So close that they recklessly think that they are in love with his feet.
“Fine. You want me to enlighten you? Your dick, Mr. Edwards, your dick won’t work, if you keep drinking. That’s what erectile dysfunction is. Now, are you happy? Did you think I wouldn’t say it? Do you think I’m some kind of a delicate flower who can’t say dick?”
He unfolds his arms and comes away from the counter.
His bare feet touch my sneakers and I’m forced to make space for him. Well, not forced exactly.
I move back and keep moving back because I want to. Because I can’t help myself.
His eyes are trained on me and he’s so big that he overtakes and hijacks all my willpower. I want him to hijack all my willpower and pin me down like a butterfly.
Which happens exactly five seconds later when my butt hits the island. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to tell you something.”
“Tell me what?”
“That I don’t have a dick.”
“Wh-what?”
He nods, staring me in the eyes, making me squirm. “Boys have dicks. Dicks that sometimes don’t work. I’m not a boy. Do I look like a boy to you?”
“No.”
“What do I look like then?”
Does he really have to ask?
I mean, just look at him. Look at that beard of his. All thick and dark and lending him a dangerous quality. Not to mention those lines around his gorgeous eyes. His high, sculpted cheekbones. That brawny body of his.
He leans down toward me, bringing that body closer as he puts both his hands on the island, caging me in. “So?”
“You’re a man,” I whisper, thinking that if he puts a little more pressure on the island, if he throws in a little bit of his strength, he can rip it out. So very easily.
As easily as he can carry me and throw my tiny body around.
I should really stop having that thought. Really.
“Right.” He nods. “So, I don’t have a dick. I have a cock.”
Jesus Christ.
He said cock.
Cock.
So much filthier. Dirtier and more illicit. Like, you can only say cock when it’s the middle of the night and all the lights are turned off.
I grab the island as well when I feel something tickle in the back of my knees, making them weak. “Okay.”
“What do I have, Violet?”
I’m not sure if he’s growing bigger with every second that passes or if I’m growing smaller. More feminine and submissive and pliant.
“You have a cock,” I whisper like the slave I am.
And then, I focus really, really hard so I don’t look down and check out the area where his cock is supposed to be.
“Good.” He straightens up and moves away. “So I guess erectile dysfunction is off the table then.”
After that, he makes for the counter and picks up his bottle again. I wake up from my daze as well and blurt out, “Don’t do this.”
He gives me a blank look and takes a sip of whiskey.
“Please, Mr. Edwards.” I step toward him, feeling a little disoriented from the fog he just put me in.
“I think you should get your water and go.”
He goes to take another sip but I make it to him in time and put my hand over his.
I can’t even cover it, his hand. My fingers are so tiny and so pale against his bronzed ones. I could look at them forever, his big fingers and my moon-colored, small ones.
I squeeze his hand not only to stop him but to feel his strength, and his entire body goes tight. As if I somehow squeezed his heart, that beating, vital thing inside his chest.
“Let it go,” he warns.
I glance up at him and find those cheekbones of his darkened and flushed probably with anger and hate for me. “I know you don’t like me. I know you hate me.” His jaw clenches and his knuckles tighten up under my palm. “But I can’t let you do this. I’m not going to stand aside while you ruin the rest of your life. Alcohol is bad for you. It’s unhealthy. It’s destructive. You can’t waste your life like this. You can’t drink your life away because I kissed you and your whole world exploded because of it. You can’t do this to yourself. Or to Brian. I know he hates me too. I’ve betrayed his trust. You probably already know that we aren’t even friends anymore. He won’t talk to me. He won’t pick up my calls and I… know that’s my fault. But I’m not going to watch while you hurt yourself and him more, okay? I can’t.”
I squeeze his heated fingers again. “I can’t watch you hurt yourself. You have to stop because I don’t have the strength to take on more blame, Mr. Edwards. You can blame me for all your problems. You can be cruel to me. You can be mean, but you can’t do this to me. I won’t be able to bear it. I won’t. So please, stop. For your sake, for your son’s sake and for mine.”