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A framed photo of my family smiled at me from the wall — the same one I’d showed Patrick on my phone. The Ramirez family, in their Easter best, looking down at the bad daughter slumped in her underwear. Every day, I walked through campus with a video in my head.Your best is never good enough. Be nice. What are people thinking? Make sure they have the highest opinion of you. Succeed, succeed, succeed.
From the time I’d approached Patrick last night to the time he dropped me off this morning, that video had been gone.
I pressed call.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hello.”
One word, and it wound my body up.
“Patrick?” His name came out in that breathy little voice I hadn’t known I had.
“Hi, Christina.” I could hear his smile.
“I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do what?”
Fuck you, asshole.“I’m in. I’ll be your companion.”
“Good. I hoped you’d say yes.”
“That’s so sweet,” I rasped. “I’m glad you were thinking about me.”
He chuckled. “You just came, didn’t you?”
My stomach lurched. My bra strap slipped down my shoulder, and I pushed it back up. My heart beat faster. “Where are you getting that from?”
“I know how your voice sounds after you come,” he said calmly. “And that’s how you sound right now.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I just came.”
“What a horny girl. I think you’re going to be the perfect playmate.”
A chill ran over my body, half-fear, half-desire. “Let’s stick with ‘companion’—” I began.
“Come again.”
“What?”
“Come again for me now.”
The chill intensified.You’re not paying me,I wanted to say.I’m not on the clock. Do I get overtime, Patrick?The words caught in my throat. My panties were soaked. I yanked the scrap of satin down my thighs, tossing it to the side.
“No.”
“Christina, how did it feel when you climaxed?” His voice was a cold blade, caressing me with its point. Exquisitely painful and exquisitely arousing. “What were you thinking when your needy little pussy clenched up?”
Jesus. I should hang up right now, but I was already in the ring. I’d committed when I’d said yes, and I was sick of being called a quitter.
“You,” I spat. “I was thinking about you.”
“And?”
“Your fingers inside me. Your cock. How big it felt. The way you insulted me during sex. The way you kept saying ‘mine.’ How much I hated you. I still hate you.”
“Good. Now touch yourself.”
“Dammit, Patrick…”
