Degrade

by T. L Smith

  “Why?” I ask as I maneuver to the window of the two-story building, and when I look down, I see him leaning against his car. My heart speeds up just looking down at him. He dressed in casual dark jeans and a plain white shirt though he looks like a million dollars.

  “‘Cause, I want you.”

  “Ah ha,” is all I can say to that. What woman doesn’t want to hear that a man that can fuck and look as good as he does, say those words?

  “Come down,” he says in a demanding voice. “Please,” he adds lastly. I look around to find Ember at the window and she nods her head excitedly.

  “I’ll be right down,” I say and hang up. I go to the mirror and check my reflection. My hair is down, angling around my face, I have heels and a skirt on. I push my c-cup boobs up a bit higher in my low cut shirt and nod my head. I can do this. I can see him and not just fuck him. Then why the fuck was I checking to make sure I looked okay? I’m fucked!

  He pushes away from the car when I exit the doors and looks me over, his eyes roaming all over me. He always seems to be doing that. Never giving anything away with his facial expressions or lack thereof.

  “You’ve been ignoring me? Why?” he asks and walks closer. I back up, wanting to put some distance between us. He notices and stops his descent.

  “I’m not a fuck bunny, I won’t be there to just please you. I want more, which I don’t think you can give,” I say and look down at my feet, not wanting to look at him in the eyes.

  “Well, I want you. So, I guess we’ll have to work on that little situation of yours.” His voice is low. I look up to see his eyes still on me, assessing me again for a reaction.

  “You don’t even know me,” I reply because it’s true. He doesn’t know a thing about me.

  “I know what I want, always have. And I get what I want, always have.” He smirks with those last words.

  “What do you do for work?” I ask, wanting an insight into him. He sighs at my question.

  “Can we go for drinks if we’re going to play the ‘get to know you’ game?” he asks waving his hand to the car.

  “I’m not getting in the car with you,” I say, knowing if I do, I’ll be a slave to my desires. He looks around unsure of what to do or say.

  “There’s a bar across the street, let’s go there. Shall we?” he asks waving his hand in front of him motioning for me to go. I nod my head and we walk side by side heading to the bar. I don’t know what to say. Deciding to look from the corner of my eyes, I want to see his eyes, but they’re facing ahead. He’s so deliciously handsome it makes resisting him difficult. Once we reach the bar, he opens the door for me. We enter and take a booth in the back. The bar is quiet and there’s possibly only five other customers apart from us. The waitress comes over and takes our order. I tell her I’m okay, but Zeke orders two red wines and a cheese platter.

  “Why have you been avoiding me, Bexley?”

  Hmm…straight for the jugular he goes, no pleasantries with this man. The waitress comes back and places the platter on the table with our wine. He picks up a piece of cheese and opens his mouth sucking before chewing it. His lips are slightly wet, and his eyes have gone completely dark. I want him, I want this man bad.

  “It will never work,” I say and sip my wine. Shifting in my seat, I cross my legs while he watches my every move.

  “I know it would,” he says simply.

  “It wouldn’t,” I retort back, looking at him. He smirks at me the cocky bastard.

  “You’re sitting there right now, squeezing your legs tightly together trying to contain your reaction to me. Your eyes go hazy when you look at me and you bite your fingers to try to stop yourself from giving in to your desires. But the thing is, my cock is pushing against my pants right now. I want to bend you over this table, hike your skirt up and fuck you in front of all these people to show to you that you’re craving me as much as I’m craving you. And by the way, if I wanted to, you would let me.” I drop my hand from my mouth and stare at him in anger because he’s right.

  “You’re a cocky son of a bitch, you know that?”

  “I told you, I’m a man that gets what I want, Bexley.”

  “And you want me?”

  “Yes, and I want you.”

  I nod my head thinking about this. Would it be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done? Or should I try? I’ve been in relationships before, but none, absolutely none, has made me feel the slightest bit of attraction that he pulls from me. Perhaps I should run with it, see where this desire comes from? Though I won’t make it easy for him. He won’t get me to bend over when he says so, or when he pleases.

