Bought (His For A Week)

He laughed. “That’s your question?”

“Just need to know the ground rules.”

Sitting down, he finished off half his bottle before replying, “No. That would get tedious.”

“Do I have to call you Master all the time?”

It would be easier for her sake to set some consistent rules, but he didn’t like sweating the small stuff.

“The more the merrier,” he said, “but I’m not going to require you to do it every time. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

“Would you like your sunglasses back?”

“Keep them for now. They look good on you.”

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to them. They seem like expensive glasses.”

“They’re just sunglasses. It’s not like I can’t get another pair.”

“I’m so bad with sunglasses—losing them and scratching them up—that I only bother buying cheap ones. Once in a while I’ll splurge and get a pair from Nordstrom Rack. Anyway, fair warning: your shades aren’t safe with me.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She seemed to understand that his statement referred to more than sunglasses. After a brief awkward silence, she tossed her hair over her shoulders. He imagined sinking a fist into those curls and pulling her head back to expose her throat. Though he tried not to fix on her naked body, the tension in his groin was still tightening.

“So,” she began, “you get off on making women display themselves as objects?”

She was trying to sound nonchalant and curious, but he detected an edge to her question. He passed his tongue over his lower lip as he contemplated how best to answer.

“I get off on seeing naked women. Given I’m not gay, there’d be something seriously wrong with me if I didn’t. Don’t you get off on seeing a guy naked?”

“Depends on the guy.”

“Idris Elba.”

“Well, sure. There’d be something seriously wrong with me if I didn’t.”

She was parroting his words back on purpose, as he had done to her.

“Then what’s the problem, other than the fact that I’m not Idris Elba?”

She blinked several times—then laughed, a genuine non-nervous laugh. He liked it.

“No, you’re not,” she acknowledged, “but I guess it doesn’t matter for you.”

“That’s right. Because when I want, I’ll make you forget all about Idris fucking Elba.”

Her mouth was agape in that sexy way again, a little dumbfounded but not dumb.

“I don’t think Idris Elba would make women sit around naked just for kicks.”

“How do you know? Men aren’t that complicated.”

“Some men have evolved beyond caveman thinking—or lack thereof.”

“A lot of women like cavemen.”

“That’s because they’re not enlightened.”