Sexy Fugitive: Unless what?
Me: Unless we’re talking about your beautiful, selfish pussy and how it milks my cock.
I waited a moment, but there was no quick response. I turned my attention back toward the screen, watching as the prospects, including Flash, exchanged a duffel bag with an unknown man for a package. I didn’t know what was inside, but the group was heavy in the drug trade in the central Florida region. Most likely it was heroin or meth.
Sexy Fugitive: You scare me, James.
I knew I’d come on strong, but fuck. I didn’t want to waste time playing a bullshit game. I’d laid my feelings out for her, made my intentions known. Izzy wasn’t just another easy fuck to me.
Me: Nothing to be scared of, doll. I’m not the boogeyman.
Sexy Fugitive: You’re scarier.
I paused the video, Izzy taking precedence over the grainy images on my laptop.
Me: Why?
Sexy Fugitive: I don’t want to like you.
I deconstructed her words. She didn’t want to, but she did. I smiled, rubbing my lips as I chose my next words carefully.
Me: What scares you most?
I needed to cut off the head of the beast. Face her fear head on and alter her perception. The last thing in the world I wanted was a scared Izzy Gallo. She needed to know that I wasn’t the enemy.
Sexy Fugitive: I swore off men like you.
Men like me? What the fuck did that mean? I knew I could be demanding in the bedroom, but besides that, I was like every other red-blooded American man. She wanted easy, someone she could control. That shit I was not down for. Just like her, no one told me what to do.
Me: Men like me?
I wanted her thoughts. She needed to voice her fears to me. Maybe it wasn’t my demanding ways in the bedroom. I didn’t want to expand until I knew her reasoning. I always believed in not giving too much information without knowing the enemy you faced. My enemy in this battle was Izzy’s fear.
Sexy Fugitive: You’re demanding and bossy.
I laughed when I read her message. Izzy wasn’t a fucking cream puff. Those exact words could be used to describe her.
Me: The only time I’m bossy and demanding is when we’re fucking, doll. I like things done my way in the bedroom.
I had particular tastes. Most people do. I didn’t do missionary style with rose petals spread across the bed. I liked shit raw and rough, and I wanted to be in total control. That’s not to say I wouldn’t hand over the reins from time to time, but I was a man, after all, and the bedroom was my domain.
Sexy Fugitive: You want shit done your way all the time.
Me: That’s bullshit. I like you because you’re the most aggressive and strongest woman I’ve ever met. I don’t want a pushover who’s going to do everything I ask.
Sexy Fugitive: You want me to fight back?
Me: Outside of the bedroom, yes. I love that fucking smartass mouth of yours. When you get mouthy, it makes me rock fucking hard.
Sexy Fugitive: And inside the bedroom?
Would Izzy understand the difference? Would she be able to give herself willingly during sex? She’d seemed to enjoy herself this weekend when I’d told her to strip. She’d had me by the balls during her striptease.
Me: I’m the boss in the bedroom.
Sexy Fugitive: I don’t know if I can deal with that.
Me: Did you like when I told you to strip?
Sexy Fugitive: Not at first.
Me: And then?
Sexy Fugitive: I liked teasing you as I danced.
Sitting there, I thought of her naked, shaking her ass and hips as she took off her clothes. Her dark olive skin and brown hair had made me hard in the dim lighting of the room. It had taken everything in me not to throw her to the ground immediately and fuck her brains out.
Me: Did you like when I fucked you?
Sexy Fugitive: Yes…
The dot dot dot told me that she wasn’t happy with admitting it, but she had nonetheless.
Me: Was there anything I did that you didn’t like?
I wanted to know where her head was with what I did to her. Maybe I moved too fast, but I wouldn’t apologize for who or what I was.
I started the video again, needing to get my head in the game. I wanted to nail these motherfuckers as soon as possible so I could get the fuck out of this town. Five minutes later, there still wasn’t a reply from Izzy, but I knew we weren’t over.
Chapter 13 - Opinions Are Like Assholes
“Hey, Terri,” I said as he walked through the door, interrupting my conversation with James. I knew it was shitty spot to leave him hanging, but I didn’t have a choice. It would be hours until I could answer the question.
“Hey, babe. I’m ready,” he said, cracking his neck.
I winced and patted the chair in front of me. The piece was a monster—an entire back design. I had done the outline previously, and today¸ we’d finish it. The dude, although not a pussy, didn’t like to talk while he got inked. He put on his headphones and blocked out the world while I worked.