I turn to Roarke and point a finger. “You aren’t the boss of us. If we want—”
He grabs my wrist. Oh crap. Jolts of excitement shoot to my sex. Another orgasm starts to tighten inside of me. This is insane.
With the unfaltering confidence he always exudes, he holds my gaze. Slowly lowering my hand, but not letting go, he rests it on his erection. That’s not fair, I can’t think straight. Have they turned me into a desperate little slut? A shiver rushes up my spine. Would he be willing to call me that? What was the point I was trying to make?
“Are you sure I’m not the boss of you?” His gravelly tone confirms that he is.
The only way to keep my resolve is to purse my lips and avoid letting the answer that’s on the tip of my tongue sneak out.
“If I told you to get on your knees and suck Bennett’s cock while I ride you bare, what would you do?”
I stop myself from getting on all fours.
Roarke’s fingers tighten around my wrist. His gaze darkens. He can see through me. He knows my answer. He can sense that I want to relinquish control.
And the only way I can experience every bit of his intensity is to keep my identity a secret, no matter how bad of a person that makes me. I’ll just ride it out, have the fun, then find a natural point to break it off, like when they realize I’m just a waitress without a car, without a path forward in life.
I’ll never be like them. All I have to do is explain that women have agency in relationships too. We don’t need men to be our bosses.
“This is the last time I’ll ask. Do you want me to be the boss of you?”
“Yes.” Damn my traitorous mouth. I turn to Bennett, who’s staring at me wide-eyed.
Roarke lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it.
“Bennett, get her dressed and drive her home.”
“But, she just agreed…”
“I want her to be sure that she’s ours before we go any further.”
There’s not a single part of me that’s okay with this, yet his insistence I be sure, is charming, despite the power play.
“Go home and think about it. I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
I’m giving him my phone number while Bennett brings my clothes and helps me dress. Is this happening? How many times am I going to ask myself before it sinks in that Roarke isn’t the kind of guy to joke around?
The jumbled sound of minions talking comes from my phone and Roarke eyes it curiously. “Is that your ringtone?”
“Yeah. It’s the purple minions, not the yellow ones if that makes it less weird.” I’m worried he’ll think it’s childish but it makes him laugh, and he looks great with a smile.
I brace myself on Bennett’s shoulder while he helps me step into my shorts. I’m about to ask where my panties are…my holey panties but decide against it.
On the way home, I ask Bennett if we can listen to music. He must be as perplexed by the whole thing as I am because he tells me to turn on whatever I want. When we cross the mountain and drive into Peach Bottom Valley, I give directions to my apartment and it hits me that my worry about them realizing I’m not from their world could come crashing down around me.
He pulls to a stop in front of my building, I shout a goodbye over my shoulder and dash out of his Ferrari.
I’m grateful for the peaceful night’s sleep that must have been an after-effect of the wicked orgasms they gave me. I hadn’t been joking about needing a rest.
It’s my day off so I grab my manicure set and head onto my little concrete porch. Now that I have a heads up on being in a relationship, or whatever I’m in, I can pay more attention to the little things like keeping my hair and nails in tip-top shape and being more careful about which underwear I choose.
I take off the red nail polish and apply a pink that matches my lips.
A car pulls up and I’m about to tell him the parking is for residents only when I see the magnet on the side, a delivery service. I go back to finishing my nails.
“Are you Caroline?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” but I didn’t order anything.