Cruel Beloved

Whiskey doesn’t tell me much, and to be honest, I never really cared to ask. But I can see this place is truly his, compared to the one I’m currently staying in.

“Yes, she was an unnecessary evil.”

“Did he remarry?”

“No, he loved her to his dying breath. The damn idiot.” He shakes his head. “This was his place, now it’s mine.”

“Why the other place?”

“I bought it after I met you.”

“With the intention of me living there?” I ask.

“Yes. You needed somewhere where it wasn’t in my personal space.”

“You put me in the same room as you,” I say defensively.

He shrugs. “I like the way you smell.”

My mouth falls open and my nose turns up. “You didn’t just say that.”

Whiskey’s eyes roam me. “I didn’t say what smell.” He wiggles his eyebrows. Then he walks off. I follow him through the dark hallway that leads to a gleaming white kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Two stools sit on one side of the kitchen counter.

Whiskey heads to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “Are you avoiding drinking around me still, or would you like one?”

I haven’t had a drink in months, avoiding it has been necessary after what happened last time. After all, I am still paying for that gigantic mistake.

“Are you planning on recording me again?” I ask.

“No. The only cameras in here are the ones at the entry. Unless you want to stand in the entry and strip…” he raises an eyebrow in question, “… then no. But I wouldn’t mind a strip show… for my eyes only.”

With a sigh, I walk over and take the beer from his hand then sit on the stool.

“That’s my girl.”

“I’m not your damn girl.”

“Your ring and last name tell me otherwise.”

“I didn’t change it.”

“But you did on Facebook.”

“Yes, because that’s what matters,” I say with an eye roll and sarcasm dripping from my words.

“To your father, it does.”

I take a sip of the beer, it tastes good. I’ve missed the bitter taste. “Why am I here, Whiskey?”

He comes around and sits next to me, turning so his body is facing mine. “It’s hard to stay away from you.” His words hit me hard. “And I seem to become extremely jealous with you.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of,” I reply, and he smiles. “I was never yours to begin with.”

His smile drops. “We could have some fun. Why won’t you have some fun with me?”

“What kind of fun?”

“Sex,” he states.

“With you?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes. No one else.”

“What do I get?” I ask, even though I’m ready to say yes. I’m a weak woman right now, and I really do want sex but I may as well get something out of it. Is it classed as selling myself when it’s something I want?

“I’ll take another month off,” he says quickly.

“A whole month for you to have my body, just once?”

“No. Every week.”

“Every week,” I say, sitting back. “Eager much?”

“I was going to try for every day, but figured I was pushing my luck.”

“So, only eight months left then. If I agree, that is.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s add in some clauses, shall we?” I take another sip of my beer.

“You sleep with anyone else… it is off. No more sex. And you will not come on to me at all, or touch me inappropriately.” He nods. “Two, if I don’t want to, you can’t threaten it against me. It’s my choice each week.” He doesn’t nod, his eyes stay firmly on mine. “Three, it happens on my time, not yours.” His teeth do that thing again, where they drag over his bottom lip.

“Are you done?”

“For now.”

“Okay, so I can take you now?” He stands, goes to reach for me.

“I haven’t agreed. I was just giving you examples of what I would want,” I say, holding up a finger.

Whiskey-colored eyes darken, and in one swift movement he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. “I’ll be tearing this dress off with my teeth.”

I giggle.

What the ever-loving fuck.

“Put me down.” I say between giggles. He does, and it’s hard to wipe the smile from my face.

25

Whiskey

I would have knocked the contract down by half if she had tried to push further, but luckily for me she didn’t.

“I want extra time off. Eight isn’t enough. I want it down to six, and you have yourself a deal,” she states.

Six months?

Will that be enough?

She puts the beer to her lips and drinks. I watch, while she knows full well I want that mouth wrapped around my cock.

“Only six months left?” I ask her.

She smiles. “Yep. If you want me.” She puckers her lips. “Six months left.”

Fuck, well, I didn’t see that coming, thought I’d gotten away with it. But no, she always has something up her sleeve. I guess six months will work.

“I get to have you, and you can’t touch anyone else,” I tell her, pulling the beer from her hand.