  “Come home with me?” he asks, standing and offering me his hand. I don’t say anything, I just stare at his outstretched hand, the hand that I want covering my body.

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I say, defiance in my voice.

  “If you say so.” He smirks again. Fuck him, and all his hotness.

  He gets his way that night, and I stay at his house for two days. Doing nothing but lying in bed with him, watching movies, sleeping, but mostly fucking. He’s going to break me, fuck me, and then toss me out like trash when he’s done. And I can’t seem to say no to him. No matter how strong I am. I’m fucked.

  True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.

  ~Francois de La Rochefoucauld~

  I wanted her, I knew this. She’s the one rule that I’ve broken, and I did it for her. She hasn’t left my house for over a month, since that day in the bar. I told her to quit her job during an orgasm and she did, then I told her to move in with me when my mouth was between her legs and she did. I wonder what else I could get her to do for me? It's sort of become fun, a game if you will, to see what this beautiful woman would do for me. She was resilient at first, but she gave in quickly. I knew she would. It’s the way things work. I’ve had women at my beck and call all my life, but I don’t push them as far as I’ve pushed Bexley. She’s different, I like the way she looks at me, the way she sees me. Like I’m the air that she breathes.

  “Out,” I say just as she steps in. I know it’s her by her quiet footsteps and the perfume that wafts through the air after her. I’m in the middle of a big deal. She cannot disturb me, I’ve told her this.

  “I’m making a roast, when will you be done?” she asks standing at the door. I look up at her and she smiles.

  “I don’t want a roast, I want turkey, and I will be done when I’m done. Now leave,” I say and turn back to my computer. See, what did I tell you, I like to push her. She’s spent all day in the kitchen. I could hear her banging pans and swearing. So I test her just a little bit further to see if she’ll do what I say. When I emerge a few hours later, there’s turkey on the table. I look up to her smiling face and go straight to bed. I hear her smash a plate in the sink. She’s pissed at me, but she’ll never tell me, only taking it out on inanimate objects. She comes in not long after. I’m scrolling through more emails on my phone. She strips naked and lays next to me, her hand touches my bare chest. I remove it and place my phone down and go to sleep.

  I know what I’m doing to her is wrong, but I like it. It’s like my own guilty pleasure that only she can please. I will break her down.

  The days pass by fast, and I’m hardly home. When I do arrive home, I fuck her into submission, and she does whatever I please. I’m a bit surprised that she’s letting me do this because I assumed she had more of a backbone. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this won’t last long after all.

  She comes out dressed in a skirt and a very short shirt, one that sits just under her breast. Her cleavage is on display, and I instantly want to fuck them and come over her. She passes my office door like she does daily. This time I have a client, and he notices her and I can tell he likes what he sees. Dunker is a scary man, a dangerous man, to some. To me, he knows where he stands.

  “She yours?” he asks as Bexley stops at the door to say something to Cora. She doesn’t like her, I can tell.

>   “You could say that,” I say eyeing her; her skirt situated on her tiny hips. Her ass is luscious and gives volume to her skirt. When she turns, so Dunker can view her full on he wolf whistles and brings her attention to us. She blushes when she sees me, and smiles softly before walking to the door. She stops and smiles at Dunker though it’s reserved.

  “You going out?” I ask, fully aware Dunk is eye fucking her, storing her in his memory bank.

  “Yes,” she says and plays with the bag she’s holding.

  “I need you in my room in five minutes, Bexley.” She knows my voice when it’s rough, I want her. She leaves without an argument, and I know she’ll be there waiting for me, doing as she’s told.

  “Fuck, where do I find me one of them,” he says pointing to where Bexley was standing.

  “Time for you to leave,” I say and stand. He follows, smirks and winks as he departs, knowing full well what I’m going to do to her, that I’m going to fuck her.

  When I enter the bedroom she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands still twitching inside her bag. Her eyes look up at me and I’m mesmerized by her beauty, the same way I was the night I first saw her. She is truly beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  “Remove the top,” I tell her unbuttoning my pants and letting them drop to the floor. She hesitates for a second, unsure if she should test me. Eventually, she listens, though, and her top comes off easy with the zipper at the front.

