
Another reason that I think I'm becoming a dude, or at the very least learning to like fucking like dudes like fucking, is because my wants are changing wildly. The other day in my office I wanted angry, rough, panty-tearing sex. Right now? I want to be the one who is aggressive. Rough sex is always good and maybe there'll be some torn clothes by the end, but it'll be his shirt or pants if I have my way.
“What're you thinking?” Malcolm asks, looking at me with a little bit of concern in his eyes. Shit! I must've gone deeper into my mind than I'd realized.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I respond, trying to cover my lapse in concentration. I'm not sure why but I've always done that. I can lose myself in my own thoughts. Friends have told me I get a far-off blank look on my face.
“Ummm, yeah I would.”
“I was thinking about your cock,” I say, not finding a reason to hold off any longer.
“Well, okay then,” he answers with a big grin on his face. No surprise—he likes this topic of conversation. “Were you thinking about anything particular, or just a general mental survey of my cock?”
“Shut up and find out, big boy,” I tease, stepping up to him and looping one arm over his shoulder so I can put my hand on his head and pull him in for a kiss. My other hand heads in the opposite direction. I find the shaft of his cock, hardening and pushing against his jeans from the inside. He’s hot in my hand. I give a few firm squeezes. The moan I draw from him feels divine radiating through his lips.
“It’s my turn,” I say, finally breaking the kiss but keeping our faces close. “In my office, I let you have me. Tonight, you’re going to let me have you.” I press my lips to his before he can answer and to emphasize the point, I push my tongue into his mouth aggressively.
“What if I don’t want to give in so easily?” Malcolm asks, his eyes dark with l
ust once he’s able to pry his face away from mine. His questions say he doesn’t want this, but his body is betraying the truth.
