As far as I’m concerned, I owe him nothing for what he did. He didn’t keep to our verbal contract.
I’d be willing to pay him for his time, nothing more.
And as for any past debts I owe him, he can suck it. Our past stays in the past.
There is no way he’s going to start collecting on old debts. If he does, then it means I get to collect too, and he owes me as much or more than I owe him.
But I know what Langston really wants. The same thing he’s always wanted.
Me.
My body.
My soul.
He wants to control me. He wants to boss me around in the bedroom.
No way in hell am I letting that happen.
Not just because I’d be cheating on Waylon if I did. Langston doesn’t deserve that part of me—ever.
And the only person left on this earth who terrifies me is Langston.
“You’re all worked up, my love,” Waylon says, kissing my shoulder.
He’s right. He can read me well when I get worked up like this. My body is hot and agitated and horny. God, I’m so horny.
Sure, Langston turned me on. He’s a blonde god in a tux. He looked like a hotter James Bond. I’ve seen Langston a lot of ways—T-shirt and shorts, shirtless in swim trunks, even naked. But it’s a rare occasion to see him in a tux or suit. He hates them.
Yet, he can wear a tux with the best of them. He fits into the world of powerful men, whether he wants to or not. All he has to do to belong is get a respectable job and wear a suit or tux with pride.
But that’s something Langston will never do. He’d rather take orders from his best friend. Protect and serve—that’s Langston.
I used to like it, especially when he was protecting me. But I lost that right a long time ago. And apparently, now I have to pay him back when he protects me.
Ugh, how annoying.
The elevator doors open to Waylon’s penthouse. He has an early flight tomorrow, which is why we are staying here tonight instead of my place. People used to think it was weird that we both still have our own places, but both places are incredible; it would be a shame to give either of them up. We can easily afford both. And they are located across town from each other, which makes it convenient to stay at one or the other depending on our schedules.
“You think you can help me work off some steam?” I ask, running my tongue over my bottom lip.
His eyes light up with anticipation. He loses his stone, distinguished expression, and turns into a horny boy willing to please me—just the way I like it. Some women prefer a man who dominates them in the bedroom, one who ties them up, spanks them, bosses them around.
Not me—that all seems too degrading. I like the power. I like to be the boss.
Maybe it’s because of my history.
Maybe it’s because of who I am.
Either way, it’s the only way I fuck—I’m the one who dominates.
Waylon unlocks the front door and holds it open for me.
I grab his tie as I walk past and yank him inside before slamming him against the wall, already feeling a tiny bit better now that I’m going to get a dozen orgasms tonight to make up for what Langston said and did.
“Yea, baby, use me. Hurt me. Take out your anger and pent up emotion on me. I want to know how badly you want me, because it can’t be as much as I want you,” Waylon says, kissing my neck sweetly.
I smirk. He has no idea about my past, but he does know that I’m fucked up.