Dirty Addiction (Dirty 2)

She burps.

I laugh.

“I can’t do anything about the sunset. And I want you to want to fuck me,

just not date me.”

I grab the bottle of bourbon and pour myself a reasonable glass.

“So, what are we doing if we aren’t on a date?”

“We are negotiating.”

I take a drink of my bourbon. “And what are we negotiating?”

“What I want from you.”

She takes another drink of her tequila, emptying almost half of the glass, before she leans forward, the front legs of her chair touching back down on the ground. She harshly places the glass back on the table, and she folds her arms in front of her.

“Here are my terms. I want one week of filthy, dirty, tie me up, spank me till I come, dangerous sex. I want the kind of sex that makes me forget about everything. I want the kind that makes me feel alive again. The kind you only read about in naughty romance books or when watching porn. That’s what I want. Can you give me that, Brody?”

Her eyes are dark and serious when she talks. Her voice is stern and unwavering. Something happened to her to make her need this or at least think that this is what she wants. And I don’t care to know what it is. I don’t want to get involved in her clearly messy life.

I lean forward on the table so that I’m eye-to-eye with her. “I can make your darkest fantasies come true.”

She grins. “Good. I chose my man well then.”

I nod.

“Now, the terms. You are mine for the week. You don’t get to go around, fucking other women and then fuck me. I’ll have sex with you as much as you want this week, but I’m not willing to share.”

I smirk. “I don’t share either.”

“Good. I also don’t do attachment. We aren’t dating. We aren’t a couple. This goes nowhere after this week.”

“I don’t date, so it won’t be a problem—as long as you can keep your emotions out of this.” I eye her with suspicion.

She growls. “Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have emotions that need more controlling than you do. When I look at you, I feel nothing but the need to rip your clothes off.”

I narrow my eyes, searching hers for a bit of untruth. I find none.

“Satisfied?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Lastly, we don’t discuss anything personal. We don’t talk about what our jobs are or where we live. We don’t do last names. You don’t introduce me to your friends. I don’t hear about your past girlfriends, and you don’t ask about my past lovers. We learn nothing about each other, except how you like to fuck me and what each other sounds like when we come. That’s it.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“Do you have any terms or requests?”

“Just one. That you remember the word red. It’s your safe word when you can’t handle the pain or the sex anymore, and you are going to need to use it.”

Her eyes deepen, and her lips curl up just a little at that thought.

“I don’t think there is anything you can do to make me use that word. But I’ll remember.”

My eyes scan hers. She’s been hurt. Really, really hurt. She wants me to take away her pain with more pain and sex. She’s right that it will help her for the week. I’m just glad I won’t be there when she goes back to her normal life and has to deal with whatever crap she is hiding from me.