CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“I'm sorry, Amy, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that.” Derrick gives me a sympathetic look.
“Don't worry about it. I meant it when I said I'd rather spend the afternoon with you.” I take the roses to the kitchen, admiring them in my arms. Not only do they look expensive, but they smell incredible, stronger than any roses should. Roses on steroids, I decide with a smirk. “I have no idea what I'm going to do with these. I don't think I have a vase wide enough for all of them.”
“I know what I'd do with them,” Derrick mumbles.
“Throw them in the trash?” My smirk broadens into a full-fledged smile, teeth showing and all.
“You said it, not me.” He puts his hand on his hip, looking sassy.
Dear God, I missed him.
I set the roses down on the kitchen counter and wrap my arms around him, swaying slightly while I press my head against his chest and inhale the scent of his cologne. Fresh and clean with the tiniest hint of masculinity. “I'm so friggin' happy you're here.”
“Me too. I missed you a lot.” He kisses me on top of the head, and for a few moments, I'm the happiest woman in the world. “I still don't like him though.” He nods towards the door.
“He was rather pleasant to you. I'm surprised.” My eyes widen for effect, even though I know he can't see it.
“Probably because he knew I would kick his ass if he wasn't.”
“Really?” I pull away from him, a grin still plastered across my face. It feels like it's been forever since I smiled this much.
“Hey, I have muscles too.” He flexes, and we both laugh.
“The muscles of a chicken.” I roll my eyes and walk to the refrigerator to pull out two bottles of water.
“So, are you still going to see him tonight?” I can hear the jealousy in Derrick's voice.
I take a deep breath, thinking. For as much as I hate to admit it, seeing Lucian all dressed up made me really horny.
“Yes. I'm going to see him tonight.” I nod, deciding that I just want to get laid. Would it be wrong to use Lucian for sex? The thought doesn't make me feel half as guilty as I think it should.
“I will accept that you're seeing him, but I'm never going to like him, just so you know.” He takes a bottle of water from my hand and walks around me to sit on the sofa.
“I'm not sure I'm ever going to like him either.” I join him on the couch.
For the next thirty minutes, we update each other on everything. I share all of Lucian's secrets with him, and there's no sympathy on Derrick's face. His thought process is much like mine. There are better ways to cope with loss than to whore yourself out and push everyone you care about away. It doesn't score Lucian any points.
Apparently, Derrick's advance on me was quickly forgotten. He's already dating someone else, a fabulous younger guy who does drag on the weekends. Even though I'm happy for him, it feels like we went through all of this drama for nothing, which is a bit irritating.
He doesn't leave until almost ten o'clock, at which point I immediately reassemble my phone and call Lucian. He answers on the first ring as if he's been waiting for the phone call all night. I like that because I honestly didn't think he would answer at all.
“How about you come over here?” he says.
“Aww. I thought you wanted to see my apartment,” I tease.
“I did see your apartment.”
“Oh, bullshit. You stepped inside the front door. That's hardly seeing it.” I shake my head. In truth, I'm tired and I don't want to drive. Besides, he's supposed to be the one making all the effort.
“I'll cook for you.”
It's a tempting thought, but still not enough. “I don't want to leave.”
He lets out a small sigh. “Alright. I'm still going to bring food though. Will Janice be joining us for dinner?”
Janice. Shit. I totally forgot about her. Even though she won't be home while we're eating, she will be coming home after work. I'm not sure if we'll still be up or not, but I don't want her to see him. I don't want him to see her. It pisses me off that I'm still so insecure about the two of them being attracted to each other. That moment at Fleshfest is burned into my mind, the way he looked at her. I doubt he'd give her the same lustful glance in her Walmart uniform, but still.
“I'll head over in a few minutes. Let me freshen up first. Cook me something yummy.” I quickly hang up the phone, not wanting him to ask questions about why I suddenly changed my mind.
Once I'm off the phone, I exhale deeply, wondering why I made such a big deal about the Janice thing. She may find him attractive, but she acts like she hates him. Doesn't she? Or does she just hate him being with me?
***
Apparently, Lucian just freshened up as well, because when he opens the door, he's wearing the same thing he had on earlier. Not that I can complain, because so am I.
“I'm surprised you're not half-naked,” I tease as I show myself in.
“Would that have made it easier for you to forgive me?” He leads me into the dining room and pulls my chair out like a perfect gentleman.
“Maybe.” I smirk at him over my shoulder.
“Then I'll strip for you right now.” He plays at unbuttoning his suit jacket, but when I put my hand on top of his, he stops. “I hope you like lobster.”
“Oh, expensive. Everything is expensive tonight, grand master chef. You're kissing my ass so hard your lips are going to be brown for a week.”
“Amy.” He furrows his brows at me.
“Too crude?” I draw my hand up to my mouth in mock apology. Oddly, it feels like most of my tension is gone. Spending time with Derrick worked wonders for my mood. And knowing that I'm really just here for sex makes me feel empowered.
