“I don’t know, it was easier to go with the flow. There I was, almost thirty, and utterly alone; aside from Sanders. Who hated her, by the way. A very good judge of character, Sanders,” he pointed out.
“Duh. I would trust anything Sanders said. I would trust him with my life,” she was quick to comment.
“Goddamn, Tate, maybe you should be sleeping with him,” Jameson laughed.
“Who says I’m not?”
He smacked her on the ass, and some of the awkward tension between them eased as they laughed.
“Shut up, don’t make me kill him. He’s my favorite person – you can be replaced, Sanders can’t,” he teased. She chuckled. “Anyway, I figured why not. She was one of the hottest fucks I’d ever had, she was gorgeous, and I had gotten pretty good at tuning out her bitching. I went with it. Gave her the ring. Big mistake. I never got it back.”
“What made you finally end it for real?” Tate asked.
“I had tried to break it off a couple times; once when she flipped out after she caught me fucking this tennis player – she was not as free a thinker as you. She never wanted to have sex anymore, and when we did, it was always kind of weird. Well, you know, weirder than usual. I finally told her it was over, for real over. That I had never wanted to marry her, and would never marry her. She begged and pleaded. Cried. I could never resist tears, you know.
“We wound up fucking, and she asked me to hit her. She never let me do that before, never asked me to – she would let me do other things. Hot candle wax, cat-o-nine-tails, paddles; things she had the option of doing back to me. But hitting …, it’s kind of a one way street. You’ll never be able to hit me as hard as I can hit you,” Jameson said softly. Tate laughed.
“We’ll see about that.”
“Very few women will let you do that to them, I’ve discovered. Lot’s of other crazy shit, but not that, so it was kind of like dangling forbidden fruit in front of me. I was gentle, I didn’t do anything crazy. Slapped her once, maybe twice. She went fucking nuts. Fucked my goddamn brains out – almost comparative to you,” he told her.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tate snorted.
“I mean, it was crazy. Even for me. We were all over the place, every surface in the apartment. But then she started hitting herself. Hard. It got a little strange. I tried to stop her. She gave herself a bloody lip, pulled out a hank of hair, and when she came, she gave herself a black eye. I like some freaky shit, but that was too much. I got off of her, made her stop. She laughed at me, said that I was the freak, that there was something wrong with me for liking the things I like, said she was gonna tell everyone, sell pictures of her face to the press. Fucked up. I packed a bag and left. I’ve never gone back to that apartment, though I’m pretty sure I’m still paying rent on it,” Jameson said.
“Fuck the apartment! What happened to crazy bitch!?” Tate exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. He smiled and traced a finger down the side of her face. Her hair was a mess and her eye makeup was smeared down her cheeks, but she was looking at him. Really looking at him, all of the detachment from earlier gone.
She is so beautiful.
“I should’ve looked you up,” he blurted out. Her eyes got wide.
“Excuse me?”
“Seven years. I should’ve looked you up. I thought about you. Wondered what you were doing. That night was a pretty big deal. I never imagined that you would turn out like you did,” he told her.
“What, like you?” she asked. He nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I wouldn’t have imagined it, either, back then. You unleashed something in me. Thank you,” she told him. He laughed and pushed himself so he was sitting up, resting back against the headboard.
“Don’t thank me yet. You were ready to kill me earlier,” he reminded her.
“I was hurt. I was stupid. I’ll get over it,” she assured him. He shook his head.
“It wasn’t stupid. I could’ve told you. I would’ve wanted you to tell me, I guess. Dealing with her isn’t always the most pleasant experience. We broke up last year, but besides having some investment plans together, we just run in to each other a lot. Sex happens sometimes. Old feelings get stirred up. It’s fucked up, but I’m kind of a fucked up guy,” he told her. She laid back down, facing away from him, and there was silence for a few moments.
“Old feelings, huh,” she said softly.
“Tatum.”
“Hmmm?”
