Sad to say, more than once I’d used the same technique to get rid of obsessed lovers. I couldn’t help it that I could tell exactly what they wanted, and that I felt compelled to give it to them so I could sip the flow of their contentment. Unfortunately, that drove men wild. If you gave them what they wanted, they got addicted.
And if you wanted to get rid of them, all you had to do was fluctuate between being crazy needy and a raging bitch. That made even the most determined men go away. I would rather have been adult about ending my relationships, but a few men had hovered around the bar too long, waiting and hoping for me to come back to them, unable to understand why I didn’t want to see them again when we were “perfect” together. That was disturbing. I couldn’t let anyone watch me too closely, or they would discover I was different.
But I could certainly show Dread a thing or two. The way he acted tomorrow morning should tell me if he was lying about the cameras. Then I could call Michael to find out why he hadn’t told me Vex owned my bar.
I sat down on the couch, leaning back against Theo’s thighs. One arm was flung over his head and the other trailed off the edge. The glow from the city lights edged his cheekbones and chin, casting a deep shadow across his face.
I touched his cheek with the backs of my fingers. He was looking pretty beat-up on my account. It hardened my resolve to send him away.
Theo shifted under my touch and slowly opened his eyes. He drew in his breath, seeing the slice of chest and belly my open robe exposed.
My fingers ran down his jaw to his mouth, shifting back and forth over his lips. His head tilted back, pulling away, as if it were too much.
I expected him to put his arm around me as he did before, drawing me in so tenderly. But he closed his eyes, as if willing himself not to reach out to me. He was holding himself back.
Bending over, I kissed him. His lips responded with such passion that it surprised me. He finally moved, clasping my arm, sending a surge of his desire through me in verdant plumes. My thighs shifted, squeezing together in anticipation.
His mouth was a delight; soft, tender kisses in spite of his rising heat, as if promising devotion with everyone. We kissed as if there were nothing else in the world.
Finally I pulled away. His fingers pressed my arm, but he didn’t try to draw me closer. We were both breathing faster, sitting next to each other.
I hesitated, drawing out the moment, expecting him to tip over the edge. When he made his move, I would shut him down and stalk off as if I were offended, then rinse and repeat. After a few hours of that, he’d be sick and tired of me.
But in fact, I kept dwelling on the idea of his pushing me down and taking me from the top this time. . . .
Biting my lip hard, I forced myself to remember why I was doing this. It wasn’t fair to him. I had to let him go.
Time to go for broke. My hand slid down his belly to brush against his jeans, tight over his straining cock. He tensed in response. I undid the buttons, freeing him. Stroking him, I rocked against his body, watching his face.
He bucked under my hand, so thick I almost couldn’t close my fist around him. He stretched and clenched at every stroke, every scrape of my fingernails, driving him higher, deeper. . . .
His hand tightened around my arm, as a deep growl rose inside him. Still he said nothing, did nothing. How could I tease a man who devoured every drop I gave him so gratefully and never asked for more?
“What do you want, Theo?”
Instantly he replied, “Whatever you want.”
My eyes opened wider. “Now there’s a blank check.”
“Not really—you’d never cash it.”
I hesitated, realizing it was true. I didn’t like taking anything from anyone. How could he understand me so well in only one day? I was supposed to be repelling him, not making him fall in love with me.
I stroked him firmer, feeling him so hard in my hand. He was raging with desire, pouring into me through my palm. A kaleidoscope of colors—passion, pain, frustration, joy, fear, and sorrow; how could one man feel so much? His emotions overwhelmed me, carrying me along in spite of myself.
The last sane voice in my head reminded me that if I wasn’t the most selfish bitch in the world, I would keep torturing him instead of pleasing him. I would drive him away.
I let go of him and rolled back to rub my moistened nub. My intake of breath, my shifting body lying on his, made him draw in his breath. His abandoned cock jerked between us as I slid my fingers back and forth across myself.
