Taunt Me (Rough Love 2)

“It is true, Mistress Mysterious. I’m not the only one you’ve fascinated.”

I looked at the nearby couple, whose discussion was devolving into a fight. “I’m not trying to be fascinating. Or lonely,” I added. “I’m trying to protect myself.”

“From what? From whom?”

“Everyone. Especially you.”

He gave a small laugh and took my hand. I didn’t hold his hand back, and he let go.

“What do you want?” he asked. “I mean, self-protection aside, what are you looking for? What would make you happy?”

I didn’t even know how to answer that. I wanted something like what W had given me, but I didn’t think there was anyone else who could provide that. What he did to me wasn’t what the Doms at Valiant did to their subs. It wasn’t negotiation and “play” scenes. It was roughness, grasping, breathlessness, peril. Craziness and emotional manipulation.

“I won’t be able to find what I want,” I said, because in my heart, I knew that I wouldn’t.

“That sounds very negative,” he said with a sigh.

“If you want—”

“It’s not what I want,” he interrupted. “It’s clear to me that I’m not what you want. I’m trying to help you find what you want. I know a lot of people in the Manhattan scene.”

“Did you ever know this guy…?” I paused, thinking how stupid it was to even ask. “Did you ever know this guy who was tall, blond, and kind of into rough stuff? I mean, really intense stuff, with no negotiation?”

“No negotiation? That’s not safe.”

“No, he wasn’t safe. But did you ever know a guy like that around Manhattan, in the scene?”

He turned to me with a strange look. “Why? Do you know this guy? What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know him.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked. “Rough stuff? I know people who’ll do that, but they’ll want to negotiate first.”

“Are any of them tall? Blond? Muscular? Around your age, with blue eyes? Maybe in a design career?”

A hint of anger crept into his expression, just for a moment. I understood I was describing someone who looked nothing like him. “No,” he said, his voice still tight with an edge. “I don’t know anyone like that. Sorry.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. What was I doing here? The fighting couple was a noisy metaphor for the upheaval in my soul. Cantor was right, I didn’t want him. I still wanted W, and hated myself for it. I uncrossed my arms and shoved myself up, thinking how to get out of here with the least amount of awkwardness.

“Chere.”

“I’m sorry if I led you on,” I said over my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have. I was confused. I thought maybe I wanted to play with you back in the club, but now I’m sure I don’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with you. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings?” He snorted and came over to me. “Don’t worry about my feelings. I’m a big boy. I would have liked to take a whack at that wall of yours, but it seems like you have someone else in mind.”

“No, there’s no one else. I don’t want anyone else. I need to be alone. I’ve made so many bad choices. The fact that I don’t want to get involved with you probably means that you’re a good, healthy person, so you should feel flattered.”

He rubbed his forehead. “You’re hurting my brain.”

“I know. I’d better go. You’ll still have time to hook up with someone else if you go back in.”

He glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to go home.”

He was going home to his wife and kids. His wedding ring shone in the neon glow of Studio Valiant’s sign. I knew I was doing the right thing, even if it left me feeling lonelier than ever.

“Can I see you to your place first?” he asked.

“Sure. Thanks.”

We walked together to my building, a long, quiet, awkward walk while I questioned my decision. What was better? Settling for a relationship I didn’t really want, or living in loneliness? It seemed like the answer never changed. It was better to be alone, in control of my own miserable destiny.

I didn’t ask him to walk me upstairs to my door, although I think he still held out a glimmer of hope. I just apologized again. When he asked if he could hug me, I said yes.

It was a respectful hug, a friendly hug. He held me against him longer than I was comfortable with, but he didn’t do anything wrong. He just made me realize how dead I was inside, because I didn’t feel anything. Loneliness, sadness, all of it bundled inside me like some insidious tumor, growing bigger each day.

I headed into the lobby and up to my apartment. Exhaustion washed over me as I turned the key in the lock. I was so tired, so wrung out from my fucked-up night. I threw my keys in the basket on my kitchen counter and went to the fridge for a water bottle. As I twisted off the cap, I heard a knock.