  “I want to fuck your tits,” I say palming my cock, stroking it. “Are you wet, Bexley?” I ask standing in front of her now. She looks up and nods, and she bites her lip. Wanting what I can give her, fucking her until she sees stars.

  “Lean back on your hands, push your chest up.” She does and I bring both her tits together and lean down sucking on each nipple, paying close attention to each one. I grab the lube from the table next to the bed and lather myself up, then her tits. She shivers from the coldness when I apply it to her chest. I place my cock in the middle, squeezing her tits to suffocate around my cock. She leans forward and licks the top of my cock and I fuck harder, she repeats this a few times until I’m coming all over her, her skirt now ruined, with my evidence all over it.

  “I have a rule, Bexley, think about this rule before you walk out that door tonight. You are mine. While you’re here, no one is to touch you. I am not yours, don’t think otherwise. But the rule…the rule I want you to remember is never ask for more. Don’t ask for more than what I can give you. If you do, you leave.” She stands in front of me, her mouth agape. Her eyes widen with shock.

  “Why?” she asks leaning down for a towel and wiping her chest roughly while pulling her shirt on to cover her naked breasts.

  “I give you what you need, Bexley, do I not? I give you a home, I give you money, and I give you orgasms like no one else can. That is all you will get. Do not expect more, or don’t come back.” I turn my back to her and walk into the shower. I hear her leave the bedroom not knowing if I will see her again. Probably not. I know she wants more, she’s made that quite clear in the past. But I’m a selfish bastard and need her, need my own desires met. They aren’t all met. I could keep her longer, use her longer than anyone else. She has that redeeming feature about her.

  I scrub my face in the shower, my hands running along my jaw wondering what she will do, but trying to not to care. A person like me doesn’t care, shouldn’t care. I haven’t known her long, but I know every inch of her body. The way to make her scream, to make her happy, to make her sad.

  A towel is wrapped around my hips when I enter the bedroom. Bexley is sitting on the bed, biting her fingernails. “Bexley,” I say, her eyes shoot to mine. She’s a bit more broken than she was before. Chip by chip she’s coming apart.

  “I don’t want to want you,” she says her eyes dropping to her hands that are in her lap now, her leg shaking up and down in nervousness.

  “I want what we have, but when I want more. I’m leaving you,” she says straightening her spine, sitting up like she actually believes what she’s saying. I smirk, knowing I get to keep playing with her longer. Keep all those pieces that I’m chipping away at.

  “If you say so,” I say to her climbing into bed.

  “I don’t need or want your money, Zeke, I don’t need or want any possessions. I have a lot of money, I just chose not to flaunt it,” she says, which surprises me.

  “What are you talking about, Bexley”?

  “I mean, the only reason I’m here is because of you. When I feel I can’t do this anymore, or that I’m less of a person than I’ve already have become, I’m gone. I know what you’re doing to me. You degrade me, chip pieces of me away. Though in actuality you don’t, you force me store everything you do in my memory. Waiting for it to explode, waiting for the time bomb I will unleash once it’s all too much. Don’t think for a second I won’t. I may think I love you, but there’s only so much one person can take. And then, I may ruin you,” she says and walks out the door, still dressed. Leaving me impressed and turned on by her words.

  Who is this girl?

  Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry.

  ~Erich Segal~

  You’re thinking right now I’m an idiot and that I should just leave. I’m right, aren’t I? Well, I am, as well. I want to leave, I want to be me. But I also want him, for reasons I can’t quite understand yet. He has this weird and strange hold on me. I think I’m falling in love with him, which would be the most stupid thing I could possibly do. But the way I feel when he’s around me, in me, makes me think that maybe, just a little bit, he may actually be worth it. Maybe, I can chop away at his rule; perhaps he will make an exception for me. I didn’t chase him, he chased me. So he’s lying to himself if he thinks he won’t break that rule. He will…he will for me. I know it.

