“There’s a bar across the street, let’s go there. Shall we?” he asks waving his hand in front of him motioning for me to go. I nod my head and we walk side by side heading to the bar. I don’t know what to say. Deciding to look from the corner of my eyes, I want to see his eyes, but they’re facing ahead. He’s so deliciously handsome it makes resisting him difficult. Once we reach the bar, he opens the door for me. We enter and take a booth in the back. The bar is quiet and there’s possibly only five other customers apart from us. The waitress comes over and takes our order. I tell her I’m okay, but Zeke orders two red wines and a cheese platter.

“Why have you been avoiding me, Bexley?”

Hmm…straight for the jugular he goes, no pleasantries with this man. The waitress comes back and places the platter on the table with our wine. He picks up a piece of cheese and opens his mouth sucking before chewing it. His lips are slightly wet, and his eyes have gone completely dark. I want him, I want this man bad.

“It will never work,” I say and sip my wine. Shifting in my seat, I cross my legs while he watches my every move.

“I know it would,” he says simply.

“It wouldn’t,” I retort back, looking at him. He smirks at me the cocky bastard.

“You’re sitting there right now, squeezing your legs tightly together trying to contain your reaction to me. Your eyes go hazy when you look at me and you bite your fingers to try to stop yourself from giving in to your desires. But the thing is, my cock is pushing against my pants right now. I want to bend you over this table, hike your skirt up and fuck you in front of all these people to show to you that you’re craving me as much as I’m craving you. And by the way, if I wanted to, you would let me.” I drop my hand from my mouth and stare at him in anger because he’s right.

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch, you know that?”

“I told you, I’m a man that gets what I want, Bexley.”

“And you want me?”

“Yes, and I want you.”

I nod my head thinking about this. Would it be the most stupid thing I’ve ever done? Or should I try? I’ve been in relationships before, but none, absolutely none, has made me feel the slightest bit of attraction that he pulls from me. Perhaps I should run with it, see where this desire comes from? Though I won’t make it easy for him. He won’t get me to bend over when he says so, or when he pleases.

“Come home with me?” he asks, standing and offering me his hand. I don’t say anything, I just stare at his outstretched hand, the hand that I want covering my body.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I say, defiance in my voice.

“If you say so.” He smirks again. Fuck him, and all his hotness.

He gets his way that night, and I stay at his house for two days. Doing nothing but lying in bed with him, watching movies, sleeping, but mostly fucking. He’s going to break me, fuck me, and then toss me out like trash when he’s done. And I can’t seem to say no to him. No matter how strong I am. I’m fucked.

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.

~Francois de La Rochefoucauld~

I wanted her, I knew this. She’s the one rule that I’ve broken, and I did it for her. She hasn’t left my house for over a month, since that day in the bar. I told her to quit her job during an orgasm and she did, then I told her to move in with me when my mouth was between her legs and she did. I wonder what else I could get her to do for me? It's sort of become fun, a game if you will, to see what this beautiful woman would do for me. She was resilient at first, but she gave in quickly. I knew she would. It’s the way things work. I’ve had women at my beck and call all my life, but I don’t push them as far as I’ve pushed Bexley. She’s different, I like the way she looks at me, the way she sees me. Like I’m the air that she breathes.

“Out,” I say just as she steps in. I know it’s her by her quiet footsteps and the perfume that wafts through the air after her. I’m in the middle of a big deal. She cannot disturb me, I’ve told her this.

“I’m making a roast, when will you be done?” she asks standing at the door. I look up at her and she smiles.

“I don’t want a roast, I want turkey, and I will be done when I’m done. Now leave,” I say and turn back to my computer. See, what did I tell you, I like to push her. She’s spent all day in the kitchen. I could hear her banging pans and swearing. So I test her just a little bit further to see if she’ll do what I say. When I emerge a few hours later, there’s turkey on the table. I look up to her smiling face and go straight to bed. I hear her smash a plate in the sink. She’s pissed at me, but she’ll never tell me, only taking it out on inanimate objects. She comes in not long after. I’m scrolling through more emails on my phone. She strips naked and lays next to me, her hand touches my bare chest. I remove it and place my phone down and go to sleep.

I know what I’m doing to her is wrong, but I like it. It’s like my own guilty pleasure that only she can please. I will break her down.

The days pass by fast, and I’m hardly home. When I do arrive home, I fuck her into submission, and she does whatever I please. I’m a bit surprised that she’s letting me do this because I assumed she had more of a backbone. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this won’t last long after all.

She comes out dressed in a skirt and a very short shirt, one that sits just under her breast. Her cleavage is on display, and I instantly want to fuck them and come over her. She passes my office door like she does daily. This time I have a client, and he notices her and I can tell he likes what he sees. Dunker is a scary man, a dangerous man, to some. To me, he knows where he stands.

“She yours?” he asks as Bexley stops at the door to say something to Cora. She doesn’t like her, I can tell.

“You could say that,” I say eyeing her; her skirt situated on her tiny hips. Her ass is luscious and gives volume to her skirt. When she turns, so Dunker can view her full on he wolf whistles and brings her attention to us. She blushes when she sees me, and smiles softly before walking to the door. She stops and smiles at Dunker though it’s reserved.

“You going out?” I ask, fully aware Dunk is eye fucking her, storing her in his memory bank.

“Yes,” she says and plays with the bag she’s holding.

“I need you in my room in five minutes, Bexley.” She knows my voice when it’s rough, I want her. She leaves without an argument, and I know she’ll be there waiting for me, doing as she’s told.

“Fuck, where do I find me one of them,” he says pointing to where Bexley was standing.

“Time for you to leave,” I say and stand. He follows, smirks and winks as he departs, knowing full well what I’m going to do to her, that I’m going to fuck her.

When I enter the bedroom she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands still twitching inside her bag. Her eyes look up at me and I’m mesmerized by her beauty, the same way I was the night I first saw her. She is truly beautiful, probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Remove the top,” I tell her unbuttoning my pants and letting them drop to the floor. She hesitates for a second, unsure if she should test me. Eventually, she listens, though, and her top comes off easy with the zipper at the front.

“I want to fuck your tits,” I say palming my cock, stroking it. “Are you wet, Bexley?” I ask standing in front of her now. She looks up and nods, and she bites her lip. Wanting what I can give her, fucking her until she sees stars.

“Lean back on your hands, push your chest up.” She does and I bring both her tits together and lean down sucking on each nipple, paying close attention to each one. I grab the lube from the table next to the bed and lather myself up, then her tits. She shivers from the coldness when I apply it to her chest. I place my cock in the middle, squeezing her tits to suffocate around my cock. She leans forward and licks the top of my cock and I fuck harder, she repeats this a few times until I’m coming all over her, her skirt now ruined, with my evidence all over it.