by Tiana Laveen
“Oh, baby, no… That was just me passing out the syllabus. You see, good sex only requires a couple of bodies. Great sex requires the mind. You have no idea what I am capable of showing you. That was nothing. School is very much still in session.”
“Nix,” she huffed, “Thank you for calling. I have to go now.”
“Wait. One more thing, baby. Tell me something.” He scratched the side of his nose and glared at his reflection in his mirror. “What do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want?”
“You said I’m not what you want, but you never said what you do want.” He cocked his head to the side, listening closely. Waiting.
After a few seconds of silence, she answered.
“Something you can’t give me. And before you say it, I don’t have to know you personally to know that you just don’t have it in you. Now, you have a nice day, Nix. I wish you well in life, and in your future… adventures.”
The call went dead. He stared at his cellphone and burst out laughing.
Oh, baby… you’ve really fucked up now. This woman is fuckin’ incredible! The audacity to hang up on me! Disbelief set in and he put the phone down, his mind racing, plotting, gunned up for a new mission.
Yasmine Prince, you did exactly the thing you should NEVER do to a guy like me.
Make me want you.
She thinks she’s just looking for a knight in shining armor.
Bullshit.
She’s looking for the sword.
You want ‘The Rose’ or Raze? Makes me no fuckin’ difference. They’re one and the same and you’re getting both. I was made for this shit. At the end of the day, I’m the Satyr, baby, and you’re about to get the horns…
CHAPTER FOUR
No Bed of Roses
It was unusually chilly that day, but the sweet scent of white roses in the office more than made up for it. She’d walked in that morning and bam! – the beautiful bouquet of floral fuckers was waiting for her in a large crystal vase, stopping her in her tracks. Impressive, just like him. Encroaching on her space, screaming at her with their magnificence. As she nudged the door closed behind her with a bump of her hip, they demanded to be seen.
Five minutes later, she sat at her desk still looking at them. Speechless. They matched her white pantsuit, which also had purple trim along the blazer collar and hem. The sight of them filled her with both appreciation and disdain. Well, at least she wanted to feel annoyed. Offended. But… Who wouldn’t want flowers from a successful, attractive attorney who could fuck his ass off?
Me, apparently.
Her heart and thoughts raced about like drug addicts on a high. The card attached simply said, ‘Let me put you in my cage.’
…Son of a bitch.
To the untrained eye, one may not have noticed his little jeweled joke he added to the bouquet. Most would have missed it, but she sure didn’t. The tiny pair of silver handcuffs, small enough to fit a Barbie Doll’s wrists dangling from the white silk ribbon. Her heart beat a mile a minute at the thought of the words on the card. She tossed it aside, face down. That won’t get rid of the words. They are there forever. Her body prickled with sweat, a peppering of fear seasoned her thoughts, and excitement consumed her. She could almost smell the man, feeling as if she’d just seen him. His intoxicating cologne, natural scent and sweat all mingled together created a mind-altering concoction. The memory resurfaced, overwhelming. He was so virile, so demeaning, so crazy and stunning… His words still haunted her…
He told me as he gently choked me that night, while riding me hard from the back, ‘Your terror tastes beautiful…’
His sweat was all over me, baptizing me in all that he was and hoped to be and I picked up my scent in traces along the hardness of his jaw, the length of his collar bones, his lips and Adam’s apple… I can’t get over his smell… I missed it, craved it. I keep coming back to that because it hooked me. Damn. He smelled so good, like fresh spring rain and new leather, amber mist and loathsome lust… What cologne was he wearing? I’m usually good at figuring out that sort of thing… Whatever it was, the slimy snake has great taste in fragrances. Expensive. Worth every penny. He takes good care of himself but without going overboard, I bet. It’s a turn off for a man to spend hours grooming. I loved his hair, too. It was dark, soft, and had an attractive, becoming cut. His hair felt like ebony feathers dragging across my skin as he kissed up and down my body. He kissed me like I meant something to him… Like I was worthy to be praised.
He told me I was beautiful after he bit my ass then fucked me hard in it… and I believed him. A beautiful liar he is… leaving a trail of pain. Making me crave more.
His hands were kind of rough, yet that turned me on, too. What’s a lawyer doing with calloused hands? I didn’t want to ask because the more I knew about him, the more I’d want to know, and curiosity always kills the cat. Endless cycle of inquisitiveness.
Fascinating, though. His body… fucking amazing… Solid, hard muscles…Long limbs, toned… A legend in the art of seduction. Damn, he can kiss. His lips! Plush yet firm. But the star of the show? That motherfucker’s dick! Good God!
She flopped back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the ceiling.
I remember it so well, every single detail. It was so damn long and wide as hell, a little darker than the rest of his body with thick veins running up the length. His cock was truly striking. The damn thing was magnificent. I mean, it really, truly was. Can a dick be beautiful? His was. I throbbed for days after he was finished with me, and that gave me some sort of sick, twisted comfort. I can’t even explain it. I have told none of my friends about this and don’t plan to; they wouldn’t understand. No one I know would, but they’ve noticed I was acting different for a week or two after my rendezvous with Raze. He fucked me clear out of my mind. Best of all, his sword isn’t just big. That motherfucker knows how to use that shit. Every breathtaking inch.
