"Fine, if you must, but I don't see how that would be enjoyable for you. I'm not really one for company today." I turn and begin walking down the hall again. I can hear him catching up to me.
"Bad night?" He asks as he steps up beside me, keeping pace. I'm a fast walker. It comes with the territory when you're raised in New York, the capital of fast pace living.
"Something like that." We make it to the elevator and stop. I press the button to call the car and stand here, motionless. I am unsure of what to say. I'm in completely new territory here. I can sense him staring at me from my peripheral vision. I can already tell I'm in for a long day and it's only ten in the morning. Tonight definitely calls for dancing and alcohol. I don't get drunk often; only when I need to leave the world of subconscious thought because my mind won’t give me a break. Okay, maybe it's more often than I would like to admit, but completely harmless.
After what seems like an eternity, the doors open and we step inside in unison. I press the button labeled with a one and wait for the doors to close. "What happened after I dropped you off?"
"I don't really want to talk about it." He pushes the stop button on the wall and the elevator halts. "What are you doing?"
"Getting the answer to my question." I lean my head against the wall. He cannot be serious.
"It's not something to talk about with another guy, and besides that, I don't even know you. Can you just leave it alone, Haddox?" I'm frustrated and I don't want to think about it. It's consumed my thoughts long enough.
He moves to stand in front of me, resting his hands on the wall beside my head. "You may not know me now, but you will." The heat in his stare makes me feel something I only feel after I've been drinking. I want him sexually. My mouth runs dry. "What happened when I left, Piper? Did someone hurt you?"
His face is so close to mine our lips are almost touching. This cannot be normal. I only met him last night. I may have an active sex life, but it's usually with someone I've at least known for more than what seems like half a second, and alcohol is always involved, otherwise it doesn’t interest me. The only people I've slept with sober are Nick on very rare occurrence and Cole, but that never turns out good; too many emotions at risk of getting involved. "Yes and no. Just a visit from an old friend that didn't go well."
I'm hoping my answer will suffice and he will leave the rest alone. "A guy?"
Of course, I was wrong. "Yes." The answer to that question makes me feel guilty. I'm not sure I even want to continue allowing my thoughts to continue in that direction.
"Did he fuck you and take off?" What the hell? What kind of guy asks a girl that question standing this close in range?
"That's none of your business, Haddox." I try to sound angry, but my voice sounds in the general area of breathless and hormonal. It's him being so close. It's throwing me off. I can't concentrate. His face contorts into a look of anger.
"I'm about to make it my business," he says. "Maybe it's time you experienced a real man and not a fucking boy. Then, and only then, will you be able to distinguish the difference." What does he mean? Why do I want to find out? I need to walk away and avoid him like the plague. For some reason, I get the feeling that's not going to be possible.
He pushes off the wall and presses the button for the elevator to start up again. The rest of the elevator ride is uncomfortably silent. Right now, I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Why me? This is definitely going to be a long ass day...
I woke up this morning to Reese banging on my door. We leave for Vegas in a few months. It's one of the biggest fight venues we use, packed full of people. He wants me to talk Alyvia into coming. So far, the west coast is the only fights she has yet to come to. When did I become the bitch boy? If he wants her to go he can beg her himself, and I told him so. That brings us to why we're here. I'm here for moral support only. Who the fuck am I kidding? I would be lying if I didn't admit that I came to feel out Piper some more.
There is something about her that has me curious. Curious in regards to a woman is rare for me. I have no reason to be since it will never go anywhere beyond fucking. A man like me is not relationship material. I have more respect for any woman than that. I would say that my interest is peaked only because she is playing hard to get, but Alyvia straight up shut me down when I tried to get in her pants and all I did was laugh and move on.
Most women are fairly easy if you learn to watch their body language and read between the lines. They're all looking for something. When up front and honest about your intentions, usually they're game for the same things. It's the men that are liars and committing fraud with their motives in regards to women that are the problem.