“If I tell you something, will you please, please, not be a girl about it? Not read too much in to it?”
Tate propped herself back up. Pushed her messy hair out of her face. She scooted closer and rested her chin against his knee. He smiled down at her, reached out and ran a hand over her hair.
She deserves better than me.
“I make no promises, but I’ll try. I’m usually pretty good about it. Just not today,” she replied.
“I didn’t want to like you,” he stated bluntly. She held her breath, but kept staring at him. “When I first saw you, got them to hire you as a temp. I had no intention of knowing you. I just wanted to sleep with you again. You looked so amazing, and god, your mouth. That was my plan the whole time. I wanted to see if you were like how I remembered, if anything could ever be that good again. It was better. You weren’t scared of me, you stuck around. Were willing to take more than I was even prepared to dish out,” he told her. She laughed, leaned to the side and nibbled on his thigh.
“I told you, flattery will -,”
“I like you, Tatum. A lot. I don’t want you to leave. When you didn’t come home tonight, didn’t answer your cell phone, that was my first thought. That it was over, you were bored, didn’t care. I always thought it would be me first. I was upset. I don’t want to let you go, not yet. I like you,” he stressed.
She frowned at him, her brows creasing together.
“That’s very sweet, Jameson, but I’m not sure I understand. Why am I not supposed to be a girl about that?” she asked. He sighed, running his fingers through her hair.
“Because it won’t ever be more than that. You’re a friend, a very good friend. But that’s it. There will never be a ring from Harry Winston. I will never ask you to marry me. I don’t want those things, I never did. Not with Pet, not with anybody. I like to have fun, I like to fuck. I don’t want to put stars in your eyes, I’m not that guy. I’m the devil, and I don’t have any plans to change. But I like you, and I would like you to stay with me, for a little while longer,” he said.
There. He didn’t know how else he could say it. How did he explain to a woman that he only ever wanted to be …, how had she put it? “Fuck buddies”? He liked Tatum, probably a lot more than he was admitting to himself, or to her. But he didn’t want to get her hopes up. Things had gone so badly between him and Pet; he didn’t want that happening with Tate. She was someone he always wanted to call a friend. He wanted to hold her down, and bend her to his will, and make her do degrading, horrible things with him.
And I want her to be my friend.
“I’ll stay, Jameson. I’ll stay,” she murmured, moving away from him to lay back on her stomach.
“You’re okay with all that?” he asked. More silence.
“I have to be. It’s all you have to offer,” she finally replied.
“You don’t want more?” he pressed.
“Do you want me to lie?”
“No.”
“Of course I want more. I am a girl, you’re right. I want Prince Charming to ride up on a white horse, and carry me off to his castle. The only difference between me and other girls is once I get there, I want him to bend me over the throne and pull my hair while he fucks me hard and calls me names. But I know that’ll never happen with you. I’m not sure I’d even want it to be you – you are the devil,” Tate agreed with him. Jameson laughed.
“Prince Charming could never treat you as good as the devil,” he teased. She shrugged.
“Maybe
not. But maybe so. What’ll happen to you, if I’m ever so blessed to find this magical S&M Prince Charming?” she asked. He looked at the ceiling. He didn’t want to think about that moment.
“Go back to hell. Find another succubus,” Jameson replied.
“Whoever she is, I hope she’s as good as me,” she whispered.
“No will ever be as good as you, Tatum.”
13
Jameson watched Tate go home later that afternoon. She didn’t come back for three days. Three hair raising, teeth grinding, skin clawing days. She had said she wanted to be with him. He was halfway tempted to go find her and drag her home by her hair, force her to keep her word. But for the first time since they had started sleeping together, Jameson didn’t know if that would be welcome.
She turned up on her own, on a Wednesday night. Just strolled in to his library, like no time had passed. She kissed him on the cheek, then went upstairs to change her clothes. He didn’t see her again for about an hour, and when he went to look for, she was in Sanders’ room, playing chess. He felt left out, but he didn’t want to intrude. He wound up laying in bed, staring at his ceiling, thinking about her.
