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Nina
After hours of tossing and turning over Aiden’s declaration, I decided sleep wasn’t coming and beat Taylor to the office. I opened my email in a sleep-deprived coma, literally inhaling my coffee as I drank it. I didn’t need another man coming in with a blazing cock proclaiming he knew what was best for me. I wanted a playmate and someone who was genuinely interested in getting to know me. I was hard on Aiden by throwing him out, which I felt guilty for, but at the same time, he needed to know his place, and it wasn’t quite at the head of the table. Not yet. I wasn’t sure agreeing to start a relationship was the best idea, either.
Dom. Dom. Dom!
Devin had never once had to explain his actions in bed. We’d never used a safe word. He’d never…
But he had. He’d had me in every way imaginable, and I’d never once stopped him. Because the truth was, I fucking loved it, just as I’d loved being leashed by Aiden and the cruelty of his fucking.
The whore in me celebrated my luck in finding two men capable of sating my appetite.
Shut up, whore.
Aiden was a versatile lover while Devin, though clever with charming words, had never once made love to me.
Do I embrace this? Naughty Nina.
I shivered in my seat. I’d spent way too much time thinking it through already, and it was always the same conclusion.
/> I was a greedy nymph, and when I was hungry, moral conscience didn’t come into play.
In all the night’s activities, I’d forgotten about the background check and opened the email from Taylor she’d sent sometime during my dinner with Aiden. I read through both files with a fine-tooth comb.
Devin Alexander McIntyre, born October 28, 1979, age 36.
Thirty-six? FUCK. I fought hard to remember when I’d asked him his age. He’d had a birthday and didn’t tell me. Of course he hadn’t.
Father, Eric McIntyre, age 63.
Mother, Genevieve McIntyre, age 61, born in Germany.
It was a simple summary. No siblings, which gave me a breath of relief. It was a complete timeline of his life and career. He’d been valedictorian of his high school, and a track star. He went on to Brown to double major in business and history, eventually graduating with an MBA. No criminal record. Married Eileen Greer, May 15, 2008. Wow, the happy couple just had an anniversary.
Fuck them.
I moved onto Aiden.
Aiden Elliot McIntyre, born March 26, 1980, age 35.
Father Elliot McIntyre, deceased, age 34, Suicide.
Oh no! Pain spread through my chest thinking of my own father and how I wouldn’t have done well without him. I needed to spend time with him. I would make it a priority.
Poor Aiden.
Mother, Juliana McIntyre, age 59.
I read the rest with my mouth hanging open. If Devin was impressive on paper, Aiden was a golden child. He made All-American in football. His achievements were endless. He’d gone to Harvard, graduating with a doctorate in psychiatry and onto graduate school for business communications.
I stared at my screen, completely useless. Taylor walked in as I blinked rapidly at the screen.
“Well, I see you got my email,” she piped, handing me a fresh latte.
“He’s a bar owner,” I said, scanning through the rest of the information.
She sat across from me, unaffected as she spoke. “Who better to serve you beer than a neighborhood shrink?” I pushed away from my desk and started pacing.