I tilted my head against the couch, letting the sensation fill me up. He was so warm and strong beneath me as he held me against himself.
My body pulsed, sending a white- hot light flooding through me. My quick climax caught me by surprise, but I went with it, anyway. I tensed against him, and he moaned along with me, though his sound was more of yearning than ecstasy.
When I finally relaxed against him, my hand brushed his cock. He wasn’t touching himself. Through the waves of desire radiating off him, I followed the purple path of pain to its source.
He thought he deserved to suffer. He thought he wasn’t good enough for me.
That broke through my haze of pleasure. Questions hovered on my lips. How could he possibly think that? But shared secrets would only deepen our intimacy. It would bind him to me. I had to lure him on, and then reject him.
Still breathless, I pushed myself farther down the couch. I leaned back, spreading my legs slightly. My fingers stroked the silky dark hair on my mound. “I’d like to cash my check now, please.”
The scent of my flesh drifted up, moist from my arousal. The frank lust in his eyes was almost too much for me. I reached out for his hand, pulling it to me. His fingers found my clit, rubbing lightly across it.
I arched my back, my eyes closed, as he slid off the couch and moved between my legs. He kissed the inside of my knee, his lips hot against my skin, and trailed his mouth inward. I spread my legs wider. His palm burned across my thigh, searing me with his feelings; he wanted to join with me, become one with me.
He buried his face in my mound, as his hand held my belly, the very core of me. His other hand slid under my buttocks, lifting my hips. I writhed beneath him, crying out until it was too much.
He eased off to let me breathe as he kissed up to my belly button, then back down, teasing me until his lips brushed across my nub again. He flicked his tongue across me, refusing to let me squirm away as my orgasm built.
My fingers buried in his thick hair, tightening and pulling as he strained against me. It felt so good, like nothing I’d ever had before. Then all thought left as I abandoned myself to the pleasure.
My aura seemed to explode like a splintered prism.
When I finally relaxed, he drew away slowly, carefully, until I loosened my fingers in his hair. I must have hurt him; I had been tugging so hard. His breath was fast on my thigh, and then his warmth was gone. I heard him fall back on the rug.
When I opened my eyes, he was watching me with that now-familiar pained expression. His cock was still firm, jutting from his opened jeans, and from his flushed and heavy breathing, he seemed ready to die if he didn’t climax.
But he wasn’t making a move. He was lying there instead of trying to take me. How could I reject him if he didn’t pursue me?
I wanted nothing more than to pull him on top of me so he could drive himself deep inside of me. I wanted to be filled by him, get fucked insensible. I wanted to cuddle against him for hours, letting him touch me everywhere, kiss me everywhere. . . .
This isn’t working out quite like I planned.
It took every ounce of will for me to push myself to my feet. I took a few unsteady steps away, trying to think of something, anything to say. At least Dread had seen a thing or two if he was watching.
“That will be all.” I wanted to smack myself, it sounded so stupid. But my brain seemed to have stopped working.
He groaned in response.
Tottering over to the steps up to the loft, I sneaked a look back. He was still lying on the rug, one arm flung over his eyes. He was exposed by his open fly, his jeans splayed back over his belly, but he didn’t cover himself. He was twisting slightly as he shuddered, so primed and ready to release that he couldn’t contain himself.
I hurried, hoping he would at least masturbate. He deserved some relief, but I couldn’t give it to him. I had to push him away so he would be safe.
10
I didn’t even pretend to sleep. I was hoping Theo would come up to the loft so I could reject him properly. I didn’t bother lowering my voice as I called Revel to find out how Shock was doing; she was improved, though she wasn’t up and moving around much yet. She had come within a hairbreadth of being consumed.
Then I paced around the loft and turned on the television, making plenty of noise, waiting for Theo to make some kind, any kind of advance toward me so I could be a bitch. But a peek into the living room below showed that he had crawled back onto the couch and though he rolled every now and then, indicating his sleep was interrupted, he never tried to come upstairs.
