Normally, the pretty boy get-up isn’t my type. Ryan’s different, though. He carries himself with such confidence and ease—in a way that suggests he’s not scared of anything. That drew me in so deeply.
If nothing could scare him, then surely the monsters hiding in my head wouldn’t, either.
Ryan’s eyes meet mine, the dull blue swirling with secrets and something dark that drew me in like a moth to a flame. After almost two years together, I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface with him.
And finally, I’m meeting his parents. For so long, he held off, claiming he didn’t want to introduce another girl to his parents until he was sure it was the girl he’s going to marry. The day he told me he wanted me to meet them was one of the happiest days of my life.
He says they’ll love me. I say they’ll love me, too.
Parents usually do.
“You’re wearing a lot of makeup,” he comments. The smile melts of my face like butter in a frying pan.
I blink.
“No more than usual,” I argue gently. I don’t look away as I slide my seatbelt on.
He turns away from me anyway, putting his BMW in drive and lurching ahead with ease. I tuck a strand of my curly black hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. Did I go too heavy on the foundation? Does my face look like a dimpled cake? Maybe I should’ve gone without the eyeliner.
“Maybe it’ll turn out,” Ryan says after several minutes of silence. My eyes slide towards him again. Sometimes it feels like getting too close to a black hole. He sucks you in, body and soul, no chance of escape while he destroys every last bit of you.
“How so?”
“It’ll be sexy to see it running down your face after you suck my cock.” He says it casually, but with just enough darkness creeping in.
My perfectly sculpted brows pull into a small V. He’s still looking ahead, one hand on the wheel, another resting casually on the gearshift. The picture of sexiness and strength. A small smirk pulls at the corner of his thin lips. That’s his tell. He’s feeling particularly savage tonight.
“You mean after dinner?” I clarify, hoping I’m right.
He spares a small glance from the corner of his eye, his smirk tightening.
“Right now, River.”
Hope—what a useless emotion.
He’s punishing me for wearing too much makeup. He says I’m a natural beauty and makeup makes me look like a whore. But I’ve always loved dressing my face up with colors. I make sure to not go too heavy, but it doesn’t matter to Ryan. Intensifying my beauty means intensifying stares from other men. He’s possessive and gets territorial when other men hit on me. He hasn’t worn me down from wearing it yet.
Sometimes I like it when he tries. And sometimes I don’t.
His cock is already hard, straining against his khakis. He’s an average guy, but he uses it like it’s a weapon.
“Ryan…” His eyebrow quirks in challenge at my hesitance, daring me to defy him. I lick my lips as a sick feeling builds in my chest. How can I get out of this without upsetting him? If I refuse, it’ll disappoint him, and that’s the last thing I want.
“I’m meeting your parents for the first time. I need to make a good first impression.” My argument is valid. But yet it comes out weak. Why is that? It sounds like I’m saying that my breath smells bad so I can’t suck his dick right now.
Normally, I’d be all over the opportunity. There’s always a healthy dose of trepidation when it comes to sex with Ryan. He has a strange appetite and I’m still learning how to handle it. All I want is to satisfy him. Make him happy. Give him something no other woman has before me.
Striving for Ryan’s approval has been my number one priority since the day I kicked a girl out of her seat next to Ryan and replaced her. His flavor of the week didn’t appreciate it, and I promptly told her to fuck off. He looked at me as if he was seeing a real woman for the first time. Awe, admiration, and a whole lot of need.
It sparked something inside o
f me. Actually, it lit an entire inferno. From that day forward, I wanted Ryan to look at me like that every day. Like every day is a new discovery.
Ryan liked my shamelessness at the time. But now he likes me docile. Makeup running down my face isn’t a maybe—it’s a promise. One that he’d no doubt go out of his way to make happen. Yet, my body betrays me, the heat between my legs growing damp.
I’m disappointed in myself. Disappointed that even though I genuinely don’t want to do this, my body says the opposite.
Ryan knows it, too. I deflate. I’m not going to pull that look out of Ryan if I refuse him.