“Maybe I should be glad I didn't take you to the restaurant.” There's no amusement in his tone. Did my ass kissing comment really offend him that badly?
I decide to blow it off, waiting patiently while he brings and serves me my food like a good little waiter. Seeing him leaning over to place my plate in front of me, his body angled at the hips and his back flat like a board, I can picture him waiting tables at some expensive restaurant. The thought makes me smirk, picturing him being poor, just a regular Joe. He was probably never a regular Joe though, not with a face and body like his.
“The library is open,” he tells me as he sits across from me. “Ask me anything you'd like.”
I'm so taken aback by his sudden blatant desire to share his life with me that my mind goes completely blank. I had originally planned on being nasty, asking him all of the dark, seedy questions that I knew would make me not want him anymore, but knowing that I actually want to have sex with him tonight, it doesn't seem like the smartest move.
“I've got nothing.” I mirror his movements, trying not to make a mess of my lobster tail.
“I'm surprised.” He stares down at his lobster, concentrating on cutting it up. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do.” I feel my appetite slowly waning, my happiness fading away with the seriousness in his voice.
“What can I do to make you happier?”
I abandon my lobster to poke at my broccoli. As usual, everything on the plate is healthy. Not a carb in sight. Surely, the guy has a piece of cake from time to time. A bag of chips. A potato. Something that's not a protein or non-starchy vegetable.
“Don't push me away.” Is the first thing that comes to mind.
“I already told you I wouldn't.”
“And don't sleep with other women.” This one should be obvious.
“It's just you from now on.”
“And quit working at Flesh.” I expect an immediate response, but he just grunts this time. When I look up at him, he seems lost in thought. “And quit working at Flesh,” I repeat, putting more emphasis on the words.
“I can't do that.” There's a coldness in his tone that sends a spike of pain through my heart. I'm not sure why it hurts. He already told me that he wouldn't give up working at Flesh.
“Why not?” I set my silverware down and stare at him.
“It's complicated.” He avoids my gaze, stuffing a piece of lobster in his mouth as if him eating will end the conversation.
“That's not an answer. We're being honest and open here, remember. You tell me or I leave. That's how this is going to work.”
He swallows hard and looks up at the ceiling. “I need things that you can't give me. Things that I can only get at Flesh.”
“What kind of things?” I continue eating, content with the fact that I got him talking again.
He clips his bottom lip with his teeth for half a second, and my eyes zero in on the tiny red marks where I bit him earlier. It's at that moment I realize he's wearing concealer.
“Holy shit, you're wearing makeup.” I practically burst out laughing.
He narrows his eyes at me, not amused. His hand moves to the place where I bit him, and he brushes it lightly with his fingertip. “It's important to keep up appearances.”
“Do you always wear makeup?” I lean in to look at his face better.
His jaw tenses, and I realize that I'm starting to piss him off, which makes me instantly pull back. “No, Amy. I don't always wear makeup. Only when upset girls decide to bite my face.”
“Sorry.” I sink down into my chair a bit.
“It's alright.” He brushes the place where I bit him a final time before dropping his hand back to his lap. “I kind of deserved it.”
“Kinda,” I huff. “You try to force yourself on me and then say you kinda deserved to be bitten.”
“To be fair, you pretty much kicked my ass for it, so I think we're even.”
“Kicked your ass?” I parrot back and then laugh again.
“Yes.” He smirks. “You bit my lip and broke skin. My leg is bruised. And the jewels haven't exactly recovered either.”
I practically snort wine out of my nose at that last part. “Oh lord, your poor jewels. I'll kiss them better later if you're a good boy.” I wink at him.
“Will you, now?” He picks up his glass and swirls the deep red wine, giving me a look that wipes the grin right off of my face and brings a blush to my cheeks.
Can't get distracted. Can't get distracted. I still need to know why he won't leave Flesh.
I cough, trying to break his spell of seduction that's quickly driving my mind to dirty places. “Flesh,” I stutter. “Why won't you quit?”
“I told you, for our relationship to work, for me to give you what you want and for me to still get what I need, I can't give it up.” He takes a sip of wine.
“That doesn't make sense to me though.” I shake my head. “I'll give you whatever you want as long as it's within my power. At least, I'm willing to try.”
“Amy.” He sucks a breath in between clenched teeth. “There are things that I do to people there that I would never in a million years want to do to you. You're very...precious to me. The thought of seeing you hurt the way that I need to...” His face sets with agitation. “No. The answer is no.”
“No?” I quirk my head back. “Lucian, this isn't optional.”
“And neither is me leaving Flesh.”
When he looks up at me, it feels like his gaze is piercing right through me, shooting through my heart and nailing me to the wall. This is what I feared would happen—what I knew would happen. I'm not enough for him. This isn't going to work out.