I thought about that asshole’s mouth and dick, his hands and body for the longest after we’d parted ways. It was like a sickness! He’d left me high, and when I came off that high, I crashed hard. My pussy was sore from stroking it all damn day in his memory… I wanted more of him. I hated him for that. He was to blame. How could someone who treated me so coldly make me crave him like that? I’ve had a few good relationships, but I’ve had my share of bad relationships, too. When they were bad, I left. Sometimes when they were good I left, too. I had my reasons. With him, I didn’t even consider it.
Maybe because I knew he was trying to teach me something important. There was something about him that was different from the moment I saw him. He is in a class of his own. I didn’t feel like I needed to call for help when we were engaged in the roughest sex I’ve ever had. There was beauty and desire in the pain. I felt safer than I had in a long ass time… How is that possible? He is the type of guy who makes you feel like he’ll take care of everything, and you need not worry.
She reached for the flowers and stroked one of the petals, then smiled.
I almost called him on so many occasions, but I fought the urge. I fought hard. I want real love now, not secret encounters with men that offer nothing more than sexual escapades and erotic rendezvous. I’m ready to try dating again; though my last few dates and relationships haven’t been the best, I’m not giving up on finding Mr. Right. Regardless, I have no regrets. Raze served his purpose, or so I thought. Now he’s back. He called me… and the things he said proved he is not done with me. I thought it was over.
…But I was wrong.
What were the odds that he’d call days after she’d discarded his business card? It was almost as if he knew the trouble she was having, the way she’d struggled to get to that final 12th step away from him. Raze Anonymous. She’d never admit how many times she’d considered reaching into the trash bin in her bedroom and fishing out that business card, trying to piece it back together like a jigsaw puzzle.
He’s found me. Worst of all, I’m not so sure I’m one h
undred percent upset that he did. She reached for her necklace and rolled the dainty gold chain between her fingers. As she fell into a soft, carefree daydream, she practically jumped out of her skin when her work cell phone rang. She quickly grabbed her bottle of apple juice, took a swig to relieve her dry mouth, then answered.
“Hello, this is Yasmine Prince.”
“Look out your window.” Shivers crept up her spine when his deep, borderline evil voice reverberated on the other end. Phone in hand, she slowly got up from her chair and went to peer outside. Her office was on the fifth floor, looking onto the street. Pursed lips, temperature soaring, she finally spotted him in the sea of parked cars and traffic. There he was, standing off to right of the building, leaning against an amazing car she’d never seen the likes of. “Come to lunch with me. We need to talk. It’s important.”
She pressed her hand against the glass and watched him. He wore a dark business suit and sunglasses. He was too far for her to see the fine details, but close enough to cause panic. He appeared to be looking right at her. Through her.
“The call. The flowers. Now this.” She sighed. “Why are you doing this to me? Why after all of this time do you have this burning desire to start bothering me, Nixon? Don’t you have like, what? Five hundred other women you’ve messed around with that you can harass?” She threw up her hand.
“Grab your shit and let’s go. Chop, chop.”
“No.”
“No isn’t an option until you’ve heard me out. If after our lunch meeting you’re still not interested, then shit, I’ll take that as my cue to bow out gracefully. No sweat. I’ll walk away and never look back at your ass again.”
“I see you aren’t too proud to beg,” she quipped.
“I don’t beg. I make simple requests. Sometimes two, if I feel so inclined. You’re lucky. I’m inclined. Enough of the small talk. You’ve got ten minutes to get down here.” He gruffly disconnected the call and slid his phone in his pocket, then got into his car, cool as he pleased. Idiot. She stood there, her feet cemented to the floor. A weight settled on her shoulders. It seemed the world was going in fast motion all around her, like a spinning top.
You slimy, sneaky fucker. If I try to tell someone what’s going on, I’ll have to explain who he is. He knows that. He is low key blackmailing my ass. She hissed, turned away and made her way towards her desk. She snatched up her desk phone.
“Bela, hey… I am leaving for an early lunch. Please let Mike and Janet know, just in case. I will be back in time for my 1:00 p.m. appointment.”
“Okay, Ms. Prince. Have a good lunch. I will see you later.”
“Thank you.” She hung up the phone.
Grabbing her purse, she headed to the elevator and pushed the ‘L’ for lobby. When she got to the first floor, she traveled to the ladies’ restroom. She stared at herself in the mirror above the sparkling white sinks, trying to remember who she even was…
What am I doing?! He’s treating me as if he is a puppeteer and I am on Sesame Street. A little part of me wants to see him, God knows why. Yes, I do. I’m just as sick as he is! Now you know you shouldn’t meet him! He’s a control freak, getting some revolting thrill out of doing this to me. She barked at herself, switching from first to second person in her mind like someone with a personality disorder. You are giving him access to you. On the other hand, maybe if we have this face-to-face, he will then leave me alone. Stick to the agreement. He said he would but honestly, I don’t know what to believe. Although I believe I’m a good judge of character. Regardless, you, Yasmine Prince, are not going to be toyed with. No matter what he says, this is it for you. Let’s just get it over with.