I am a man of control in all aspects of life. Most men that partake in a lifestyle like me in any form actually contract a submissive for a given amount of time, but that isn't me. I don't like to commit myself to any particular thing, women and sex included. My demons run too deep. I have different needs at different times. I have to keep all people at a safe distance, which means less frequently acquainted.
I enjoy the lifestyle similar to a Dom because of my preferences during sex, but I'm self-taught. I don't need anyone else teaching me what I can teach myself. I sure as hell don’t live my life based on rules and regulations except in my career. I focus more on temporarily controlling the women I bed instead of over a longer term. It's better for everyone that way. I don't need anything that can pull the trigger to the destructive monster that resides inside. You want to know who Haddox Hayes is? I'm whoever the fuck I want to be. I don't place myself in any one category.
When Piper opened that door something sparked inside of me. I want to know her. Who the hell knows why, maybe because the girl is hot as fuck and is giving off a vibe that she needs to be pleasured in a way no one has ever pleasured her before. Clearly, she is lost in herself and needs help defining who she is. She needs to be taught how to submit to a man that knows how to respect her body, treating it in the aspect that it was designed for. In respecting the body, you're also respecting the mind. That is what separates the men from the boys. She needs to learn the difference in opening herself up to a new lifestyle in which only true adults participate in, not horny teenagers just trying to get their dicks wet. Lastly, she needs to recognize the destructive pattern she will end up in fucking guys that only think of themselves first and not their partners. It should always be a mutual effort by both parties in the bedroom.
It's not hard to read Piper. She wears her emotions written all over her face. That's why I asked what happened to her last night. There was a huge difference in the firecracker I met last night and the depressed shit I saw this morning. The part I didn't expect was the rage that occurred inside me at the thought of actually confirming she was with someone else. It felt like a storm starting to develop.
I don't get jealous, ever, because I have no reason to be. I show a woman what a real man is, giving her an escape from the sorry-ass-man each of them are trying to pick up the pieces from, and then I move on. The smart ones will learn that there are real men in the world and never revert back. Some of them come back for seconds if they can find me, but I graciously decline.
A relationship is a contract of sorts. If I were going to bind myself in a contract of any form, aside from my career, it would be that: one woman, one time. Multiple occurrences would then be violating the terms. Anything more and unnecessary complications arise for both of us. For now, I'm going to push back the possibility that I just had a jealous reaction to a woman I just met and move on.
The door chimes as the elevator stops on the first floor. When it opens Piper exits so quickly you would think there was a fire. I can't help but to smile. Good, I've made her uncomfortable. I tend to have that effect on people. It's part of my charm. I follow behind her until she steps out of the building. You have to love the busy streets of New York on Saturday. "So, where will it be first, Piper?"
She looks over at me as I stop beside her. Her long, black eyelashes touch her o
live skin when she widens her eyelids, revealing those beautiful eyes that are the perfect shade of amber and brown, reminding you of warm whiskey. They're unforgettable. She bites the corner of her bottom lip, something I've noticed her do frequently. "I was thinking Starbucks. Are you sure you want to do this? You still have a chance to back out."
"Let's get one thing straight. I never do anything that I'm not sure about. That's just the kind of person I am. I don’t have anything else to do today. Are we walking? I don't think you'd want to attempt driving in this traffic. We probably wouldn't get there until dinner." She laughs and damn is it sexy. Laughter looks good on her.
"Walking sounds great. I'm sort of carless at the moment. It's nice out anyway." I want to ask her to elaborate on that comment, but she seems to open up more when I don't push her.
"Lead the way. Ladies first." Her eyes hone in on me as if there is something she wants to ask or say, but she doesn't. Instead, she turns and starts walking down the sidewalk. We keep a fast pace, barely speaking the entire way to the coffee shop. Walking in New York leaves little time for talking.