  I was expecting to go out for dinner tonight, but that didn’t go as planned. As I step into the living room my phone rings. I groan, it’s the last person I least want to talk to – my father. Though I have ignored him for long enough so I pick it up.

  “Papa,” I say, as soon as I answer the phone. He immediately starts yelling at me in Italian. I wait for his tirade to finish before I say anything. Ignoring him, I always speak in English.

  “Did you hear a thing I just said, Bexley,” he huffs into the phone.

  “Yes and no, Papa. You want me home. As soon as you said that, I may have tuned out.”

  I hear his heavy breathing, indicating he’s getting frustrated with me. “I haven’t heard from you in over a month, Bexley, this is not appropriate. I raised you better than to disrespect me.”

  “Look, I’ll call tomorrow. I’m busy right now.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me, young lady,” he yells in Italian. So I do exactly that, I hang up.

  My good mood has been shut down, Zeke now Papa. I want to scream at them. Why don’t any men in my life put me first? I pull my blonde hair through my hand and decide to go back to the bedroom. I know Zeke is awake when I enter, his breathing isn’t deep. His eyes are open when I meet them and they’re on me.

  “Who are you?” he asks sounding interested in me.

  “Whoever I want to be,” I say stripping out of my clothes and climbing into bed next to him. There’s a dull light coming from the full moon outside, so when he climbs on top and pins me with his weight, I can see all his facial features. His eyes are always so blue like the Mediterranean Ocean, that’s how I would describe them. His forehead is crinkled in thought as he looks down at me.

  “You think you love me?” he asks, his facial features tight, not wanting to hear the words.

  “I’m not answering that,” I say staring at him, trying not to show him the emotion on my face. How could I give love to someone that clearly can’t return it?

  “Who are you?” he says with a warmth I’ve ever seen from him.

  “You know who I am, Zeke.”

  His face scrunches again and he shakes his head at me. �
�I think I know what you choose to give me, I guess it’s only fair I do the same,” he says which earns a smile from me. I lean up and place my lips on his; wanting the warmth he’s showing me. His lips touch mine and they’re slow and sensual. I taste the minty toothpaste on his lips and slide my tongue in, wanting access. Access to whatever he’ll give me.

  “Will you come with me tomorrow?” he asks breaking away, but his lips just barely move away from mine.

  “Yes,” I say not caring where, I would go anywhere with him.

  His lips make their way back to mine, and his large warm hands slide down my side, owning me. I run mine over his chest, feeling the scars and bullet wounds, loving all the roughness this man has to offer. His hands dig into my hips, more than likely bruising me. My hands come up to wrap around him, working their way down to his ass. My other favorite feature of this man. He stops my hands and pins them above my head, holding them there with one hand. His other slides between my breasts, slowly moving down my stomach, then to his cock, which is pressing against me. He slides himself in, making me arch and find his mouth. My hands are glued by his, not moving as he starts sliding in and out, slow at first, then faster and faster. His lips touch mine; I bite his lip and open my mouth wide. He moves faster, making me come and he isn’t far behind, and when he does he collapses on top me. Releasing my hands, so they can touch him, feel him, he lets me and he’s not moving. I trace his back and feel the exit wound of one of his scars as I move my fingers gently across the mark.

  He lets me feel him for a good few minutes until he slides off and out of me, and then he pulls me to him. Cradling me in his arms, I take joy in the moment of comfort, and before I know it I’m out like a light.

  ****

  We’re at a restaurant that Zeke owns. He’s told me he owns quite a few bars and restaurants, this being one of his favorites. Dunk is sitting across from us, talking to Zeke as I order a wine while trying not eavesdrop. But when a woman who looks a lot like Megan Fox, except she’s covered in tattoos and wearing barely there clothing, walks up to us, my mouth drops open. She sits on the edge of the table and places her leg up on the chair. Turning so she can smile at us, her eyes stop on me for a second before they flash back to the men. Following her is a rather attractive man, who I would guess is maybe in his early to late thirties. On his arm is an exquisite redhead, who’s wearing a dress that you’d wear clubbing if you wanted to get laid. They both stop at the table and the redhead sneers at the dark brown haired beauty.