“It’s too dangerous, Dee. What if you lose control? When an individual is swept away by passion, they often lose common sense, the ability to make good decisions…” His voice trails off.
“I’m not gonna stop midfuck and strangle him with my libido,” I say dryly, chucking my apple core in the direction of the trash and groaning when it misses.
“When are you planning on being intimate? And will it be during the day or at night? Have you thought these details through?” His voice has increased in agitation, and I would bet a million dollars he is standing right now, pacing behind his desk, his face twisted in frustration.
I roll my eyes, standing and walking over to the apple, picking it up and throwing it away. “Killing doesn’t seem to be on my mind when we are… please don’t say ‘intimate.’ It makes you sound ancient. And you’re… what—under fifty, right?” It is a weak attempt at sleuthing. I know so little about this man, other than that he has a smooth voice that could make a killing in phone sex, should he ever be so inclined. I’ve considered siccing Mike on him, but that seems invasive, like something that shouldn’t be done to a friend. Plus, the fantasies of Derek make it all the more fun. Chances are he’s George Costanza with a mullet, and there’s no way I can fantasize to that image. Better that I envision him leaning back in his chair, a Josh Duhamel type, with glasses, his suit unbuttoned, twirling a pen lazily as he reaches down and adjusts his hardening cock.
“How long have you been considering this?”
I pretend that there’s a bit of a hitch to his tone, a thickening that indicates arousal. “A while.” Definitely under fifty. “And please, just call it what it is. No more ‘intimate’ terminology.”
“Which is?”
Okay, I’m not crazy. There is definitely a bit of a sexual drawl in that question. I grin, letting my voice drop and my tone change. “Fucking, Derek. Crazy, screammynamelouder fucking.”
Silence. Maybe I took that answer a little too far.
“Time’s up, Deanna,” he says shortly, and I glance at the wall clock, silently arguing with him that we have eight minutes left. “Your medication will not affect, or be affected by, birth control. Please note that I strongly suggest you refrain from any sexual activity as it could trigger an episode. Especially at night.”
A click, absolute and decisive, sounds through the cell phone’s receiver, and he is gone. I look to the other side of my apartment, to my bed of sex, cameras, toys, and lingerie spread all over its surface. Refrain from any sexual activity? Bitch, please.
CHAPTER 32
HackOffMyBigCock: u there?
JessReilly19: yep
HackOffMyBigCock: you flagged a client about a month ago. A freebird71.
JessReilly19: Go on
HackOffMyBigCock: his name is Marcus Renza. He was just released from jail.
JessReilly19: Awesome. For what?
HackOffMyBigCock: rape and aggravated battery
JessReilly19: Swell. Thanks for the speedy warning.
HackOffMyBigCock: you flagged 32 people last month. my caseload got backed up. Plus I’m assuming, from your smartass tone, that you are still alive.
JessReilly19: For now.
HackOffMyBigCock: want me to block him from your sites and social networks?
JessReilly19: No. he’s a potential whale. I’ll tread lightly. If he misbehaves, I’ll let you know to cut him off.
HackOffMyBigCock: I could do more.
JessReilly19: Stop stretching your morals on my dime. I can take care of myself.
HackOffMyBigCock: never doubted that babe.
JessReilly19: Thanks for the heads up
HackOffMyBigCock: anytime. The rest of the list was clean.
JessReilly19: Got to run. Horny men waiting.
HackOffMyBigCock: bye sexy
CHAPTER 33
VILLAINS COME IN all shapes and forms. I’m sure no one would have suspected my mother, her gingerbread apron tied perfectly over pressed pants and paired with a spotless smile. Or me, the barely-looks-eighteen beauty in a pink cami and white panties, kneeling on my bed and smiling into my webcam.
I know better. Regardless of the exterior smile, regardless of how sweet, or handsome, or friendly someone may look, I should never trust them. I should never let them get close enough to hurt me. Even Jeremy. In some ways, especially Jeremy.
I’ve been turning it over ever since my conversation with Derek. Debated the point of undertaking an unwinnable journey. My side of our relationship has become, in these deliberations, a struggle to keep him emotionally at bay. I have physically let him in, let him run those strong fingers over every inch of my body, my skin thirsty for the touch, my mouth eager for the contact. But I won’t let him touch my heart. It isn’t fair to let him love me, not when he doesn’t really know what it is he is loving. He doesn’t know what he holds in his hand, who he kisses over takeout. He thinks he knows, he thinks he is aware of my dark desires to hurt and thinks that that makes him educated, protected. But when he doesn’t know what I’ve done with that need, what lives I have taken… can his love be true without that information?