“Fine.” I roll my eyes at her and continue to play this ridiculous game hoping I’d get a ‘happy ending’ soon. “Bondage?”
“No, but I’m not opposed to it.”
“Fisting?”
“Oh, my God!” she yells, wincing. “NO.”
I give up in frustration; her naked body is begging to be fucked.
“Honestly, do you know how much I say during sex? You’re catching me at a weak moment. I can barely remember my name half the time.”
“Squirting,” she responds with a satisfied smile. “You told me you wanted to watch me squirt. Now, I can’t make any promises but this bad boy over here is supposed to do the trick.”
With a wide grin, I lean my head in far enough to rub the tip of my nose against hers; our lips inches away from each other.
“Do you know how much I love you?”
“Uh huh,” she says with a straight face until her mouth widens into a smile. “Talk to my vagina because the face don’t wanna hear it.”
I slap the side of her thigh which causes her to squeal, then straighten my back. My woman is about to give me the show of a lifetime. I realized then that she would do anything for me, as silly and boundary-pushing as it may be. And so, I would do the same for her.
Tonight, after all is said and done and I’m completely covered in her juices, I would sign the dotted line on the contract that had been sitting on our dining table for weeks. A contract that causes this huge divide between us every time we tried to discuss it.
Our own reality TV show.
Eight episodes.
One season.
All us—completely raw and unscripted.
The words are coming out of her mouth but they don’t make any sense.
Farrah continues to talk while standing in front of the mirror—wearing only her pink laced thong—applying fresh red lipstick onto her fake pout.
“I mean really, Wes, did you honestly not see that Emerson was fucking Logan behind your back?”
I saw. I watched. I felt completely helpless after my own actions. Despite our somewhat turbulent relationship, Emerson had a way of standing her own ground. She got what she wanted indirectly even if I didn’t know it at the time. I had controlled her wild spirit as much as I could over the years, but even then—she had a way of making me feel like I had zero control over her.
And perhaps—that’s why I proposed marriage.
Yeah, I loved her. She was convenient. We worked together and it was either her or some Hollywood bimbo like Farrah that would end up my wife. At least Emerson was hot and intelligent. She just had an annoying family that I planned to get rid of. Distance her from them as much as possible because I couldn’t stand them stealing her attention away from me.
That, and her brother was a fucking moron.
“What do you care anyway, Farrah? You sucked my dick, hell, you even shoved it up that tight ass of yours. Let it fucking go already.”
The shrill in her laugh is disturbing. “How can you let it go? You got played in front of the whole world!”
This bitch is riding my tail and it is time to cut her loose. I didn’t need anyone else shoving my failures into my fucking face.
“You’ve always been jealous of Em. The whole world saw that,” I respond too eagerly.
Her face remains stiff. Emotionless from the Botox injected into her once-youthful skin. I knew she was threatened by the truth. Finally, it’s enough to shut her up already.
Moving to the bed, she crawls towards me until she’s straddling my body with her tits against my chest. They’re massive—an eyesore—great for a tit-fuck but not as good as the real deal. Not as soft as Emerson. Don’t torture yourself.
“Funny, Wes. I was never jealous of Emerson Chase—I just didn’t like her. In fact, I despised her. Enough to make sure that big dick of yours got in trouble in Amsterdam.”