11. Eleven
Eleven
Betsy
I open the audiobook on my phone, selecting the bookmark for my favorite scene—the consensual-non-consent scene that’s long been my secret indulgence, a guilty pleasure that I hoped I could one day play out.
This can be a talking point like Lazovski mentioned.
Funneling the energy of the people who admired me at the sex club, the subsequent orgasms from Bull’s mouth and hand, and Rocky’s agreement to have sex, I imagine myself as the heroine.
Indiscernible voices from the other room pull me back to reality. I start gathering ingredients for Bull’s favorite cookies. Flour, sugar, vanilla extract. I pause and consider the vanilla. Is this a bad idea? I’ve been making these cookies since I was a kid, but maybe that’s the point.
An idea sparks. I’ll add something different, something to make them exciting and fresh. I rummage through the pantry, finding the peppermint extract. Perfect. A spicy twist on a vanilla classic. He can love both versions, can’t he?
The old and the new me.
Tension in their voices drifts in. I reach for my phone, cranking up the volume. The scene is getting to the good part where the men take control. The roughness and the power exchange make my heart pound. I want them to hear it, to understand.
I want Bull to stop controlling himself and control me—in new ways.
The familiar motions of mixing the dough grounds me as the scene plays out—the woman’s protests, the men’s demands, the naughty game they’ve all agreed to.
I dip my finger into the dough and bring the new flavor to my mouth. So satisfying. Why hadn’t I tried this before?
Bull and Rocky’s conversation stops. I glance toward the doorway as they stare at me in horror. They heard the book, but do they understand what I’m trying to tell them?
Bull bursts into the kitchen, thrown to the side by Rocky as they rush to me. They talk over each other, demanding to know what kind of trash I’m listening to.
Bull reaches for my phone. I try to stop him, but he overpowers me and shuts it off. “What the hell was that?”
“Betsy…” Rocky’s voice and expression are full of concern, and possibly, disgust.
I try to find the words. “It’s just a story. It’s consensual.”
Bull’s face hardens. “Forcing a woman to have sex isn’t fine, Betsy. It’s not something to fantasize about.”
“Women do all the time. It’s safe.”
“It’s not.” He reaches out, grabbing the knot in my t-shirt. He’s torn between his attempt to release it and to avoid touching me. My shirt falls partway, caught uncomfortably between modest and revealing, leaving me feeling embarrassed.
“You don’t understand.” I bite my fingernail. “They have safewords. It’s all agreed upon.”
Bull slams his fist on the counter, making me jump. “That’s not how the real world works, Betsy. You can’t say a word and make everything stop. You could get hurt.”
Rocky nods, siding with Bull. “He’s right. Whatever you’re listening to is dangerous.”
Bull runs a hand through his hair, his voice firm. “I’m sorry if I made a mess of things by winning you at the club, but maybe I saved you from actual harm. This stops now.” He turns and walks away, leaving me exposed and speechless.
Rocky’s brow furrows as he studies me, his expression a blend of concern and confusion. “Betsy, I’m trying to wrap my head around this, but what I heard…” His gaze searches mine, pleading for an explanation.
His mental wheels turn as he tries to reconcile what his innocent niece enjoys.
“It’s a kink.”
“It’s not a safe one.” He paces away from me, his fingers dragging through his hair.
“Please let me explain. It’s called consensual-non-consent.”
He pauses, slowly turns, and says, “Non-consent… Do you know what that sounds—”
“But it’s consensual.”
He starts to say something then turns and leaves.
I really screwed this up.