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Her flush deepens. She shifts in her seat. "You’re talking dirty to shock me."
"No, I’m talking dirty to arouse you.”
She looks away, draws in a breath, then seems to compose herself. When she turns back to me, her gaze is shrewd. "Hidden behind all that crude, vulgar, sadistic behavior of yours is a romantic."
I allow my lips to curl. "Hidden behind that curvy, Barbie doll persona of yours is someone who’s attracted to the dark side of sex."
She tips up her chin. "I’m not denying the foray into BDSM at the club got me curious about the kinky side of making love."
And she calls it making love, which is so fucking cute. I prefer to call it an exchange of bodily fluids, a transaction, a way to get rid of this need that’s crawling inside me and waiting to break through my skin.
"At least I’m honest." She squares her shoulders. "Which is more than I can say about you."
I scowl. "What are you talking about?"
"That underneath all your bluster and overbearing personality, you’re lonely. You’re hurting. You’re wounded from what happened to you when you were taken by the enemy."
My muscles bunch. My stomach tightens. I glare at her, but for the first time, she doesn’t look away.
"Perhaps these are injuries you had even before, and likely, didn’t get a chance to address. And then, with the pressure you came under, all of it came to the fore."
"What is this, pop psychology 101? Or maybe it’s a quiz you read in one of your fluffy women’s magazine and now you think you can gauge what I went through based on it?"
She firms her lips. "That’s your fallback option, isn’t it? When you’re scared or you feel vulnerable, you strike out like a cornered animal."
"And when you’re scared, you get turned on."
"What?" She gapes.
"It’s true, isn’t it, Little Dove?" I use my nickname on purpose and am rewarded when her pupils dilate. Oh, she responds to my pet name so beautifully. How would it be to make her respond to my cock, hmm?
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if I dropped to my knees and pushed my nose into your crotch, I’d find you gloriously aroused and dripping all over my chair. You’ve oozed cum all over your panties, haven’t you? Hearing me talk about fucking without a condom has your clit throbbing, your pussy squeezing down and coming up empty. You can’t wait to leave here and use your fingers to find relief."
"That’s not true."
"Oh?" I allow my lips to curl. "Want me to put it to the test?" I push up as if to rise to my feet, and she jumps up. "No, no. Stop. Don’t come near me."
"Then admit that you’re turned on when I use explicit words."
"I… I—"
I begin to rise to my feet, and she yelps. "Fine, fine. I do. When you use obscene words it, uh, does something to me."
"Describe it."
"What?"
"Tell me what it does to you."
Her eyes round. "No, I won’t."
"In which case—" This time, I do rise to my feet, and she throws up her hands. "Fine, it does weird things to my lower belly and between my legs, and my nipples tighten, and my breasts seem to swell, and my scalp tingles, and my toes curl, and moisture seeps out from my—"
"Cunt?"
She nods.