My desire to be intimate with him is lost in the seriousness of the situation. I pull my napkin off of my lap, ball it up, and set it on the table before pushing my chair back.
“What are you doing?” his tone is suddenly alarmed.
“What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving.” I stand and pull my purse off of the back of the chair. “I came here so that we could discuss the potential for us having a relationship. You don't want to budge on your stance. I won't budge on mine. This conversation is over. We obviously aren't good for each other and can't be together.”
“Amy, wait.” He stands to stop me.
I give pause, looking at him. “It's Flesh or me. You have to choose.”
The panic in his expression is almost palpable. “Amy, you don't...I can't...If I did to you the things that I do to those women, you would run the other way. Fast.”
“Try me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“No.” He shakes his head.
I throw my hands up in annoyance. “Then that's it. This is over. Thanks for dinner. I'm sorry I didn't get to eat much of it.” I head to the door, but he catches me by the wrist. It's a classic Lucian Reddick move. I know what he's going to do next, and I'm not in the mood for it.
“I don't want to do those things to you because I care about you.”
I turn to him. “If they're so bad, then why do you want to do them to anyone?”
“Because I have a lot of pain inside, and I need to get it out somehow. This is how I do it.”
“That doesn't make you a very good Dom.” I jerk my arm away from him, and surprisingly, he doesn't try to grab me again.
He licks his lips, avoiding my gaze. “It doesn't make me a bad Dom. They want me to do it to them. They get off to it. And I get what I need from it as well. It works. But as I said, they're not things that I would ever want to do to someone I care about. Especially not to you.” He finally looks at me, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes.
I take a deep breath and wrap my arms around myself. Now it's my turn to look away. I want to help him. I want to be his one and only—the person he comes to for everything, the one who fills all of his emotional needs. But to do that I'm going to have to take a big leap of faith, to try something that I'm becoming increasingly more worried that I won't like. And at this point, I'm not even sure if he'll let me try.
“Lucian,” I hesitate. “If this is going to work. If this has any hope of working, I need to see every part of you. The good, the bad, the ugly. I want to know what you do to those girls.”
He opens his mouth to speak but then doesn't, taking a moment to gather his words. “No, Amy. It's bad enough that you know this about me. I never wanted you to know.”
I step forward and slide my hand into his before closing my eyes. “If you're not going to tell me, then show me. Let me judge for myself if it's something I can handle or not.”
When I open my eyes, he's grinning. But it's not a playful grin or even happy. If there was any more sarcasm behind his expression, I might die from an overdose.
“You couldn't even handle the mild things I do, love.” His tone is bordering on arrogance as if he's actually proud of how intense he can get. It's a bit annoying and unnerving. Just seconds ago he was afraid of my reaction. Now he's basically calling me a pussy.
“Try me.” I cock a half-smile.
“I don't have to try you to know. Your pain tolerance is low and don't say it's not because I've read it on your original chart from Flesh at least half a dozen times.” His face goes serious.
My mouth falls open. I'm astonished that he has looked at my chart that many times since we met.
“It might have gotten a little higher.” There's no masking the uncertainty in my voice. I'm definitely trying to put on a brave front, and we both know it.
His grin broadens into a smile, and this time he's definitely amused. He leans forward to kiss my forehead, and I wince away though I don't know why. “See, already scared that I might hurt you.”
“Am not!” I pout.
He sighs, staring at me thoughtfully. “Can't we just leave this as it is? I'm giving you most of what you want. Let me have this.”
I don't want him to have it though. Because if I let him have it, it means that I'll always be sharing him in one way or another. That thought hurts. I should be enough for him.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest again. “I want to see what you do to those girls. I want to know that...” That you're not seducing them. That you're not touching them inappropriately. That you don't look at them the same way that you look at me. All impossible things when I'm switching places with them. Because it's not the same. It will never be the same.
“I don't want you to know.” He shakes his head slowly.
“Then I should leave.” I nod decidedly. If he won't let me at least attempt to bear this weight for him. If he doesn't even want to give me a chance to try to be his everything, then I'd rather be nothing to him.
His expression softens. “You have to be the most stubborn woman I've ever met.”
“Touche.” I roll my eyes. “Minus the woman part, of course.”
I expect him to finally give up. To let me go. We both know this isn't working. It's a constant battle to make each other happy, and it's pretty obvious at this point that we're never going to win. But then he says, “I'll show you.”
“You will?” My heart leaps in my chest, half from joy and half from fear. Part of me knows that I just signed a check that my ass probably can't cash, but I don't care. He's giving in to me, and at this moment, it's all that matters.
“After we eat.” He rounds the table to sit back down. “The food is getting cold. That's one thing I hate about lobster. Leave it for five minutes and it turns room temperature.”
I could not care less about the lobster. I'm so overjoyed that I've made some progress on the topic of Lucian and Flesh. If I can just endure whatever he does to me, then most of our problems will be solved. He'll give up Flesh, and we can finally have something close to a normal relationship.