She retrieved her mauve lipstick from her purse and reapplied it, then tossed it back, her temper flaring. She ran her fingers through her loose curls, fluffing her tresses out, then tucked some strands behind her ear, exposing a small gold hoop earring.
After washing her hands and applying lotion, she left the building, her chin up, back straight, and her core heated with indignation. She walked to the sporty blue car, the passenger window slightly cracked and the sounds of ‘Juice’ by Iyla pouring out.
The robust aroma of cherry-laced cigar smolder greeted her as his driver’s side car door slowly opened. A thick cloud of white smoke wafted out as if he were Satan himself, on a vacation from Hell making his grand appearance. Nixon emerged like a vampire once the sun set, tugged at the hem of his black business coat, and stepped to her, his oversized ego dripping in abundance. He glided past her as if she were not standing there at all, invisible. In fact, his opaque azure eyes did not land on her ever. With the coolness of an ice cube, he opened the passenger’s side door, cigar in hand. Then, a nauseating, twisted smirk creased his fucking face that she dreamed of smacking off.
That’s the same mouth that ate my pussy like it was the cure to cancer…
“Get in.”
She gritted her teeth, ignoring how soppy her panties felt when she saw the vampiric bastard emerge from his fancy coffin on wheels and got a whiff of his scent. She pressed her shoulder into his chest, an act of aggression that didn’t appear to faze him. This car must’ve cost a fortune. Inside the car, she crossed her legs then jumped when he got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Nixon leaned back on the black leather seat. He looked good enough to eat in his fancy suit. He turned the steering wheel, slowly pulling away from the curb in one smooth maneuver.
“Just so you know, Nixon, you are not running anything in regard to me and this situation. I’m here of my own accord. I’m not helpless. I’m in control and you don’t have the upper hand. I need to make that perfectly clear. Just know that. I am doing this so it can finally be over, once and for all. After today, don’t send me any more flowers. In fact, don’t contact me at all.” She crossed her arms over her purse, looking straight out the windshield. Out the corner of her eye she caught him nod. Weird. She expected more from him. A protest, an obscene jab, terse words. But she received nothing bar the drifting scent of smoke and complacency. He turned up the volume when Kaiit came on the airwaves with ‘Miss Shiney’.
He likes this newish neo-soul sound, I see… I love this song. I hate him for that. We like the same type of music. Fucker.
“Let me make something else perfectly clear. Don’t call me the names you called me that night, Nixon,” she began again, not satisfied with his lack of acknowledgement.
“Classic. You’re trying to start an argument in hopes that I will get pissed off and wash my hands of you before we even get started. Speaking of washing hands, did you wash yours? Peppermint?” Shivers went down her spine at his words. “Relax. Not spying on you. I can smell the damn soap. I have a good sense of smell. Anyway, startin’ an argument this way is silly, don’t you think, baby? It’s unoriginal and unimaginative. I expected better from you. You’re such an accomplished lawyer. Seems you would’ve come up with something better than that.” He shrugged. “It’s all right though. You’re still entertaining.” After a pause, he said, “Back to the bullshit, though. What did I call you that has you so in your feelings?”
He never looked directly at her. It disturbed her… yet this attitude, the way he spoke, fit him so well.
“A bitch.”
“Doesn’t matter what the fuck I call you. It matters what you answer to.”
“I’ll call you that, then. See how you like it.”
“I’m nobody’s fuckin’ bitch.”
“Oh? You sound insulted. How does it feel?” She smiled, enjoying his slightly raised voice.
“What you’re called in the middle of being fucked versus what you are called in day-to-day interactions is like comparing apples and oranges.”
“Fine. You’re a banana. And a bitch.”
He turned suddenly in her direction and leaned close.
“Ahhh!” She jumped back, causing him to burst out laughing.
“Calm down. This banana is just gonna slide on over here for a sec. Banana, huh? Freudian s
lip. If you want to suck it, and we both know you do, I can pull over right now. Give you a nice banana cream pie right down your fucking throat.”
Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment she was sure he was going to try and hurt her, do some bodily harm, perhaps slap her silly. Instead, he slid his arm past her, opened up his glove compartment, and pulled out a tissue from a packet. He used it to dab at his forehead, then cast it aside.
“It’s unusually hot today. Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“You’re lying. I heard your stomach growl. You don’t have to pretend with me. I know who you are. On the inside.”
“You don’t know shit about me and I plan to keep it that way.”
“You don’t know shit about you, Yasmine. That’s why I am the only one who can make you cum.” He pointed at himself, but his eyes remained on the road. “You have no clue as to what’s going on with you, deep within.”
“Shut up! Not everything is about sex.”
“Who said I was talking about sex right now?”
She drew quiet for a spell, hating him more as each second passed. She was out of character, nasty and mean, trying to protect herself from the situation she found herself in. It felt wrong, forbidden, and definitely not how she intended to spend her day. In her mind, he was supposed to be yelling and screaming, dropping her back off at the office. Sick of her by now. She huffed, exhaled loudly, clearly displeased and wishing for him to know it.
