He pulls up at a rather large house a good stretch outside of town. It’s secluded. It’s private. I’m not even sure why that surprises me. I guess I just imagined him being an urban living kind of guy. You know, the middle of the city, walking distance to all the hot spots. Maybe I should just stop stereotyping him completely, because he keeps proving he doesn’t fit in any of them.
His truck smells good, like his cologne mixed with something clean. It smells like him. That smell will cling to my nose forever. I glance over at him. I’ve tried to keep quiet by looking out my window the entire time. He doesn’t seem like much of a talker. “What’s on your mind?”
He hasn’t looked at me this entire time, and he still isn’t. He just presses the button to raise the garage door and pulls in. “Are you sure about this? If the dancing—”
“Fucking stripping. Don’t try to give it class it doesn’t deserve.”
I roll my eyes, and then recite the speech I’ve heard a thousand times by the girls at the club. “That’s not the accepted term for those that choose it as a form of living, but I’ll humor you. If the ‘stripping’ is really going to bother you I can just try and get my job back at the bar and we can work out a schedule. I don’t have to move in with you.”
He kills the engine, still staring straight ahead. “Once I make a decision I don’t go back on it. Seeing you up there was a kick to the balls. I’ve had time to cool down, but other men looking at you that way makes me angry, and a bar isn’t that much better. I’m not sure why it does, but I don’t do well with anger. Someone recently reminded me that I couldn’t control what you do if I don’t make you mine, so here we are. I’ve ignored you for four months because I’m your boss. I’m over it. I’m going to say this and then I doubt I’ll talk about it again, so listen closely. I’m not an easy guy to live with. I’m an asshole really, and I’m set in my ways. You won’t change me. There’s no point in trying. I have no emotional capability. Don’t do that shit most girls do. Leave your heart out of this relationship or you’ll end up resenting me. I won’t talk about my childhood and I expect everything you see or hear to never leave your mind in any way.”
“My heart was never part of the equation. I lost it a long time ago,” I say without thought before doing so.
“Good. I guess that settles it then. Let’s go. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping. We’ll get your shit later.”
I follow him out of the truck to the door. I walk inside, purse in hand. Everything is dark. He turns on the light and I realize we’re in the living room. I’m in grunge heaven. Blackout curtains cover the windows and the couch is black leather against a dark gray wall. The throw pillows are all dark in theme with the decorative fronts: some words, some skulls or a monster of some form, and some directly related to rock, but all implying a dark undertone. A big screen television is mounted to the wall over the mantle of the fireplace, an electric guitar hanging to each side, though each different in looks. He has two recliners in front of the wall directly across from the television that match the couch, with a gun cabinet sitting between them, a lock hanging on the outside.
“Sweet crib.”
“What were you expecting?” I jump at his voice just outside of my ear. Fuck, how does he do that? “Floral and subtle colors?”
A dry laugh escapes. “Maybe no decor at all. Definitely messy and bland.”
“I’m pretty specific in my likes.”
“I guess that makes two of us.”
He grabs my arm and tows me toward the staircase. “Everything is pretty easy to find down here. You can wander anywhere except my bedroom and the basement without me here.”
One by one we climb the stairs until we reach the top floor. He opens the first door on the right. It’s a bedroom the same dark gray as the living room, only white, fluffy bedding is on the large dark-stained poster bed. It’s fully furnished, but otherwise plain. “This is your room. Do what you want with it.”
“Okay.”
He tugs me into the door across the hall. It’s a large bathroom with a freestanding soaker tub, the focal point for the whole room. The shower is separate. Aside from the black towels and the dark tile, it too is plain. “You can put your shit wherever you want. Everything you need for a shower in the meantime is in the linen closet. My bathroom is downstairs attached to my bedroom, so this is yours.”
“Thanks.” I start to back out of the bathroom and he grabs my shirt, pulling me back in, before shutting the door. He reaches for the bottom of my shirt and pulls it over my head. “What are you doing?”
“You’re going to shower the filth off of your body.”
He backs me against the door. His eyes fall to my chest, before returning to mine. He jerks at my shorts with one hand, pulling the button through the slit, and then he pushes them to the floor, leaving me naked for the second time tonight. I have no idea why he’s undressing me. “Are you showering too?”
“Not up here.”
“Then why are you removing my clothes? I’m a big girl.”
“Because I’d rather be the one to finish you off than to think you’re up here masturbating.”
He never leans in like he’s going to kiss me. His hand cups between my legs and two fingers enter me. I stare at him, my breathing starting to heighten. My legs part a little, giving him more room. He fingers me, but only for a few seconds before his fingers travel between my lips to my clit. Him staring into my eyes as he does it is more nerve-racking than anything I’ve ever experienced. I want to look away, but then I don’t.
He rubs me in a quick motion and his finger pressed firmly to my clit, adding a pressure I like. “Shit.”
He grips my thigh and pulls my leg up to his waist. I can feel it better. The back of my head slams against the door. “H-o-l-y fuuuuck.”
His lips slam against mine in the middle of my orgasm, hard and rough. My hands go for the back of his hair, gripping fistfuls as we kiss. He bites around my lip ring, turning me on more.
The feelings consuming my body fade almost as quickly as they started, leaving me in a blissful state, my eyes heavy. His lips slow when his hand stops, but he doesn’t immediately leave. He breathes heavily against my mouth, until finally, he pulls away. “Get some sleep and meet me in the kitchen at 7AM. We’re taking the day off to get your shit in order.”
I move out of his way when he reaches for the doorknob. Just as cold as he was at the beginning, he leaves, shutting the door behind him. My back falls against the door and I slide down, until I’m squatting just above the floor. My hands go for my face, trying to process what all has happened tonight. “Fuck,” I whisper, remembering the unprotected sex from earlier.
I drag my purse over from the spot I dropped it as he took my shirt off, digging through it until I find the Plan B emergency contraceptive I keep with me in case something happens. I used to be on birth control, but I only remembered to take it when I was sexually active, which basically means it’s not working, and dealt with the uncomfortable symptoms I had from it unlike most people. When I stopped having sex there was really no point anymore. I always just kept this as a backup and I’ve never let someone inside me without a condom. That was really stupid.
I place the pill on my tongue and stand, turning on the water. There is already a stack of small paper cups beside the sink. I grab one and fill it with water, making it easier to swallow the pill. If this is going to happen more often, I should probably consider getting back on a regular birth control in some form.
I turn and prop against the counter, looking around the room. The tub looks the most appealing of anything. I think I may. I haven’t soaked in a hot bath in a while, and after today . . . I think I need it.
