“I want to know more about your life, Slade. Why do you have all those suits in your closest? Please don’t tell me they’re costumes for work because I know that’s not true. I saw the pictures of you wearing them. You looked . . . different. Nothing like you do today.”
My eyes study her face. She’s really serious about this. She wants to know about me. It may sound a little fucked up, but she’s the first woman to ask me anything personal about my life. All that the other women wanted was a good fuck and they knew they would get it from me. I grew used to it; got comfortable and became accustomed to it. It became my escape; my addiction. It may make me sound like shit, but when you basically fuck for a living you get used to it; crave it and then it gets hard to stop.
For some reason I want to tell her. I want her to know more about me. “All right. I’ll tell you.” I pick her up by the hips and set her down so she’s straddling the back of my bike just like the last time we were here. I just hope she’s ready for this because it’s a long fucking story and one I don’t usually tell.
“I used to be a lawyer.” She gives me a shocked look by widening her eyes, but stays quiet. I know, it’s quite a fucking shocker from looking at the man you see today. “I worked for my father’s Law Firm. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. It was what I was expected to do. I didn’t have a passion for it; although, I was one of the best. Everyone wanted me to handle their cases because they knew they wouldn’t get any better. I was a damn good lawyer. I just didn’t like it. I worked very hard; too hard. It got boring as shit and fast.”
I grab her legs and yank her to me so her legs are wrapped around my waist and my hands are locked behind her back. “After the accident, I shut myself off from the world. I didn’t leave my house for about a month straight. When that month was up, I couldn’t force myself to go back to that life. No matter how hard my father pushed me, I just pushed back. I couldn’t fucking do it anymore. I was tired of living life the way he wanted me to. There was only one option; to quit.”
“A few months later, after draining the money I had in my savings account and not doing shit but eating, showering and sleeping, Cale asked me to come out to a party at Walk Of Shame. I hadn’t been out of the house pretty much at all since the accident, so I agreed to go out and try to get my mind off things. Cale was dancing that night along with Hemy and somehow the women kept mistaking me for one of the dancers. They couldn’t keep their hands off me. I hadn’t felt anything in a long time and that night, I had such a rush that I was on some kind of high. It was the first feeling I had since the accident. I grew addicted to the rush and depended on it. It was my normalcy, so I took a job at the club and became roommates with Cale a few months later. I’ve just barely been getting by. First it was the dancing and the sex, then it became the tattoos and the pain I got from them. It kept me feeling something; made me feel more alive. When that didn’t help me anymore, I moved on and it became the drinking. The alcohol was enough to numb it. It has gotten me by . . . until now. I want more though. I just don’t know if I can have it; if I deserve it.”
She scoots closer to me and reaches out to cup my face in her hands. I find myself reaching up to place my hands over hers as I look into her eyes. It feels nice. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I know how hard this must be for you. I also know that you don’t open up very often. It means a lot to me.” She leans in, hesitates, but then presses her lips against mine.
She gets ready to pull away, but I tangle my hands in the back of her hair and pull her as close to me as I can. The feeling I have right now is unexplainable. It’s so fucking good that I could just kiss her all night and not give a damn about anything else. I haven’t talked to anyone about my past and with her, she makes it feel so natural; so damn easy. It’s like she’s the medicine I’ve needed all along; the way to cope.
The feel of her in my arms and the taste of her in my mouth makes me feel . . . at ease. Just a little bit of peace finally; not enough to kill the pain, but enough to give me a little hope.
I pick her up off my bike and wrap her legs around my waist while kissing her long and hard. I want her to know that she’s only making me want her more each and every day. At first, it was just a sexual attraction; the need to have something that I couldn’t, but it’s become more to me than just that. She’s different than the other girls. She’s more than just a fuck. She’s addictive, but the right kind of addiction. I have a very addictive personality and she may be the thing I need to feed it.