Cheater

20. Derek

I won’t stop myself from watching to see how she reacts to my actions. I want to know. I want to see. I anticipate her responses, look forward to seeing how she’ll respond when I push a little harder. I know I’m becoming addicted, because I need to keep reminding myself to check my pace.

I’ll ramp things up a notch at a time to give her everything.

I want her longing. I want to see it, feel it. When I enter a room, I want her focused on me. I want to know her nipples have gone hard, that her panties are wet. I want the sight of me to make her body react in ways that astonish her.

I know women find me attractive. I want something much deeper than what I get from most women this time. How deep? Each time I see her, each reaction I get leaves me wanting even more.

I saw some of the yearning before, and while I fucked her the first time. It was even more potent the morning after, though it hasn’t gotten to the level I want – the level I heard in her voice before we met when she talked about what she wasn’t getting from him. Intimacy. Eye contact. Physical affection. She wants to feel seen. Appreciated. Wanted.

She’ll have all those things from me and more. Because she’ll get to live out all her fantasies while she has my utter and complete devotion and attention. I’ll pamper her. I’ll worship her.

The physical attraction was there for me from the moment I saw the longing in her eyes. Hers was evident for me when we met. Things shifted and the budding affection that built for me disappeared when I revealed that I overheard her and her friend in the club that first night. Her eyes changed. Hurt, I guess. Betrayed, probably, because although we didn’t know one another well, she let me in physically and I already see she doesn’t give that away without consideration. Physical intimacy isn’t throw-away for her like it’s always been for me. Until now, it was all about urges. Release. For Chloe, it means something deeper. And I respect that. She feels disappointed that she let me in physically because I disappointed her emotionally.

I won’t skirt the facts. She needs to know just what she gets with me. She’ll soon understand just how fucked up the man who’s fixated on her is. It’s beyond a fixation; I already know I’m traveling down the chain of addiction with her. And I’m taking things slower than I want to – because it’s necessary.

People around me get concerned when I pursue my interests at my preferred pace.

My father always told us your strategy is important. Before you devise one, learn all you can through research and observation so the most logical course of action with the minimum amount of risk will reveal itself.

My father had plenty of advice for his sons as kids. Continuous lectures. Nowadays I don’t have much to say to him and he’s given up on saying much to me. But I’ve remembered all his lessons well. Too well.

I’ll work to get Chloe’s longing aimed in my direction. Until she wants me a whole lot more than she ever wanted Hallman. Or anybody. With a big difference. She’ll get everything she wants from me. I’ll do more than make all her sexual fantasies come true. She will not have a doubt in her mind that I want her. She’ll feel worshipped, treasured.

I stand in the shower fisting my cock with her face in my mind. I see her on her knees taking me – eyes watering but still full of lust and submission the way they were that first night. It’s only been eleven hours since I had her. And I already crave more.

I crave fucking her with those looks, those reactions from the first night. But until things progress emotionally for her, I’ll take what I can get.

I make it to noon before I send her a text message with a demand. As I send it, I switch to the screen with the set of windows showing me the wired rooms in her house. She’s in front of her computer in her home office. Hallman is in front of his computer in the other office. He’s playing a video game. She’s replying to a work email, but immediately lifts her phone at the alert.

I watch her read the message.

I want you at my place at 7. Wear your hair in those big curls like you wore the night we met. Same red lipstick. Wait for me in my bed wearing the clothing I’ll leave on the end of the bed. I’ll be there soon after you. Bring your appetite.

She puts her phone down, shoves her keyboard back toward her monitor, and rests her forehead on the edge of the desk for a good two minutes before I send another message.

Acknowledge you received this message, Chloe.

She doesn’t move to check it despite that I hear the ping.

I send another one.

Don’t disappoint me.

She’s still face-down on the desk, so I phone her.

She picks it up, looks at the screen and sighs before answering.

“What?”

“When I message you, I want replies. Prompt ones.”

“Whatever,” she mutters.

“Chloe,” I warn.

She says nothing.

“Be here at seven,” I order. “Put the outfit on and I’ll be along soon afterwards. Don’t disappoint me.”

She holds the phone and looking at her profile on my screen, I see fire in her expression. And it sparks something in my blood. Something I like.

“I need a response, Chloe.”

She thrusts her middle finger up in the air.

