must be getting tired of your sex slave if you’re up at 2 A.M. writing instead of gettin’ down!) but if it’s anything like the last one, you should be signing a book contract by the end of the week.
Unable to stop himself, Jake searched through Kit’s Sent folder and pulled up twenty editions of “Stripping It Down.” With every word he read, the gnawing sickness grew until his whole body throbbed with hurt and rage as he realized what Kit really thought of him, of their relationship.
While he’d been falling in love, she’d thought of him as a sex toy and used him as fodder to entertain her readers. While he’d been entertaining visions of their future together, she’d been glorying in leading him around by his dick, waiting for the moment she could let him down hard as payback for the way he’d treated her twelve years ago.
He didn’t bother reading the column she’d written at two o’clock this morning. He already knew what it said. No doubt she’d ridiculed his love, laughed at how thoroughly she’d duped him, and figuratively rubbed her hands as she anticipated how, very soon, she would grind his heart into a fine powder.
No wonder she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him.
Hot, humiliated tears burned his eyes, and he thought for a second he might barf all over her keyboard.
He had to get out of her apartment.
Grabbing his pants from where he’d dropped them last night on the living room rug, he hopped his way into them and slammed open the bedroom door. He saw her jolt awake in the corner of his eye but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. If he did, he was afraid he’d strangle her, or worse, start crying like a chick and beg her to tell him none of it was true.
Tugging his suitcase out of the closet, he started throwing his clothes inside, yanking open the dresser drawer he’d claimed and shoving in shirts, underwear, and socks. Suits, pants, dress shirts were pulled from hangers and piled on top.
“Jake, what are you doing?” Kit asked. The mere sound of her low, sleep-husky voice nearly brought him to his knees.
How could he have been so wrong? How could he not have seen her for the cold-hearted bitch she really was?
He looked at her, reclining in the bed, un-self-conscious as the sheet slipped down to reveal gorgeous breasts he’d spent a good part of last night worshipping with his lips and tongue. Despite the stabbing pain in his heart, his cock sprang to eager attention. He had his answer.
“I’m leaving,” he said, stuffing his running shoes into the corner of the suitcase. “Isn’t that what you wanted, Kit?” He paused, staring at her hard. “Or do you prefer to go by C. Teaser, since that seems to be what you truly are?”
She swallowed audibly as all the color drained from her face. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
At least she had the grace to look ashamed even if she didn’t bother to defend herself.
She clutched the sheet to her chest, looking so vulnerable that for a moment he was ready to forget everything and believe it had all been a big, harmless joke.
But phrases he’d read drifted through his mind, cutting words that had the unmistakable ring of Kit’s ruthless sense of humor. Lately he’s been hanging on my bra straps…Some might say I’m taking advantage, but why should I turn down the chance for a little pleasure along with a side of revenge?
He shook his head, filled with disgust for both of them. “You got me, Kit, you got me real good. You wanted revenge, you have it. Congratulations. If I hurt you even half this much the first time we slept together, I’m surprised you lived through it.”
“No, Jake, you don’t understand—” She babbled something about the column, a book deal, being pressured into writing more about him even though she didn’t mean it.
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I thought we were past what happened, Kit, but apparently you’re still the same hurt little girl who wants to
Unable to stop himself, Jake searched through Kit’s Sent folder and pulled up twenty editions of “Stripping It Down.” With every word he read, the gnawing sickness grew until his whole body throbbed with hurt and rage as he realized what Kit really thought of him, of their relationship.
While he’d been falling in love, she’d thought of him as a sex toy and used him as fodder to entertain her readers. While he’d been entertaining visions of their future together, she’d been glorying in leading him around by his dick, waiting for the moment she could let him down hard as payback for the way he’d treated her twelve years ago.
He didn’t bother reading the column she’d written at two o’clock this morning. He already knew what it said. No doubt she’d ridiculed his love, laughed at how thoroughly she’d duped him, and figuratively rubbed her hands as she anticipated how, very soon, she would grind his heart into a fine powder.
No wonder she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him.
Hot, humiliated tears burned his eyes, and he thought for a second he might barf all over her keyboard.
He had to get out of her apartment.
Grabbing his pants from where he’d dropped them last night on the living room rug, he hopped his way into them and slammed open the bedroom door. He saw her jolt awake in the corner of his eye but couldn’t bring himself to look at her. If he did, he was afraid he’d strangle her, or worse, start crying like a chick and beg her to tell him none of it was true.
Tugging his suitcase out of the closet, he started throwing his clothes inside, yanking open the dresser drawer he’d claimed and shoving in shirts, underwear, and socks. Suits, pants, dress shirts were pulled from hangers and piled on top.
“Jake, what are you doing?” Kit asked. The mere sound of her low, sleep-husky voice nearly brought him to his knees.
How could he have been so wrong? How could he not have seen her for the cold-hearted bitch she really was?
He looked at her, reclining in the bed, un-self-conscious as the sheet slipped down to reveal gorgeous breasts he’d spent a good part of last night worshipping with his lips and tongue. Despite the stabbing pain in his heart, his cock sprang to eager attention. He had his answer.
“I’m leaving,” he said, stuffing his running shoes into the corner of the suitcase. “Isn’t that what you wanted, Kit?” He paused, staring at her hard. “Or do you prefer to go by C. Teaser, since that seems to be what you truly are?”
She swallowed audibly as all the color drained from her face. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
At least she had the grace to look ashamed even if she didn’t bother to defend herself.
She clutched the sheet to her chest, looking so vulnerable that for a moment he was ready to forget everything and believe it had all been a big, harmless joke.
But phrases he’d read drifted through his mind, cutting words that had the unmistakable ring of Kit’s ruthless sense of humor. Lately he’s been hanging on my bra straps…Some might say I’m taking advantage, but why should I turn down the chance for a little pleasure along with a side of revenge?
He shook his head, filled with disgust for both of them. “You got me, Kit, you got me real good. You wanted revenge, you have it. Congratulations. If I hurt you even half this much the first time we slept together, I’m surprised you lived through it.”
“No, Jake, you don’t understand—” She babbled something about the column, a book deal, being pressured into writing more about him even though she didn’t mean it.
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “I thought we were past what happened, Kit, but apparently you’re still the same hurt little girl who wants to
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