He makes love to me twice. I call it making love because there is no domination. No orders. Just pure, gentle, sweet sex. And I love it. I love it both ways, hell any way really, so long as it’s with him.
***
This week has flown by. I’ve already spent three nights at Gabriel’s, with another three boxes of lingerie delivered to my door. Each time I come here, he dominates me for hours. And when we wake up together in the morning, it’s always slow and gentle.
I wonder if this is what he normally does with all the women, and I secretly hope that it isn’t. The thought of Gabriel with another woman makes my skin crawl. It shouldn’t, given our circumstances, but I still can’t help it.
He’s already left for work this morning, so I’m left to show myself out. I pad down the hall to his guest bathroom to have a shower, pushing down any temptation to explore his apartment further.
As the hot water sluices over my sore muscles, I’m reminded of the night before. He was deliciously brutal with me, binding my arms together over my head and teasing me relentlessly. I had the most powerful orgasm yet. Or should I say, orgasms. Gabriel can never leave it at just one.
I step out of the shower and dry myself, opting not to bother with the half-torn lingerie I came here in. There is something about being naked under my trench coat that makes me feel uninhibited. But at the same time I make a mental note to start bringing a change of clothes. Or would that be too presumptuous? I don’t want to freak Gabriel out, but then again, why should it? A girl needs to have something to wear home, no matter what time she’s leaving.
As I exit the building, I’m stopped on the street by a tall wisp of a woman with long blonde hair. She is dressed to the nines in a skin tight black dress and Christian Louboutins. My heart skips a beat when I recognize her as Anya Petrovski, the model from Top Design. What I can’t comprehend is why she’s approaching me and waving to get my attention, or what she could possibly want to talk about.
“Well, look at you,” she purrs in a thick Russian accent. “You must be his pet project of the week.”
“Excuse me?” I snap. “Are you talking to me?”
“Of course, darling.” She laughs wickedly. “Poor, pitiful woman trying to sink her claws into Gabriel Maddox. Although I must admit, you definitely don’t look like his type. I’ve never seen you in any films, and I can certainly say you aren’t a model. He must be really scraping the bottom of the barrel with you.”
Anger surges inside of me, but it has nowhere to go. As usual, when faced with a woman like this, I seem to have lost all ability to think or speak clearly.
She eyes my trench coat suspiciously, shaking her head in disgust. “I can just imagine what you have on underneath that hideous coat. Doesn’t it make you feel like trash, leaving his apartment like that?”
Flames of embarrassment burn my face, and I clutch the belt a little tighter around my waist. “I didn’t catch your name,” I say flatly.
“Oh, don’t be daft, darling.” She grins. “I’m sure you know precisely who I am. And for the record, I’m Gabriel’s future wife.”
I feel as though the metaphorical rug has been ripped from beneath my feet. I don’t know how to respond. I wasn’t prepared for this, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m hurt. I want to make an intelligent comeback, but I can’t. Here I am, naked in a trench coat, being made to feel like a cheap whore.
“Just as soon as he tires of playing games with silly little girls like you,” Anya continues, looking down her nose at me. “He doesn’t care about you, you know. It’s just sex to him.”
I want to punch her. Right here in the street. And I’ve never wanted to punch anybody.
“Oh, look at your face,” she smirks. “Like a hurt little puppy dog. I’m sorry darling, I didn’t want to be the one to break it to you.”
I finally manage to move my feet. I turn in the opposite direction, yelling out a fuck you as I stomp off. It isn’t exactly my best material, but it’s the best I can do in the situation.
My tears are hot and heavy as I walk down the street. All I can hear is the sound of Anya’s amused laughter behind me, mocking me. I hate situations like this. I have no backbone when it comes to intimidating women.