It was frustrating. I wondered if I was being played. I could sense his true nature and there was nothing meek about it—he was a driven, balls- to-the-wall kind of guy. Why was he being so accommodating, so selfless? We met only last night; he couldn’t be that infatuated with me already. Could he?
Every emotion I felt in him said he was falling in love with me.
Theo got up with the streaks of dawn lighting the sky, and quietly puttered around the kitchen. This time I stayed quiet, as if I were asleep. I heard him fix some eggs, which he ate standing up at the counter; then he carried his second cup of hot tea into the bathroom.
I heard him take a shower in the hydro-chamber, turning on the jets full blast. I wouldn’t mind trying that, but not with him in the bathroom. Since I had flubbed it so badly last night, I didn’t want to risk trying the old bait-and-switch again. The cold shoulder was my safest choice at this point.
I waited until ten o’clock to come down. He was watching the sky over the city, sitting there patiently. The bruise on his cheek had darkened, but the smudge under his eye wasn’t as bad today. He was wearing the olive drab T- shirt again. His hair had curled tightly as it dried.
I could barely meet his eyes, I felt so guilty about using him. I should have been used to it by now, justifying myself with the pleasure I was giving him in exchange. Some men paid a lot of money to be treated this badly. But he didn’t want that, so it sucked in every way possible.
I wrapped the robe more tightly around me as I knelt down and rifled through the shopping bags. There were shiny, high-heeled shoes with tiny straps, and filmy dresses, some with plunging necklines and tight waists and others more conservative. I tossed them aside, digging deeper.
Theo held up some sheer silk hose I had dropped onto the floor. “Are you sure you don’t want these?”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in nylons.”
“They’re stockings.”
“Whatever.”
I grabbed a few things that looked like they would do, and headed to the bathroom. Theo had fixed some hard-boiled eggs and bacon, the aroma of which was drifting from the warmer, and I quickly scooped some onto a plate along with a banana. I gave him a quick wave as I disappeared into the bathroom. Then I flushed the food down the toilet.
I had chosen clothes that clearly weren’t intended to make an impression. My black hip-hugging slacks flared at the bottom over patent-leather Mary Janes, and my dark purple T-shirt had a scoop neck and cap sleeves. With my face sans makeup, as usual, and my hair spiky from being wet down, I looked the same as I did any other day at the bar. All I needed was a black apron and I was set.
When I emerged, Theo smiled. “You ain’t nobody’s ‘Pretty Woman,’ are you?”
For the first time I met his eyes, grinning in return. It was hard to push away a guy who got me so well.
“We’re the same that way,” he said with satisfaction. “I can’t handle people who depend on others to take care of them—who let someone else make the decisions. You don’t let yourself get jerked around.”
“Is that why you’re being so accommodating? You seem like you’re really dominant, but you haven’t tried to impose yourself on me at all.”
“I believe in dominating myself and my own desires, not others.”
I shivered. How could I not like it that he gave me exactly what I wanted? I was used to doing that for other people, not getting it from someone else. I could sense his aggressiveness, his desire to fix everything, and that sense of constrained power was very sexy.
There was a polite knock on the door, and Theo went to answer it. It was Dread’s assistant, June, wearing traditional church-going garb, complete with heels, flowery dress, and gold cross with the distinctive flared arms of the Fellowship of Truth. Her long black hair was pinned back with crystal pavé dragonflies.
“Good morning—” June’s cheery greeting broke off when she saw the jumbled clothes and boxes on the floor. “Oh! I’ll call and have someone put these things away for you.”
“I’ll do it later,” I said.
June’s impossibly pert nose kept her from looking angry, but there was a line between her delicate brows. “No, really, I insist. The prophet would be upset if he knew I wasn’t taking care of you.” Unable to keep her eyes off the mess, June added, “The prophet is in the Evergreen Chapel. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you both there.”
I glanced at Theo. “I’m sorry, but Theo has to be going now.”