Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)

“When you want something from me, you give me buttons. And when I want something from you, I give you buttons.”

Now I didn’t know where this was going. She was repeating herself. “Can you get to the point?” I had nowhere to be, but I still hated wasting my time.

“I want something from you. And I’m willing to pay for it.”

My body heated with intrigue. Sometimes she asked to sleep with me, and that always cost her a button. I didn’t want to share my bed with her, but I desperately wanted that button. It was a small price to pay to fuck her throughout the night. Did she want something different now?

My thoughts immediately kicked into overdrive until I came to a conclusion. It got me hot all over the place. What if she wanted to hurt me the way I hurt her? What if she wanted to tie me up and whip me until I bled all over the floor? I’d never let a woman do that to me before. It never crossed my mind. But the idea of this woman doing it to me...sent me to the edge with insanity. She was strong and ruthless. She would whip me with such brutality I wouldn’t have to egg her on. She would do it all on her own. “What do you want, Button?” I kept my tone steady, hiding the excitement in my voice. My cock was hard in my trousers, and I resisted the urge to adjust it.

“I want more.”

More pain? More flogging? “More what?”

“I want you to take me to a show and dinner.”

My mind immediately went blank when I heard what she said. I wasn’t even sure if I heard her correctly. Maybe my fantasies got the best of me and interfered with what she said. I stayed quiet, hoping she would clarify.

“For two buttons.”

So she did say what I thought she said. “Is this a joke?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, holding her edge. “No.”

When my fantasy was shattered, I was left with irritation. “I’m not taking you out on a date. I already told you, I’m not your boyfriend.”

“I never said you were.”

“Then we have an understanding.”

She tapped her finger against her arm, thinking. “Five buttons.”

Five was a lot. That was the usual cost for a night with her tied to the headboard.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” She repeated my own words back to me. “But this is what I want. And the more buttons I spend, the longer you get to keep me.”

My intrigue piqued at those final words. If I took her buttons, she would have less in her jar. And she would be forced to stay here longer—possibly indefinitely. Maybe a date wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Ten.” I was getting as many buttons out of this as I could.

“Five. The number is non-negotiable.”

I knew ten was a steep push. Flogging her cost twenty buttons, and it would be ludicrous to charge ten just for having dinner with her. “I have a few questions.”

“I’m listening.”

“What do you get out of that?” She spent plenty of time with me. In fact, we had dinner together nearly every night. Then I fucked her into the mattress every night. Her lips were always kissed with my mouth. Why waste money on this?

“I get a lot of out of it, actually.”

I still didn’t see the benefit. Then it hit me right in the face. “You want me to take you to a city so you can run.” I was stupid for not reaching that conclusion right off the bat. “Not gonna work.”

“I’m not going to run.”

“Really? I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”

She leaned over the table, staring me down. “There’s no point in me running. I have no money and no papers to get on an international flight. The only way I can ever go home is if you help me.”

I couldn’t argue with that reasoning. “You could go to the embassy.”

“I have no idea where it is. And I don’t want to take my chances searching for it when Bones could spot me. I would much rather stay here with you than return to that psycho.”

My suspicion faded away. “I still don’t understand.”

“You’re my only friend, Crow. I like being with you even when we aren’t fucking. I just want more from you. I need affection. I need attention. I need something.”

Since she was a woman, I tried to understand her needs. She’d been cooped up in the house for months. Our conversations were minimal. We spent most of our time screwing. There wasn’t much more to it.

“And the reason doesn’t matter. I still don’t completely understand why you enjoy hurting me so much. Why your cock is so thick inside me after you whip me. But I don’t ask because it doesn’t make a difference. This is what I want. Take my buttons and give it to me. Or don’t.”