I chuckle, letting her know I see her. “Be my good girl, baby. I’m not sure you’re ready yet to see what I do to you when you’re my bad girl.”

She deflates but says nothing.

“You’ll be here at seven,” I tell her. “Don’t eat dinner before you come. I have something planned.”

She doesn’t reply.

“Chloe?”

“Fine,” she rasps.

“Bunny,” I say, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight. You’re gonna cry out my name as I lap up all your sweet juices. And guess what?”

She doesn’t answer me.

“Don’t worry, I’ll feed you, too. With dinner and I’m also thinking I’ll paint my name down the back of your throat tonight, too. Seven o’clock, baby.”

I hang up and fire off two text messages. First, to my personal shopper. Second, to my sister’s chef friend.

Excitement pulses in my veins as I enter the apartment and set the two thermal bags of food on the table. The food will keep for an hour while I spend time with Chloe, which I’m anxious for, but I deny myself for a moment longer, long enough to pour two drinks at the kitchen counter. I carry them toward where I know she’s supposed to be waiting.

And she’s here. Waiting on my bed on her knees, sitting with her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. She’s wearing a little white and silver mostly sheer spaghetti-strapped number that immediately makes my dick hard. Her nipples are hard. My eyes travel to see the straps of matching panties underneath the layers of fabric that comes to her thighs. I notice there’s an open box containing a pair of matching silver heels on the bench at the end of the bed.

Her eyes are downcast, and her teeth are nibbling on her bottom lip. She followed directions with the lipstick. With her hair.

“I’m very pleased my good girl followed my directions. And on your knees, too? Mm.”

I set both drinks on the dresser.

She shifts so that now she’s sitting, legs folded on one side instead. A little bit of defiance. Her cheeks are pink.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Chloe,” I tell her as I shed my suit jacket and undo my cuffs. “Brought you a Jack and ginger.”

“No, thank you,” she says without looking at me. “I don’t drink when I need to drive.”

“Good girl,” I say, then add, “Gonna want another sleepover soon, though. We’ll schedule that.”

Her eyes meet mine with fire in them. “You don’t need to do this, do you? I mean… for real, Derek. Please help me understand why you’re doing this.”

“Because I want you,” I say simply.

“You can’t tell me you have difficulty finding women who want to…” she trails off.

“I don’t want just any woman, Chloe. I don’t want random. I just want you.”

Her forehead crinkles with confusion.

“You have no idea how under my skin you’ve gotten.” I take a sip of my drink, then remove my shirt as I kick off my shoes. Her eyes are on my torso. I stretch my neck and then go for my belt.

Her expression is filled with distress.

“Guess what’s for dinner, bunny.”

She shakes her head while shrugging and doesn’t meet my eyes. She’d rather be somewhere else. Anywhere else, I’d guess. But I’m going to change how she feels.

And the fact that my hands are on my fly hits me.

“Ah. That’s not what I meant but I like how you think. Prime rib. And…” I leave it hang for a moment, before answering, “we’ve got baked potatoes and a bunch of toppings. Know why?”

She says nothing, keeps her eyes focused on her hands.

“Look at me, Chloe.”

Her eyes come up slowly.

“Because we both know you like your baked potato loaded, don’t you?” I chuckle. “Sour cream. Butter. Cheese. Bacon. Chives. You want flavor, baby, so I told the chef to season the potato before she baked it, too.”

She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut tight.

And it hits me that I’m going to eventually learn things about her that don’t come from me overhearing them, that don’t come from watching her live her life without me right there to witness it in person. I’m going to learn things about this girl firsthand. Soon. And I look forward to it.

“Check your bank account?” I ask.

She frowns.

“I dropped the hundred k for you this morning.”

She shakes her head. “Why would you do that?”

“I told you. It’s your bonus.”

“What, like I’m your whore or something?”

I sit beside her and take her face into both hands. “Don’t call yourself that unless you’re saying it with confidence. That you’re my whore because it turns you on to say it. Not to say it like it’s a distasteful thing.”

“I’m nobody’s whore,” she whispers. “I don’t want your money.”

“You’re someone who deserves to not worry about money. I can tell you’re conscientious and non-materialistic by how you live your life, by how you spend your money. Not to mention the fact you gave that ten thousand dollars to him. So I gave you more.”

