Exposed by Georgia le Carre Page B

cannot let her have the upper hand.  This has to be all my way.  And there is no highway for this little bird.
    Shocked by the violence of my reaction, she retracts her hand.  I see the realization in her eyes.  Now she knows she has damaged me.  Her face crumples as if she gives a flying fuck.  What an actress.
    ‘ Please,’ she whispers.
    She put a lot emotion into that word and I am shocked at how much I want to believe that it is not an act.  My pathetic neediness annoys me.  I bend my head toward her face.  Her eyes are riveted on my lips.  What is she remembering?  The taste of me?
    ‘ Dishonest little Lana,’ I murmur, so close to her neck that if I put my tongue out I’d lick that tender skin.  I run my hand down the smoothness of her neck—skin like pure silk.  I let my fingers wrap around it—so slender, so breakable.  I hear her draw in a sharp breath.  Languidly I slip my hand into the collar of her cheap blouse.
    She begins to tremble.  I pay no attention.  Instead I watch my fingers slip a button out of its hole and then another.  I spread apart the joined material so that her throat, chest, and the lacy tops of her bra are exposed.  The desire to rip her clothes is so strong I have to physically fight it.  I frown.  Yes, she is very beautiful, but I have had other very beautiful women—why does this woman alone have such an effect on me?  Even knowing what I know about her doesn’t change a thing.  Not having total control over my own impulses makes me feel vulnerable and defenseless.  It is like falling backwards into nothing.  I hate the sensation.  I can never let her see my weakness.  I turn coldly furious.  The breaths that escape her lips are suddenly shallow and quick.  I smile possessively.  So nothing has changed on that front.
    ‘ You were, by far, more when you squeezed into that little orange dress and your fuck me shoes, and went looking for money,’ I taunt.  ‘Look at you now; you’re flapping around inside a man’s jacket.  Two hundred thousand and you don’t even buy yourself a nice suit.’
    I tut.  ‘And this…’  I raise my hand to her hair.  ‘This ugly bun.  What were you thinking of?’ I ask softly, as I pluck the pins out of her hair and drop them on the ground.  I return her hair to its silk curtain.  Beautiful.  I reach back, pull a tissue out of its box and start wiping away her lipstick, a horrid plum.  I am unhurried—let her stew from the outside in.
    I toss the stained tissue on the ground.  ‘That’s better.’
    She stares at me helplessly, and guess what?  It turns me on to have her at my mercy.
    ‘ Lick your lips,’ I order.
    ‘ What?’  She looks horrified by the cold command, and yet electrified by the sexual heat that my order obviously arouses. Like a beautifully tuned guitar, the tension in her body matches mine.  I feel the same desire rippling through her.
    We have played this game before.  We both know where it leads.
    My jaw hardens.  ‘You heard me.’
    The tip of her small, pink tongue protrudes and I eye its sweet journey avidly.  ‘That’s more like it.  That’s the mercenary bitch I know,’ I say, thrusting a rough hand into her hair.  It is exactly as I remember it.  Soft and silky.  A year of waiting.  Bitch!  I tug and pull her head back.  She gasps with shock, but her eyes are wide, unafraid, and innocent.  Fuck you, Lana.  You’re no innocent.  We had a deal and you cheated me.  And that fucking Dear John letter?  You didn’t even have the decency to wait until I got out of hospital.  I could have been dead for all she cared.  I expect better from a two bit whore.  But the thing that hurt the most: she didn’t care.
    Now I will have my revenge.  Another part of my brain is sneering—you’re fighting a losing battle here, dude.
    The thought powers me to kiss her.  This kiss means nothing to me.  It is only a way of gauging her reaction.  I will not allow