“I looked for you downstairs,” her voice came from his doorway.
“I’m not there.”
“Ooohhh, there’s a tone. Satan feeling especially devilish tonight?” Tate asked with a laugh, shutting the door behind her.
“No more than usual. How was the chess game?” he asked.
“Is that it? Sanders? I don’t have to spend time with him,” she told him. Jameson hadn’t looked away from the ceiling and she hadn’t come in to his field of vision.
“I don’t care. What have you been doing all week?” he questioned her. He felt the bed dip. She was sitting near his feet.
“Stuff. Just kinda moped around my apartment,” she answered.
“No more baseball players?” he asked with a smirk. She laughed.
“No. Truth? He was nothing compared to you,” her voice was low and husky. She had come to play.
Am I game?
“Nice words. The question is whether or not I believe you,” he said. She laughed again.
“I don’t really care whether or not you believe me. If you don’t want me sleeping with other people, just say so,” she told him. He paused.
“Was he any good at all?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How good?”
“Not as good as you. Not as good as Ang. But pretty good. I wouldn’t say no to seconds,” she replied.
“Did you come?”
“Twice.”
“Where did you fuck him?”
“The bar.”
“In the bar? Wow, Tate. I’m missing out.”
“I know. And in the back bar, on a pool table.”
“Hot.”
“I think I scared him a little, but he liked it.”
“I know the feeling,” Jameson laughed. Her hand rested on his leg.
“I could never scare you,” she whispered.
“You scare me right now,” he replied.
Suddenly she was crawling up his body. Her knees came to a rest on either side of his hips and he rested his hands on her thighs. Her hands were flat against his chest, pushing herself upright.
“Don’t be ridiculous, it doesn’t suit you. He wasn’t exactly a take charge kind of guy, I had to lead the way,” Tate continued with her story.
“Sounds like a pussy,” Jameson commented, laughing. She shrugged.
“Just different. Sometimes it’s fun to be in charge,” she told him. He stopped laughing.
“Do you want to tell me what to do? Take the lead here?” he asked. She chuckled, a dark sound, and suddenly she was leaning close, her teeth against his neck.
“No. You’re so good at it,” she breathed. He clenched his fingers, digging them in to her thighs.
“This isn’t very interesting. Little man, so scared of the big bad wolf that you had to hold his hand to help you get off. We should just stick to my stories,” Jameson taunted.
“Hmmm, maybe it wasn’t about all that. It was a change up. Someone treating me nicely, like I was a nice, normal girl,” she tried to explain.
“Nice, normal girls don’t fuck baseball players in the backs of bars,” he pointed out.
“Maybe they do. He thought one did,” she whispered.
Well this is new.
“If that’s what you want, then you better call your baseball player. I don’t want a nice, normal girl. I want a girl who likes to be knocked down and dragged around. A girl who wants to be smacked around and called a whore. I want a girl who will let me fuck other girls, and then get so turned on by that fact, that she’ll blow me while we’re driving down a highway doing seventy-five,” Jameson snapped.
True story.
“Sounds like a pretty hot girl,” she commented.
“Hottest girl I know.”
She was kissing him, suddenly, her tongue pressing against his lips. He grabbed her by the head and leaned forward, kissing her back. It felt like it had been a long time since he had tasted her mouth. He missed it. She gasped against him and her fingers flew to his shirt. She got about half of his buttons undone, and then she just ripped the shirt open before moving onto his belt buckle.
Three days was a long time.
“Fuck anyone else while you were gone? Engineers? Fast food workers? Doctors?” he asked while she yanked his pants down his legs.
“Not that I can think of, but ask me later, something might come back while you’re nailing me to the mattress,” she replied casually. He grabbed her hair and dragged her back up his length.
“You better not think of anyone else but me,” he growled. He could practically feel her eye roll.