I’m interested to see what she does with it. I can see she doesn’t carry a balance on her credit card. She pays her bills on time. She’s got a good credit score. She also didn’t have much after she put nearly everything toward her house down payment and she’s been living lean while trying to save twenty per cent of each pay.

“Why does he send you less than half the grocery money?” I ask.

She frowns. “Pardon?”

“You and Hallman split bills down the middle. You put the grocery receipt on the side of the fridge yesterday and then this morning, he sent you half, but he shorted you by fifteen bucks from his half. Why?”

“He probably didn’t reimburse me for my tampons. I underlined them so he’d know they were just mine.”

I frown. “That’s bullshit.”

“Why do you care?”

“I can’t wrap my head around how he isn’t taking care of you.”

“I don’t need him to take care of me.”

“You don’t. Because from now on, I’m taking care of you.”

The alarmed look mixed with confusion makes me realize I’m showing my hand too soon.

“I can take care of myself,” she says softly, looking perplexed.

“And you’ve done that for far too long,” I reply.

“I don’t want your money. I’m returning it.”

“No, you’re not.”

And now I’m wishing I hadn’t said anything about the money. I could’ve just watched to see what she’d do with it. From everything I’ve surmised so far, she’d probably use it for good.

I reach out and she flinches.

I caress her shoulder with my fingertips.

“You’re very beautiful,” I tell her.

She swallows hard and stares at her lap. I loop my finger under the strap over her shoulder and it falls. The lingerie is tight enough across her breasts that nothing further is revealed.

“I’ve been thinking about you since you left,” I add.

She moistens her lips and blows out a long exhale, saying nothing.

I regard her for another moment, how perfectly still she is, wondering if it’d disappoint her if I didn’t fuck her right now. After a long moment, I announce, “Let’s go eat.”

I get up and hold out my hand.

She flinches, looking confused. I’d hoped she’d look disappointed, but I’m not getting that.

“Take my hand, Chloe.”

She does and I help her up.

“Don’t like the shoes?” I ask, staring at the box on the bench.

“They seemed a little unnecessary,” she says.

“Do you like them? I notice you have some nice shoes in your closet, though you rarely wear them.”

“I work at home. I don’t need to wear expensive shoes every day.”

“Do you like those?”

“They’re nice.”

“Put them on,” I say, then I take them out of the box and set them on the floor in front of her. “Here.” I gesture to my shoulder.

She places a hand on me while she gets into the shoes, which raises her up a few inches.

“After you,” I say and gesture for her to walk ahead.

She does, and I get to admire the sexy lingerie while she walks ahead in very high heels that make her legs look even hotter.

“Didn’t get a chance to set the table. Have a seat. I’ll take care of that.”

She sits at the table, looking pensive.

I grab two plates and some cutlery, then unload the food. She watches, saying nothing.

I fetch her drink from the bedroom, then give her a bottle of water before serving her.

I unwrap the foil over the potato and steam curls up. The room is filled with the fragrance of the spices.

“Oh, roasted corn,” I add after inspecting an extra container. “Load up your potato, baby.”

I open a container of what looks like spiced butter.

She shakes her head. “I’m not playing this game with you, Derek. I’m not going to sit here and get excited about you bringing in food that I like as if it actually softens the blow of what you’re doing to me. You can take all this food and choke on it.”

“Guess I made the right call not ordering dessert. I was gonna do up a sundae bar. Thought we could eat those in bed after round two. Should we get started on round one then, since you’re not hungry?”

She stares at me hatefully.

“There was that sexy Sunday sundaes post you wrote about fucking all day and eating sundaes together in bed. Remember? Would you prefer to leave instead?” I ask.

“Of course I would,” she snaps.

“Fine. Go.” I gesture.

She looks surprised.

She doesn’t wait for me to say it twice, doesn’t risk me changing my mind. She rushes back to my room and in a matter of minutes, she’s gone. No goodbye.

After I eat alone and clean up, I find the discarded lingerie on my bench, including the little G-string, which I inspect.

An adorable little wet spot on the crotch.

Yeah. I thought so. As much as she’s angry and embarrassed, she can’t help but want me.

I put the fabric to my nose and inhale, then smile as my cock hardens.

She’s gone home and she’s probably denying she’s a little disappointed that I didn’t fuck her tonight.

She’ll lie there in bed, wondering what I’d have done to her if she’d stayed.