I open the door to the coffee shop for her to enter. The line is long, ending with only enough space for us to walk inside and shut the door. She stops and I close in behind her. She's tall for a girl, but still a good bit shorter than me. I bend forward slightly, until my lips are next to her ear. "How about you find us a table and I'll get the drinks. What do you want?"
Her shoulders tense a little bit, but she doesn't question me. "Latte, make it skinny," she responds and begins weaving through the people in the direction of the seating. I find myself looking at her ass in those tight pants. The girl was gifted with good genes.
The line moves at a rapid pace as orders are shouted left and right. I get her latte quickly and search her out in the crowd of people glued to books, laptops, and other electronic devices. She doesn't immediately see me, so I stop and watch her. She has a fist full of pencils in several different shades and what looks like charcoal or some other kind of sketching product. Her sketchpad is laid out before her. She fans out the drawing utensils at the top of her notepad, making them all perfectly even with each other. If I had to guess, I would say she's a perfectionist.
I notice her gaze out the large window, lost in thought. I follow her line of vision to a couple standing at the driver's side door of a vehicle as if they're saying goodbye. It doesn't take a mind reader to know that look. She's broken. That should be a massive clue for me to stay away, but for some fucked up reason it bothers me. She must catch me staring from her peripheral vision, because she turns to look at me, trying her best to smile, but it's fake. Okay, it's time to end this depressed shit. I have enough darkness dealing with my own inner demons than to sit and sulk with someone else.
I walk in her direction and sit her cup beside her sketchpad. The paper lying on the table before her remains blank. She looks at the cup and then up at my empty hands as I sit down in front of her. "Thank you. You didn't get anything?"
"I'm not a coffee drinker," I say as I look into her eyes. It's kind of hard not to. They are the first things you notice when you look at her face, sucking you in like a gravitational pull. I find myself wondering how they would look as I fuck her into oblivion.
Her voice interrupts my thoughts. "Then why didn't you say something before we came to a coffee shop," she asks sarcastically.
I like to see a little fire coming out. Headstrong women make for a better lay when the roles are reversed and I show them who it is that’s in control when in the bedroom. "Because I just came along for the ride. Maybe you should try it sometime," I say, winking at her.
I notice her blush slightly as she looks down at her paper, picking up a pencil. "Are you always so fierce?" She never looks up, just begins drawing lines on the sketchpad under her. She's drawing left handed, an interesting thing to note about her.
"Yes."
"Okay..."
"What's your story, Piper?" I'm not usually much of a talker. Talking leads to questions. I'm more of a physical kind of guy. It's one of the reasons I'm so good at fighting, but she obviously sparks some kind of interest I'm not yet sure about.
She stops sketching and looks up at me. "Are you actually interested or is this just some scheme to get in my pants? Let's be honest here. I'm not the kind of girl that has to be lied to. You don't have to butter me up. If it's fucking you're after just say it so we can save the unnecessary chatter and move on. I've been around guys long enough to know what they want when they look at me. They assume beauty and no brains, a spoiled rich girl with no depth; I get it."
My jaw steels listening to her refer to herself as a piece of ass and nothing more. I get a bad taste in my mouth. This is the kind of shit that gives men a bad reputation. If more men would grow a pair of balls and be upfront with a woman on their intentions, there would be no manipulation or hurting women emotionally. I may not do the whole relationship and commitment thing, but I've never once led a woman to believe otherwise.
I lean back in my chair, draping my arms over the back. I remain silent for a moment, staring at her. "You want to be honest? Let's get one thing perfectly clear, sweetheart. If I only wanted to fuck you, you'd already be in my bed. Do I want to, yes, but you're not ready for me. Right now, you can't handle the kind of pleasure that I would bestow on you. Your mind is clouded by some other prick you shouldn't even be wasting your time on. I will decide when you're ready for this, because it is like nothing you've ever experienced before. One time, and you'll never mess with boys again," I say, holding up my index finger from the top of the chair back.
