and in fiction. “Why do you like it?”
“Are you asking if something shaped my preferences?” At my nod, he said, “No. There’s no tragic backstory. No outlandish reasoning. I like control in all areas of my life. It’s what I’ve always preferred and who I’ve always been. Simple as that.”
Nothing about this seems simple.
“Are there rules and a contract?” I asked.
“There are rules, but I’m not big on wasting time and energy producing a bullshit contract that isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. We’d communicate like any other relationship.”
I flipped the fork back and forth, pressing the prongs down on the cake crumbs as I gathered my nerves. “Do you, uh, share or loan out your—”
“Fuck no.” Maximo’s eyes blazed as he pinned me with an intense stare. “If you’re mine, you’re mine.”
That was all well and good, but it didn’t mean there weren’t a dozen other women spread about, loyal to him while he alternated between them.
I swallowed. “And you’re…”
“Every fucking bit as much yours.”
I had to force myself to breathe past the hammering in my chest and the thrumming of my clit.
Maximo must’ve misconstrued the tension that’d infused my body because his expression softened. “We can finish this conversation another time. Eat your cake and relax.”
I nodded but didn’t eat, my thoughts too busy racing. After a minute, I asked, “Is it only in the bedroom? Scenes or whatever?”
“No. It’s not playtime for kicks and giggles. It’s twenty-four-seven. If you agree, it will be your life until you decide you don’t want it to be anymore.”
“How would that work once I move out?”
His jaw clenched. “You won’t be moving out.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m eighteen.”
“And?”
“And I’m old enough to be on my own. Get a job. All that. I can’t just stay here and… what? Be your whore?”
Slamming a palm down on the table, he held up two tattooed fingers on his other hand. “That’s twice now you’ve insinuated I need to buy it. I don’t pay for pussy, and you’re sure as fuck not a whore. Whatever asinine notion you’ve twisted around in your head, get it out of there. Now.”
His words helped wipe away the shame that’d been festering. The little voice in my head that’d said I was wrong to be intrigued by what he offered. That I was a whore for wanting it.
I focused on my plate. “I just don’t understand this.”
“Look at me.” Once I did, he asked, “What part?”
“What would I do?”
“You’d do what I say. Beyond that, swim. Read. Sew. Do whatever the hell you want.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“Other than you? I get to take care of you.”
“And that’s worth all this?” I asked, not understanding how taking care of me was beneficial to him.
Leaning back, he rubbed his jaw, his thumb sweeping across his bottom lip. “Oh, little dove, it’s more than fucking worth it.”
If it were possible to spontaneously orgasm, I was sure I would have.
Trying to stay on track, I asked, “The stuff you’d tell me to do… is it unusual? Like, do you have a fetish?”
“Fucking Christ,” he muttered, but he didn’t sound insulted, so that was good. “No, Juliet. I’m not going to ask you to dress in a gimp suit and beat the shit outta me or anything like that.”
“Gimp suit?”
“Never mind. What I’m saying is, all things considered, my tastes are fairly tame.”
“Except you like complete control over everything,” I deadpanned.
But Maximo didn’t take it as a joke and merely lifted his chin in agreement. “Except that.”
I was glad he wasn’t into anything weird, but I still wasn’t sure I could do the basics. I’d never had sex. I could be awful at it.
It was entirely possible he was going all-in to win a five-buck pot.
Inhaling deeply, I blurted in a rushed whisper, “I’ve never had sex or done much of anything.”
At his quiet curse, a pit formed in my belly.
He’s gonna change his mind.
And I’m disappointed.
Why am I so disappointed?
“Look at me,” he ordered.
And what is his obsession with eye contact?
Still, I did as he said and was relieved to see a satisfied smile curving his lips. “I’ll teach you what I like.” His smile grew into a wolfish grin. “More importantly, I’ll teach you what you like.”
Definite spontaneous orgasm.
At my silence, he prodded, “What else are you confused about?”
“It seems abrupt.”
“It’s not.”
“We don’t know anything about each other,” I pointed out.
“What would you like to know?”
I thought for a moment before starting with the basics.