“Me?” He laughed as he stood up and unbuttoned his trousers …
“Actually, I’m kind of full,” I said in a panic as I could see where this was heading, and as much as I wanted him, I wasn’t ready for all of that.
There wasn’t much left on the plate, but I didn’t care. I doubted he’d really hurt me. I grabbed the fork he’d been using, stabbed the two pieces of turkey, and stuffed them both in my mouth.
“I get to ask a question, right?” I said as I chewed a way too big bite of food.
This made him laugh as he left his trousers unbuttoned but didn’t take out the heavy artillery.
“I don’t know. You just cheated.” He tried to sound menacing, but his laughter got in the way.
“Dude, I’m not eating turkey off your dick. That’s … it’s …” I swallowed.
“Erotic.” He stood up and walked behind me as his hands coursed over my shoulders. “As is biting someone … hard.” He leaned in, and at first, I thought he was going to kiss my neck, but instead, he bit it, and I almost choked.
Just as the pain was starting to well up, he licked his warm tongue over the spot and picked up the dish as if we were just two fucking psychos having dinner.
He rinsed the dishes off in the sink. “What’s your question?” he asked with the kind of domestic familiarity that made me think we were already married, sittin’ around shooting the shit.
“Do you love anything?” I was serious, I needed to know.
We had been dancing the line between reality and fantasy all night. Was he a complete asshole or a fun, crazy, rich guy who had some commitment issues, thus the ‘let’s play a game’ approach to having an adult conversation?
He turned off the water without finishing the dish, which he set down dirty in the sink.
“Why do you ask?” His impervious guard lowered imperceptibly, but I had touched something in him.
“Well, I’m just curious, I guess. I tell you I’m hungry, starving … in fact, and I’m willing to fend on my own to feed myself and you think … wow, this is my chance to get a girl I just met to suck turkey off of my cock … because that’s where you were heading. I’m not an idiot. So, I get it, this isn’t love. I’m never coming back here. You and I might exchange kind words at a party we are both attending, but tonight is it. I’m fully aware that I’ve signed up for a one-night stand … which, I might add, I’ve never done before, despite what the world ‘knows’ about me. So, I just want to know. If you don’t love women … I mean in the way where you respect them and feed them nicely, then what do you love … or respect?” I didn’t want to cry, but for some reason, that’s where I was going.
Chapter 6
Alec
Damn, she was smart.
“I respect you. Teeth and all.” I tried to smile her hurt away.
As soon as she started speaking, the pain she must have suffered just bubbled up. She was a girl with baggage, but she managed it well, kind of a warrior hero sort of skinny supermodel. I actually wanted her to eat. A little meat on her bones would do her a world of good. Doubtful her agency would allow it, but as I looked at her sitting there drowning in thrift store salvage, I thought about making her an incredible dinner one night, perhaps seared salmon or grilled lobster tail, and nourish that tiny body to a reasonable kind of health.
She laughed. “You respect me enough not to tie me up or force me to eat food off your throbbing manhood, but that’s a very light interpretation of the word.”
“So, what were the teeth then?” I goaded her.
“My weapon of choice.” She took a sip of her water, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to move past this moment.
I should have called a car to take her home. I didn’t have a driver; I detested commitment so much I could only handle one regular staff member. My driving service just sent who was available when I needed them. She didn’t need me in her life. She needed a nice man who loved things, hopefully, her.
I closed my eyes and breathed at the moment. I didn’t really pray, I wasn’t a spiritual person, but I looked for guidance. I didn’t want to lose her—I was looking forward to our night of passion. So, I thought of a response that would answer her question enough to push back whatever was starting to scare her but didn’t reveal me.
“I love,” I started. “Some women. My grandmother who is dead, God rest her soul, but not necessarily my mother who is very much alive. I love my housekeeper, much the same way I loved my grandmother. Most women … well, let’s be real, most women don’t love me. I like women who have interests. I don’t date wallflowers, but you know, people who do things. I prefer independent women because having someone at the house all the time just tending to my every need is a horrible concept. Someone who fucks me Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and on the weekend and says, ‘Honey what do you want to do?’ all of the time would make me crazy. Most women see I have money and think of exotic vacations, cars, jewels, homes, clothing, affluence, prestige, power …” I may have ramped up a little there at the end.