“Shut up and fuck me.”
He thought maybe she’d want to go slow. Not that Tate had ever been a slow kind of girl, but she had been really upset the last time he’d seen her. They hadn’t had sex in four days. Three days ago he told her he would never want her as anything more than a fuck buddy. She hadn’t spoken to him again until that night, and even then, she had spent most of the night with Sanders.
But if her actions were anything to go by, she was fired up and ready to go, even more so than normal. She was either making up for lost time, or punishing herself. Or him. Somebody was getting hurt.
She yanked all of their clothes off, her nails scratching sensitive skin. She went down on him, no-holds-barred, just immediately deep throated him. He thought she was going to make him come that way, but then she was moving again. Crawling on top of him, pulling him forward, wrapping her legs around his waist. They moved together, hips pushing at each other, and she got louder, pressing her forehead to his while her nails dug in to the back of his neck.
“I want you to do it,” Tate panted. He was gripping her hips so hard, he knew there would be bruises.
“I think I am,” Jameson managed to chuckle.
“Hit me,” she breathed. He glared at her.
“No,” he replied. She laughed.
“You’re denying me?” she asked.
“Cause I don’t think you really want it.”
“Oh, I want it.”
“You’re punishing yourself. I don’t want to hurt you,” he told her. She shook her head.
“You can’t hurt me. I want to be punished. Please,” she begged.
“You’re angry at me. I’m not doing something just so you can hold it against me later,” he snapped.
“I’m not her.”
He was suddenly very angry.
“Don’t fucking talk about her,” he swore, halting his movements, leaving her impaled on his length.
“Oh, that makes you angry? You talk about every other girl you fuck. Why don’t you talk about her? She must have been pretty special to you, Kane,” she said in an evil voice, rotating her hips against his. “Pretty special. An amazing fuck, you said. Was she tight like me? Did she get wet like me?”
“Shut you
r fucking mouth, Tate,” he warned.
“Two years, she must have been pretty amazing. Do you want to pour hot candle wax on me? Whip me? Paddle me?” Tate asked, letting her head drop back.
God, this woman. If my dick gets any harder, it’s gonna kill one of us.
“I want to scar you,” he groaned.
“Hit me.”
“No.”
“This is what I want, Jameson. I want you to do whatever you want. I want to be able to do whatever I want. I’m not her. Just let go,” she urged.
“I can’t,” he whispered. She smirked down at him, her hips slowing their movements.
“Fine. If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will,” she snapped. He glared again.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he snapped back. She shook her head.
“Make me. Ang likes to play, and I trust him. Maybe he’ll do it,” she taunted.
“Stupid bitch, you better shut the fuck up,” Jameson growled.
“I’m sure there are lots of guys out there who would do it for me. Some random guy, in a hotel room somewhere. I’ll pretend to be that nice, normal girl. Let some guy think he picked up a sweet girl, and then I’ll let him fuck me. Fuck me hard; harder than this, harder than you,” she told him.
He slapped her across the face, and the response was instantaneous. She cried out and her pussy clamped down so hard on his dick, he almost came right then and there. Holy shit. He moved fast, slammed her down onto the mattress and then got up onto his knees, holding her hips up while he pumped in to her.
“Goddammit, Tate. Not every fucking thing is about you. I didn’t want to fucking do that, you stupid fucking whore. Fucking bitch,” he swore, slamming against her hips as hard as he could. She was shrieking.
“God, it was so good, please say it was so good, it was so good, so good,” she panted. He slapped her again and it drove her wild, caused her to trash and buck underneath him.
It drives me wild.
“Fucking hell, Tate. I’m going to fuck you every night from now on, for as long as I can. Cunt. Whore. Fuck. Why are you so fucking good to me?” he moaned, grabbing one of her legs and resting it against his shoulder. He grabbed her hand, placed it at her wet core, forced her fingers in and around herself. She was like his marionette, his own personal fuck doll.
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