She tosses her pencil down onto the partial sketch and leans back to mirror me, but crosses her arms over her chest. "So, why don't we start fresh, Piper? Obviously we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Haddox, male counter-part in the friend zone to Alyvia, which is also your roommate, and you are," I ask sarcastically.
She begins to smile, although, she's trying her best not to. She's tightening her lips together as proof. You can see the laughter in her eyes. "Are we really going to go there?"
"Oh, we're already there, baby."
I lace my fingers together on the back of my head, waiting for her to continue. She breathes out, clearly trying to feign frustration, but it's not working. I see through her like glass. "Fine. New Yorker born and raised. Parentals are Van Morgan, CEO to none other than Morgan Investments, and Jenny Morgan, small time model that wanted but never got big. Only child. I live, breathe, and adore fashion, as well as all things related; I have since my aunt allowed me to tag along at a modeling photo shoot when I was twelve. I was a private school brat, Tri Delta sorority girl in college while I got my bachelors in Fashion Marketing and design with a minor in art, and lover of all things sweet. I'm a lover, but can be a fighter. I'm not fond of kids; they scare me. I'm a travel junkie, hate cats, and have an obsession with all things technologically related. I hate to sit at home and usually will talk until you tell me to shut up. That about sums me up, I think."
I'm trying really hard not to laugh as she sounds like she's either reciting her resume for a job interview or creating a profile for an online dating site. It's the cutest damn thing I've ever seen. I like watching her talk. She gets animated when she begins speaking quickly. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-three, but I'll be twenty-four in December. That's enough about me. It’s your turn. Spill," she says, picking up her coffee and putting the lid's pour spout resting against her plump bottom lip. They are easy to imagine wrapped around things, a particular thing.
Fuck, I'm getting hard.
I clear my throat and sit up a little in my chair, anticipating for it to return to its relaxed state. "I don't like to talk about me."
"You're not doing this one-sided conversation thing. The way it works is you ask something about me and I tell, then you do the same. Got me?" She smiles, a teeth revealing smile, thinking she has me all figured out. If only I were that easy to crack.
I lea
n forward, resting my elbows on the small, round table. "Okay, but I have a few rules."
Her forehead wrinkles slightly as if she's thinking, but then her expression clears. "What kind of rules? What if I don't like to follow rules? What then?" She continues to sip on her latte in between conversation.
I place my hand over the growing humor in my expression, trying to hide my amusement. The sad, depressed girl she was when I first got to her this morning is starting to fade. I will gladly accompany it elsewhere, because I am growing rather fond of this playful side. "Didn't your parents teach you what happens when you don't follow the rules?"
"Well maybe they would have, had they actually set them before I graduated college. My dad is obviously going through a midlife crisis in the parenting department, or perhaps he's just always been backwards. Maybe this is his attempt at holding on to me. When I lived at home he didn't care what I did and in college he was paying my tuition and handing out money constantly, so he had the upper hand with my grades and behavior." She's flailing her hands as she speaks, waving her manicured nails through the air in front of her.
I cut her off. "Well, it's fairly simple." I lean forward some more, across the table in her direction. "My rules are that I don't discuss anything about my childhood or any period of time before I moved to New York. Questions related to that time of my life will be thrown out and I'll get pissed off. I have never broken this rule for anyone, ever. You break the rules by trying to push me to talk about it, you get punished." I rake my eyes over the upper half of her body. "And don't think I won't thoroughly enjoy it."
She narrows her eyes as if I'm joking. I'm not. I don't talk about anything that could trigger a memory and hurt someone. It's hard enough to keep that shit buried for my own good. "You haven't told Alyvia?"
"Nope."
"Ree-"
"Anyone, as in no one...ever."
She puckers her lips, again narrowing her eyes at me. I want to bite those lips. If she keeps doing that I'm going to slam her on top of this table and fuck her for everyone in this room to see.
Fight for You Page 5