“Why’s that?”
“I have nothing besides money.”
“And independence,” he adds. “That’s not nothing.”
“Okay. But it hasn’t always been like that. I’ve been where you are.”
He drops everything on the bed and closes the distance between us.
“Have you?” he asks, darkness glinting in his eyes.
I nod.
“Yes...” I say softly. “Years back, I was out on the street, looking for food in the dumpsters and taking jobs that wouldn’t leave me with enough money to buy the cardboard I had slept on under the bridge. And it’s not as if I didn’t think about sucking cock for money, but I wouldn’t have survived on the street. I would’ve been dead by now.”
He ponders what I just said, a new thought erasing the emotion in his eyes.
“I need to go,” he says and saunters away.
“I’ll come with you,” I say, running my hand down my back and pulling the zipper.
The gown falls to the floor.
He cuts his eyes at me as I flick my bra open and let it slide off my shoulders.
Unexpectedly, he turns to me, two strides bringing him to me.
I step back and lean against the wall while he braces his palms on either side of me, his eyes searching mine.
“Is that the real reason you pursued me?” he asks softly.
He tilts his head down, his gaze rooted on my lips.
“I saw myself in you,” I say.
He cups my face and trails my jawline with his thumb.
“You’re no longer living on the street. How can you possibly see yourself in me?”
I shrug, my eyes still locked with his.
“I don’t know, but that’s how I felt.”
More moments of silence pass as I examine his eyes.
“Why do you need rough sex?” he asks.
“I can’t get off. Most of the time, I can’t even get turned on without it,” I say.
“Were you always like that?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you fuck Nick then?”
“He...”
I throw him a questioning look.