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“You scare me plenty, but maybe I’m a little bit broken, because maybe I like it.”
His smile is wicked. “A little bit broken? Darling, you let me fuck you in the ass for a punishment.”
“And if you keep saying it like that, I won’t ever let you do it again.”
“Liar.” He gently pulls my hair and kisses me.
I melt into that kiss. He’s right—I’m lying. I’ll let him fuck me like that a thousand more times, a million more, as many times as he wants. I need him to do it, need him to tie me to the bedpost and spank me, to pin me down and hold me there as he ravages me. I need that reverence in his eyes, that veneration. I want him to look as me as though it’s a religious experience every time his cock slides into my throat.
When we break apart, we lapse into silence. I keep thinking how strange this is, how this thing between us has grown so quickly and so deeply, but that’s part of the magic. We’re tumbling, faster and faster, out of control, spiraling around each other on a massive collision course, and I can’t say where it ends.
Misery? Something good? Both equally possible.
“You know what’s messed up?” I breathe his smell in deeply, closing my eyes. “I feel safe with you.”
He’s silent, like I said the wrong thing. “You shouldn’t.”
“But I still do, even though I know you’re right.” I hold him tighter. “Tell me you don’t want me to feel like this and I’ll stop.” Which we both know is a lie.
He’s silent. Says nothing. Only breathes, slowly, deeply. I turn slightly and bite his chest, sinking my teeth softly into his skin.
“I want you to feel safe,” he finally says as if it pains him. “I want it badly. Only I don’t know if it’s the best idea.”
“None of this is a good idea.” I tilt my chin up to look into his eyes. “Except we’re doing it anyway.”
“You can stop. Walk away.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Good.” He kisses me. “I don’t want you to.”
“Where does this leave us? I mean, what we’re doing—”
His lips tighten into a smile. “I want to admit something, and I want you to promise not to laugh.”
I mime zipping my lips. “Done.”
“I really like calling you my girlfriend. With the guys, it felt—it felt good. I’ve never done that before.”
“You’ve never called a woman your girlfriend?”
“Not since I was young,” he admits. “With you, though, it was natural. I said it, and I believed it, like it was real.”
I chew on my lip for a second, letting that sink in, feeling the deep, warm glow in my chest. “I feel the same way. I mean, I liked saying it. Which is crazy, right?”
“Considering I’m paying you three million—”
I slap his chest. “Don’t youdarefinish that thought.”
He laughs and kisses me, his lips barely brushing mine. “You’re worth every penny.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You really do know how to ruin a moment, don’t you?”
“Can’t help myself.”
I curl up, smiling despite how annoyed I feel.
Nothing’s resolved. We like saying we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but what does that really mean? We like fucking—we like kissing—hell, I think I even like fighting with him, as bizarre as that may be, since it usually ends in a spanking.
