"Fuck the apartment! What happened to crazy bitch!?" Tate exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. He smiled and traced a finger down the side of her face. Her hair was a mess and her eye makeup was smeared down her cheeks, but she was looking at him. Really looking at him, all of the detachment from earlier gone.
She is so beautiful.
"I should've looked you up," he blurted out. Her eyes got wide.
"Excuse me?"
"Seven years. I should've looked you up. I thought about you. Wondered what you were doing. That night was a pretty big deal. I never imagined that you would turn out like you did," he told her.
"What, like you?" she asked. He nodded.
"Yeah."
"I wouldn't have imagined it, either, back then. You unleashed something in me. Thank you," she told him. He laughed and pushed himself so he was sitting up, resting back against the headboard.
"Don't thank me yet. You were ready to kill me earlier," he reminded her.
"I was hurt. I was stupid. I'll get over it," she assured him. He shook his head.
"It wasn't stupid. I could've told you. I would've wanted you to tell me, I guess. Dealing with her isn't always the most pleasant experience. We broke up last year, but besides having some investment plans together, we just run in to each other a lot. Sex happens sometimes. Old feelings get stirred up. It's fucked up, but I'm kind of a fucked up guy," he told her. She laid back down, facing away from him, and there was silence for a few moments.
"Old feelings, huh," she said softly.
"Tatum."
"Hmmm?"
"If I tell you something, will you please, please, not be a girl about it? Not read too much in to it?"
Tate propped herself back up. Pushed her messy hair out of her face. She scooted closer and rested her chin against his knee. He smiled down at her, reached out and ran a hand over her hair.
She deserves better than me.
"I make no promises, but I'll try. I'm usually pretty good about it. Just not today," she replied.
"I didn't want to like you," he stated bluntly. She held her breath, but kept staring at him. "When I first saw you, got them to hire you as a temp. I had no intention of knowing you. I just wanted to sleep with you again. You looked so amazing, and god, your mouth. That was my plan the whole time. I wanted to see if you were like how I remembered, if anything could ever be that good again. It was better. You weren't scared of me, you stuck around. Were willing to take more than I was even prepared to dish out," he told her. She laughed, leaned to the side and nibbled on his thigh.
"I told you, flattery will -,"
"I like you, Tatum. A lot. I don't want you to leave. When you didn't come home tonight, didn't answer your cell phone, that was my first thought. That it was over, you were bored, didn't care. I always thought it would be me first. I was upset. I don't want to let you go, not yet. I like you," he stressed.
She frowned at him, her brows creasing together.
"That's very sweet, Jameson, but I'm not sure I understand. Why am I not supposed to be a girl about that?" she asked. He sighed, running his fingers through her hair.
"Because it won't ever be more than that. You're a friend, a very good friend. But that's it. There will never be a ring from Harry Winston. I will never ask you to marry me. I don't want those things, I never did. Not with Pet, not with anybody. I like to have fun, I like to fuck. I don't want to put stars in your eyes, I'm not that guy. I'm the devil, and I don't have any plans to change. But I like you, and I would like you to stay with me, for a little while longer," he said.
There. He didn't know how else he could say it. How did he explain to a woman that he only ever wanted to be ..., how had she put it? "Fuck buddies"? He liked Tatum, probably a lot more than he was admitting to himself, or to her. But he didn't want to get her hopes up. Things had gone so badly between him and Pet; he didn't want that happening with Tate. She was someone he always wanted to call a friend. He wanted to hold her down, and bend her to his will, and make her do degrading, horrible things with him.
And I want her to be my friend.
"I'll stay, Jameson. I'll stay," she murmured, moving away from him to lay back on her stomach.
"You're okay with all that?" he asked. More silence.
"I have to be. It's all you have to offer," she finally replied.
"You don't want more?" he pressed.
"Do you want me to lie?"
"No."
"Of course I want more. I am a girl, you're right. I want Prince Charming to ride up on a white horse, and carry me off to his castle. The only difference between me and other girls is once I get there, I want him to bend me over the throne and pull my hair while he fucks me hard and calls me names. But I know that'll never happen with you. I'm not sure I'd even want it to be you – you are the devil," Tate agreed with him. Jameson laughed.
"Prince Charming could never treat you as good as the devil," he teased. She shrugged.
"Maybe not. But maybe so. What'll happen to you, if I'm ever so blessed to find this magical S&M Prince Charming?" she asked. He looked at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about that moment.
"Go back to hell. Find another succubus," Jameson replied.
"Whoever she is, I hope she's as good as me," she whispered.
"No will ever be as good as you, Tatum."
~13~
Jameson watched Tate go home later that afternoon. She didn't come back for three days. Three hair raising, teeth grinding, skin clawing days. She had said she wanted to be with him. He was halfway tempted to go find her and drag her home by her hair, force her to keep her word. But for the first time since they had started sleeping together, Jameson didn't know if that would be welcome.
She turned up on her own, on a Wednesday night. Just strolled in to his library, like no time had passed. She kissed him on the cheek, then went upstairs to change her clothes. He didn't see her again for about an hour, and when he went to look for, she was in Sanders' room, playing chess. He felt left out, but he didn't want to intrude. He wound up laying in bed, staring at his ceiling, thinking about her.
"I looked for you downstairs," her voice came from his doorway.
"I'm not there."
"Ooohhh, there's a tone. Satan feeling especially devilish tonight?" Tate asked with a laugh, shutting the door behind her.
"No more than usual. How was the chess game?" he asked.
"Is that it? Sanders? I don't have to spend time with him," she told him. Jameson hadn't looked away from the ceiling and she hadn't come in to his field of vision.
"I don't care. What have you been doing all week?" he questioned her. He felt the bed dip. She was sitting near his feet.
"Stuff. Just kinda moped around my apartment," she answered.
"No more baseball players?" he asked with a smirk. She laughed.
"No. Truth? He was nothing compared to you," her voice was low and husky. She had come to play.
Am I game?
"Nice words. The question is whether or not I believe you," he said. She laughed again.
"I don't really care whether or not you believe me. If you don't want me sleeping with other people, just say so," she told him. He paused.
"Was he any good at all?" he asked.
"Yes."
"How good?"
"Not as good as you. Not as good as Ang. But pretty good. I wouldn't say no to seconds," she replied.
"Did you come?"
"Twice."
"Where did you fuck him?"
"The bar."
"In the bar? Wow, Tate. I'm missing out."
"I know. And in the back bar, on a pool table."
"Hot."
"I think I scared him a little, but he liked it."
"I know the feeling," Jameson laughed. Her hand rested on his leg.
"I could never scare you," she whispered.
"You scare me right now," he replied.
Suddenly she was crawling up his body. Her knees came to a rest on either side of his hips and he rested his hands on her thighs. Her hands were flat against his chest, pushing herself upright.
"Don't be ridiculous, it doesn't suit you. He wasn't exactly a take charge kind of guy, I had to lead the way," Tate continued with her story.
"Sounds like a pussy," Jameson commented, laughing. She shrugged.
"Just different. Sometimes it's fun to be in charge," she told him. He stopped laughing.
"Do you want to tell me what to do? Take the lead here?" he asked. She chuckled, a dark sound, and suddenly she was leaning close, her teeth against his neck.
"No. You're so good at it," she breathed. He clenched his fingers, digging them in to her thighs.
"This isn't very interesting. Little man, so scared of the big bad wolf that you had to hold his hand to help you get off. We should just stick to my stories," Jameson taunted.