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Holly
Ihate him. I actually think I hate Dexter fucking Prince right now. He wasn’t kidding when he said things would be different here. This is one big, sick joke, it must be.
As I look around, I stare at a room that makes me want to hurl. It’s all white and pink like a candy cane and he has got this so wrong. I’m not that girl. The one who bats her lashes as he showers her with material possessions. I like my lines edgy and bold. Modern sleek lines and powerful colors. Not this shout out to Barbie. What a fucking joke.
Then there’s this whole fuck toy job he tricked me into. I actually have no say in my life because he has chained me to his side by giving me what I foolishly asked for. Every fucking thing.
Him, the job, the opportunity, but in snatching it like the greedy bitch I am means I have sacrificed my integrity.
Sex is the driving force behind that because I want him—all the time it seems, but I want the Dexter from the picnic. My sexy cowboy with the gentler side. The man who showed emotion and made me feel like a queen, not the cold, unfeeling bastard, who makes me feel like the whore I apparently am.
Spying the black dress, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. He’s even dressing me now to play out some sick fantasy he’s been obviously planning for some time.
Then there’s my apartment. What the actual fuck. I have nowhere to go, he’s seen to that too and even if I go shopping, it’s with him keeping tabs on me. I may as well be back in that cow prison for all the freedom I have, and as the full horror of my situation hits, I feel like the most foolish bitch alive. I sold myself and there is no escaping from that.
It’s been a long day and it appears will be a long evening and so with resignation, I head to the shower to cleanse away my bad mood. I can do this. It’s what I wanted. I asked for this. Maybe it’s just all been too much and I’ll think differently tomorrow.
By the time I follow instructions and meet him in that amazing room, I have adjusted my attitude and am just looking forward to eating. Why not take advantage of this situation myself? I get the best of everything after all, and my own space to sleep in at night. Maybe this is the way forward, women choosing to use men like Dexter like he’s using me. I’ll use him for sex and position and it will be on my terms—mentally anyway, he still has control, but I’ll work on that.
The sight that greets me strengthens my resolve because God help me, this man just looks at me and I orgasm.
As I head toward him, he casts that lazy look over my entire body and it heats me inside, imagining what will happen later. He has changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and casual Dexter is as mouth-watering as corporate Dexter but still not a patch on cowboy Dexter.
He pours me a glass of champagne and I raise my eyes. “Are we celebrating?”
“Of course, this is your new home, welcome.”
Taking the glass, I sip the cool liquid and shrug. “It will do I suppose.”
“Is that so.” He seems mildly amused and I nod disparagingly. “Yes, I would have done it differently. Less bland, bolder, more modern, giving it some actual personality instead of the bland one that obviously reflects the brief you gave your interior designer.”
“Then change it, I don’t care.”
“I won’t have time.”
“Probably not.”
He seems to be enjoying himself and looks interested. “So, how are you feeling about things now you’ve had time to settle in?”
“Fine I guess. I’ll just make the best of a bad situation and use you for sex like you intend on using me.”
I maintain an indifferent expression, and he grins, his eyes flashing wickedly. “Is that so? How will you use me, this I’d like to hear?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I suppose just let you orgasm me out of boredom because being a kept woman wasn’t really high up on my agenda in life.”
“You want your own empire, of course, I remember.”
“Good, then it won’t come as a shock to you when I achieve what I set out to do and quit this freaky setup altogether.”
He sets down his glass and waves toward the couch. “Tell me what you want, really want and I’ll see if I can help out with that.”
“No thanks, I’ll figure it out on my own. Anyway, did you say we were going to eat first? I’m starving and would rather get this over with so I can get an early night.”
He looks angry–finally, and I hope he feels as cheap as I did when he made me feel like a whore.
“We’ll eat.”
He nods toward the door and I follow him to a dining room that takes my breath away. Once again, the room is floor to ceiling windows and even has a glass floor that is suspended over a fish tank containing beautiful exotic fish that swim gracefully beneath our feet. The candles that flicker on the glass table and glass side tables create a seductive warm atmosphere and the soft music plays from hidden speakers and I blink in amazement at the opulence this room brings.
