lips throbbed, still sore from that kiss. All right, the sex wasn’t bad either.
Chapter Eleven
Eric
I didn’t give her any sort of choice. She had to come home with me or she could kiss her money goodbye. I knew how much she needed it. I told myself I was being a dick for holding it over her head, but she had made a deal. I wanted to get my money’s worth.
The next time she made a deal like ours, she would get a contract. The way I saw it, I was teaching her a lesson. She should have been grateful to me for it—at least she’d get paid in the end.
It didn’t take long for me to wish I had done things differently. Instead of bringing her with me, I should have given her the money and sent her home. It was different having her home with me. In a lot of ways.
I was always the guy who slept with a lot of women and kicked them out the next day. They were good for getting my dick wet. I didn’t talk to them, except when we were flirting. I didn’t hang out with them. And I didn’t want the same woman twice. When I got finished with one, I was bored with her right away. It was like once I came, I woke up and wondered why I thought she was so hot in the first place. Then she was about as appetizing as yesterday’s leftovers.
Michelle wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like that around her. And it scared the shit out of me.
Whenever I saw her, I wanted to touch her. She could be doing something simple like washing dishes or pouring a glass of water, and I would want to reach for her. I would want to feel her next to me, smell her perfume and the shampoo she used in her hair. I didn’t need to hold her or cuddle with her or even fuck her. I just wanted to touch her and know she was there, and move along. As simple as that. It was fucking torture keeping my hands off her.
It wasn’t just that. She made me look at my life in a different way, which I hated. I always liked my life—especially when I was out of prison and living like a free person. I liked my house the way it was, or I didn’t care about it, at least. I liked waking up late and partying and going to bed in the middle of the night. I liked living while the rest of the world was asleep.
I didn’t need company either. My club was company enough. I went home to sleep and sometimes eat. That was it. I was with them the rest of the time. Honestly, a quiet house was a godsend after a loud party.
After Michelle, I didn’t like being alone all of a sudden. The house felt better when she was in it.
It looked better, too. I told her a hundred times not to bother cleaning up, and she shot me a dirty look every time. “You might be able to hold me hostage, but you’re not going to make me live in a sty,” she said. I never felt bad about being a slob before, but she had me feeling like a kid getting yelled at by his mom. I wished I would have cleaned the place up a little bit before I brought her home, but then I didn’t know I’d end up buying a girl at the auction. If I wasn’t a slob, though, it would have mattered. She made me look at the way I lived, and I wasn’t comfortable with it.
I had to take her for a few things at the store when she looked under the kitchen sink and saw I didn’t have cleaning stuff. “Seriously? You don’t even own Windex?” she asked. “No wonder the windows are filthy.”
The craziest part was I didn’t fight with her, even though any other woman would have gotten my temper and an invitation to suck my cock. I didn’t wanna go down that road. Why didn’t I own cleaning products? Because I was in prison for years and just got back. I was too busy partying and cramming in all the fun I missed when I was gone to worry about keeping the place clean.
I couldn’t stop being a smart-ass, though. “Isn’t that what women are for?”
She shot me the dirtiest look I ever saw, which was saying a lot. “Obviously, no decent woman would bother
Chapter Eleven
Eric
I didn’t give her any sort of choice. She had to come home with me or she could kiss her money goodbye. I knew how much she needed it. I told myself I was being a dick for holding it over her head, but she had made a deal. I wanted to get my money’s worth.
The next time she made a deal like ours, she would get a contract. The way I saw it, I was teaching her a lesson. She should have been grateful to me for it—at least she’d get paid in the end.
It didn’t take long for me to wish I had done things differently. Instead of bringing her with me, I should have given her the money and sent her home. It was different having her home with me. In a lot of ways.
I was always the guy who slept with a lot of women and kicked them out the next day. They were good for getting my dick wet. I didn’t talk to them, except when we were flirting. I didn’t hang out with them. And I didn’t want the same woman twice. When I got finished with one, I was bored with her right away. It was like once I came, I woke up and wondered why I thought she was so hot in the first place. Then she was about as appetizing as yesterday’s leftovers.
Michelle wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like that around her. And it scared the shit out of me.
Whenever I saw her, I wanted to touch her. She could be doing something simple like washing dishes or pouring a glass of water, and I would want to reach for her. I would want to feel her next to me, smell her perfume and the shampoo she used in her hair. I didn’t need to hold her or cuddle with her or even fuck her. I just wanted to touch her and know she was there, and move along. As simple as that. It was fucking torture keeping my hands off her.
It wasn’t just that. She made me look at my life in a different way, which I hated. I always liked my life—especially when I was out of prison and living like a free person. I liked my house the way it was, or I didn’t care about it, at least. I liked waking up late and partying and going to bed in the middle of the night. I liked living while the rest of the world was asleep.
I didn’t need company either. My club was company enough. I went home to sleep and sometimes eat. That was it. I was with them the rest of the time. Honestly, a quiet house was a godsend after a loud party.
After Michelle, I didn’t like being alone all of a sudden. The house felt better when she was in it.
It looked better, too. I told her a hundred times not to bother cleaning up, and she shot me a dirty look every time. “You might be able to hold me hostage, but you’re not going to make me live in a sty,” she said. I never felt bad about being a slob before, but she had me feeling like a kid getting yelled at by his mom. I wished I would have cleaned the place up a little bit before I brought her home, but then I didn’t know I’d end up buying a girl at the auction. If I wasn’t a slob, though, it would have mattered. She made me look at the way I lived, and I wasn’t comfortable with it.
I had to take her for a few things at the store when she looked under the kitchen sink and saw I didn’t have cleaning stuff. “Seriously? You don’t even own Windex?” she asked. “No wonder the windows are filthy.”
The craziest part was I didn’t fight with her, even though any other woman would have gotten my temper and an invitation to suck my cock. I didn’t wanna go down that road. Why didn’t I own cleaning products? Because I was in prison for years and just got back. I was too busy partying and cramming in all the fun I missed when I was gone to worry about keeping the place clean.
I couldn’t stop being a smart-ass, though. “Isn’t that what women are for?”
She shot me the dirtiest look I ever saw, which was saying a lot. “Obviously, no decent woman would bother
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