Beg Me

We fuck three times this morning. He pounds me on the kitchen sink, against the fridge, against the stove. I even ride him in the shower. Our passion is unparalleled.

“I’m not going into work today,” he announces, drying his hair with a towel. “I just want to spend the day with you.”

He glances at himself in the mirror. He sprays one spray of that incredible cologne of his and shaves the stubble off his face.

His stature is confident and proud, and I have to wonder how he’s not already married, or at least taken in some way.

Later, he cooks me brunch. “You’ve never been married?” I ask.

He dips a piece of soft bread into batter and throws it on a pan. The sound of sizzling fills the room, and my nose is hit with an incredible, buttery scent.

I meander forward and kiss his neck.

“Never,” he says. “Not a fan of marriage.”

I raise a brow and bite my lip. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck marriage,” he says, flipping the French toast and cracking a few eggs.

My heart throbs. My stomach sinks. I’m not entirely sure how to react.

He throws some bacon on a separate pan and continues. “Before I met you, that was my philosophy. Now that I’m being hunted by some Syndicate-affiliated, hotel chain owner with a gold tooth, I realize I was foolish. To be honest, I’m surprised no man ever tried to wife you up.”

“Fuck marriage,” I say, grinning.

This time he turns around, dropping the spatula onto the counter.

I continue. “I thought the same. I’d rather fuck and be single than get married and never have my freedom.”

“Good point,” he says, resuming the cooking. “You know, I’ve never been serious with anyone really. There was this one girl, but that was back in my twenties, and it lasted a total of eight months.”

“That’s at the point of becoming serious. What happened?” I ask him, curious.

Did he scare her off? Did he cheat on her? I don’t know why I’m pressing the issue. I should be glad to have this moment with him, but now we’re talking about love.

I want to make sure he really means what he said last night.

“I caught her taking money from my accounts,” he says. “And that wasn’t even the big issue with us. She said I worked too much, but she would go out and buy Versace once a week. That, coupled with the fact that she fucked my best friend and business associate, Daryl, at least three times. I had to break it off. I didn’t believe in love for decades after that.”

Now I get why he used to hate the idea of marriage.

“Wow,” I whisper. “I didn’t realize you’ve felt heartbreak in your life. You’re so put together.”

He turns the stove off and flips the bacon onto some paper towels, allowing the grease to soak off.

“Hasn’t everyone felt heartbreak? We’re all prone to getting hurt once or twice, I think,” he says. He grabs the remaining food and throws it onto two plates. “Voila! Brunch is served.”

He sets the plates down and pours two glasses of orange juice, with coffee on the side.

“You’re right.” I say. “I had a serious boyfriend once. He also cheated on me. I guess that’s pretty normal nowadays.”

He shakes his head before taking a bite. “No excuses. If you tell someone you love them, you better mean it,” he says. He glances at me and reiterates the point. “Sorry, I don’t mean that as a weird threat. I just think this love business is taken for granted nowadays. It’s sad.”

I nod, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. When I take a bite of food, I’m left wondering why anyone woman would want to leave him.

The food is incredible. “This is the best brunch I’ve ever had.”

“Good,” he says. “You better get used to it. I cook every single day.”