been using aside and then unwrapped his injured hand and began cleaning the wounds on his knuckles. It felt strange to just stand there and watch him deal with the consequences of my behavior, so I reached for a clean washcloth, got it wet and then closed my fingers around Nikolai's wrist and pulled his hand to me. I dabbed at his injuries with as much care as I could.
"Who was that guy?” Nikolai asked after a moment.
"Tiny?" I asked.
Nikolai nodded.
"Just some guy."
"An ex?" Nikolai prodded.
I found myself chuckling. "Not even close." I didn't add the fact that I didn't have any exes because I’d never been in a relationship before. I sighed and said, "He's just a guy who has trouble understanding the word no."
"If he doesn't hear the word, you need to send your message another way," Nikolai responded. His voice was firm and unwavering.
I nodded because I knew he was right. The fact was that I’d thought I could talk Tiny down. I’d thought that I could make him see that his particular brand of roughness when it came to sex wasn't something for me. I'd made the mistake of fooling around with the man one time. A simple blowjob had turned degrading and ugly and I hadn't allowed things to escalate from there. I had no problem with guys who liked being humiliated or treated like they were nothing but a body to play with, but it wasn't for me and I’d told Tiny I wasn’t interested on more than one occasion.
"Any chance he won’t get the message no matter what you say?" Nikolai asked. I knew what he was thinking because I was starting to wonder about it myself.
"No," I said with a shake of my head. "I don't think he wrote those letters to Cliff. He doesn't know my last name or where I work and even if he did, he wouldn't refer to me with the words from those notes. He wouldn't call me beautiful."
"What would he call you?" Nikolai asked.
I dropped my eyes. How had we gotten to this point in the conversation? Nikolai's fingers skimmed my temple for the briefest of moments. If the man wasn't gay, he sure as hell should be because his touch was magic.
"Slut, cocksucker, stuff like that," I murmured as I went to wash out the washcloth. I turned my attention back to cleaning up Nikolai's hand. Thankfully, Nikolai stopped asking questions. I could feel the heat of humiliation in my cheeks as I considered what he must think of me. It was at that same moment that I turned over his hand and saw a phone number written on his palm. It was slightly smudged but still legible.
Angel.
God, what if Nikolai used it tonight or some other night? What if, at that very moment, he was waiting for me to be in my apartment for the night so he could go hook up with Angel?
Nausea permeated my belly enough to have me stepping back from Nikolai. I looked up and saw that he was watching me with heavy eyes. I could practically hear the pity in his thoughts.
"You have some flecks of blood on you," I said as I motioned to his face. I was feeling too off balance to risk touching him anymore, so I handed him the washcloth and took a step back. The need to escape was intense. "I should head home."
Nikolai ran the washcloth over his face and then tossed it into the sink. I could feel him behind me as I left the bathroom and hurried through the bedroom. I heard Nikolai talking behind me, but I could tell he wasn't talking to me, but rather to someone on the phone about replacing him outside my door for the rest of the night.
Of course.
Because he couldn’t fuck Angel in peace unless I was safe.
Because I was just a job.
Angel wouldn’t be. The pink-haired cutie was sweet and fun and easy.
And he’d soon be the recipient of Nikolai’s unwavering attention, his laser-like focus.
What would it be like to have someone focus that kind of attention on me? Just because they wanted to? Not because it was their job, but because it was a need? What would it be like if it was someone like Nikolai? Someone strong and kind with a good heart but a little bit rough around the edges? Someone who said what they thought but didn't strive to hurt with their words?