Degradation(14)

"So, you couldn't stop thinking about it, huh? Do you still think about it?" Jameson asked. Tate groaned.

"You are the most self-obsessed asshole I've ever met," she told him. He laughed.

"You may have done a one-eighty, but I'm still pretty much the same guy  –  just sharper claws," he warned her.

"No, I don't think about it," she answered his question. "I didn't even  recognize you at first, in that kitchen. Took a while for it to click."

"What about what happened in that conference room? Are you okay with  that?" he asked. She blinked in surprise. He shifted gears so fast,  completely dominated the conversation. If it could even be called that  –   she felt like she was being interrogated.

"Which part? You tricking me in to a job? Or feeling me up in front of a  bunch of suits?" she asked for clarification. He smiled.

"I already know you liked it when I touched you, so how about when you  took off your panties? I didn't make you do that  –  pretty bold move, I  didn't expect it," he said.

"Probably because you don't know me. Maybe that's an every day thing for me, not bold at all," she pointed out. Jameson laughed.

"I don't think so. I challenged you. You didn't like it. You stepped up to the plate. I admire that," he commented.

"Yeah, and I knocked it out of the park. Game over. I win. You lose," Tate replied. His eyebrows shot up.

"You didn't win shit, the game isn't over yet. How far would you be willing to go?"

"I'm not playing games with you, Kane."

"You started them. If you can't handle it, just say so."

"I can handle anything you can dish out."

They stared at each other for a minute, the tension thick in the air.  She didn't know what was going on between them  –  she should get up and  walk away. But it was like that night in his apartment all over again.  What Tate should do, and what she was going to do, were two very  different things. He fascinated her. She usually intimidated men, or was  just a good-time girl to them. Rarely did she banter or spar with them,  and if she did, she had no trouble ripping them a new ass hole.  Jameson, though, was unrippable.

"I want to hear about the best sex you've ever had," he switched the subject again. Tate laughed.

"Are you sure? It's not you," she teased. It was a complete lie, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

"I'll be the judge of that. Let's hear it," he said, leaning back in his chair. She thought for a second, leaning back as well.

"It was probably with my friend Ang, like two years ago or something. I  had a boyfriend, but he found out that I had slept with his best friend.  It was before we had started dating, but he didn't care. Totally  freaked out in a club, started screaming that I was the biggest slut  he'd ever met, just a huge whore. He kept shouting it to anyone who  would listen," Tate started. Jameson sighed.

"So your friend Ang came to your aide after a nasty, embarrassing break  up. Comforted you, wanted you to feel good about yourself," he tried to  fill in the story. Tate threw her head back and laughed.

"Not so much. Ang dragged him outside and beat the shit out of him.  Pretty hot. We fucked right there in the alley. Ang bent me over a  staircase and explained to my boyfriend, in graphic detail, what a good  fuck he was missing out on by dumping me," she finished.

"Wow. That was the best sex you ever had?" Jameson asked. She shrugged.         

     



 

"Easily in the top five. Most of those are Ang," she supplied.

"Must be an animal in bed."

"Yeah  –  he also has a huge dick."

She was trying to shock him on purpose, now. Tate was very comfortable  talking about sex, and in her experience, men tended to get nervous when  confronted with a woman who talked the way she did. Not Jameson Kane,  however. He nodded at her comment, showing all the interest of someone  listening to a weather report.

"That does help. Are you two still together?" he asked.

"We were never together. We're just friends who happen to sleep together, when the mood strikes us," she explained.

"And how does one become a friend like that to you?" Jameson inquired. Tate snickered.

"Why, Mr. Kane, do you want to be fuck buddies with me?" she laughed.

"Leave out the buddy part," he responded. She leaned forward in her chair.

"Not be you. Is that what this is really about? You want to have sex with me?" she asked.

"Of course I do. You can lie to me all you want, but I have no problem  admitting that you are still, to this day, probably the hottest pussy  I've ever had," he said, his voice casual.

Tate inhaled sharply and choked a little. Ang was pretty blunt with her,  but very few other men ever talked to her quite like that  –  it did  something to her blood pressure. Hearing Jameson say it, did something  to her. She rubbed her thighs together and took a deep breath.

"That's very flattering, Kane. Doesn't mean there will ever be a repeat," she replied.

"Why not?"

"Because. It's a bad idea. You were a massive dick. I'm a different person. It wouldn't be the same," she suggested. He nodded.

"You're right. It'll probably be much better, you were so inexperienced  last time," he said bluntly. She let out a snort  –  she was offended.

"If I was so 'inexperienced' and am still the best pussy you've ever  had, then you have been sleeping with some very subpar women," Tate  pointed out.

"I'm beginning to think I have. Why is it a bad idea? I mean, even if  those things are true, what do they have to do with us sleeping  together? You don't want a boyfriend, I don't want a girlfriend, so me  being a dick and you being different has nothing to do with us  screwing," Jameson pointed out.

Hmmm, he has a good point.

She shook her head.

"How about I just don't want to."

"Liar."

"You're like this super sexy, tycoon, wolf, man, person, thing  –  you can  sleep with any girl you want. What's the big deal about me?" Tate  asked, picking a paperweight up off his desk and tossing it between her  hands.

"Most girls want something from me. A commitment, a connection, a  trophy. Mostly I just want sex. Maybe someone I can treat badly from  time to time," he said. "I think you're looking for similar things. I  think we could help each other."

That caught her off guard. Despite their history, they didn't actually  know each other very well; yet he had her all figured out. His words  were like poetry to her, and at first, all she could think about was  saying yes. Yes, to anything he wanted. And his words paired with the  smoldering look on his face made him all that harder to resist. It was a  look that said he knew exactly what she wanted, and he knew exactly how  to give it to her. She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves.

"You know what," Tate began, standing up and sitting the paperweight  down. "I think we're done here. You wanted to talk to me, you did. You  wanted to hear how I've been doing, I told you. You asked if I would  sleep with you, I declined. Are we finished?"

He stared up at her, a smile spreading across his lips. Even though he  looked at her like he was picturing her naked, he still managed to have a  slight look of disdain about him. Like he knew something she didn't,  and was gloating about it. Holding it over her head, out of her reach.  She hated that feeling.

"Yes, I suppose so. When your curiosity gets the better of you, come  back and see me," Jameson told her. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her  purse.

"Goodbye, Kane," she said before walking out of the room at a brisk pace.

Tatum hadn't gotten to the point she was in life by lying to herself. He  was right  –  she was curious. She did want to sleep with him, wanted to  see if it would be the same. If it would be better. There really wasn't  any reason why they couldn't, or shouldn't, other than that she didn't  want to let him win. If withholding sex was the only weapon she had,  then she would wield it with a vengeance.

Maybe ...,

When she got outside, she dug her phone out of her purse and called Ang.  She was walking so fast, her hair was bouncing all over the place, but  she couldn't slow down. If she hadn't been worried about looking  completely crazy, she would've started running. She felt like she had  been infused with energy, with electricity. Ang didn't pick up the first  time and she swore at his voicemail, and then called him again. He  picked up after the second ring.         

     



 

"What's up, chica?" he sounded a little breathless.

"Are you busy right now!?" Tate burst out, weaving through the afternoon lunch crowd.

"Yes. What's up? You sound like you're jogging," he told her.

"I almost am, I'm walking through downtown. How busy? Can I come over?" she asked.

"Not a good idea, sweetie. Is it an emergency?" Ang asked. She finally  stopped walking and dragged herself out of the flow of people, over to a  building. She leaned against the wall.