Chapter 20
TWENTY
AUSTIN
I could shoot myself in the foot for crying on Maddox Whittaker’s chest like that.
I rarely cried, but when I did, it was always ugly like that—a volatile mix of bottling shit up for too long, never having time to break down in private, and a childhood full of moments where I was yelled at for crying.
Now I’ve gone and made Maddox feel sorry for me and he’s added me to the list of people he worries about, as though he needed that list to be one person longer.
The patrons feel bad for me, so my tips are stellar for the rest of the night. Maybe I should cry in public more often after all. It might just be the thing that gets me out of here.
Dad is passed out on the couch when I get home and, technically, I could take the rest of the night off if I wanted to.
The tips I made at the bar tonight, considering it was supposed to be my night off, have already put me ahead of the game.
I tell myself I log on to prove to Maddox that I’m just fine, that the crying stint was just a fluke. That he doesn’t need to worry about me.
But the reality is, I log on because I know Maddox is watching for that notification. He logs in less than two minutes after I go live, immediately tipping $250 for a private show.
DamnDan: Fucking Christ, I hate when this guy is on.
“You know, you can text me without paying a dime,” I say as soon as the private chat room connects, adjusting my camera so that my face is showing. He turns his on a second later, gracing me with the view of his ugly—gorgeous—mug.
“Seems the only time you want anything to do with me is when I’m paying for your time, so I figured this would be easier,” he replies. It fucking stings.
“That’s not fair,” I argue immediately. “You’re the one who ghosted me after buying me the stupid lingerie. I told you it was too expensive, and you insisted—”
“I don’t give a fuck about the lingerie, Austin.”
“What then? You realize you were spending too much on a whore?” I say, emphasizing the word I know he hates just to piss him off more. Things were getting too touchy-feely between us. I need normalcy.
Maddox’s jaw clenches and he pulls his eyes away from the screen like he’s reigning in his temper, which is absolutely no fun at all.
For a girl who usually tries to avoid angry men, I sure love riling Maddox up.
I’m about to find something else to say to piss him off when he replies with something I never saw coming. “I’m sorry, Tex.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to just stop talking to you and everything. I got in my head about something and I took it out on you and that wasn’t right.”
I don’t know how to respond right away, so, instead, it looks like I’m doing my best impression of a largemouth bass.
It’s just that an apology was the last thing I expected out of his mouth when I was purposefully riling him up.
Also, in general, the list of men I’d ever known to apologize was short.
“It’s fine,” I finally settle on, trying to pretend it hadn’t even bothered me, like I hadn’t wondered for weeks what I’d done wrong to make him change his mind.
“Uh, did you hear me when I called myself a whore again?” I ask, since he hadn’t taken the bait and the whole point had been to piss him off.
He huffs out a laugh with a smirk to match. “Yeah, brat. I heard you. I’m trying to decide if you keep saying it because you just think it’s fun to piss me off or if you’re itching to have your ass spanked.”
I can only pray that the mic doesn’t pick up the way my breath hitches. I grab my phone, pretending a notification came through and distracted me so I can pull my gaze from the screen.
Being dominated by Maddox is something I’ve been fantasizing about since long before I’d openly admit to it, long before I had any way of knowing he was a Dom.
I’d spend Sunday nights at his house eating supper with his little sister and his mama and then go straight home and shove my hand down my panties to fantasize.
“Was that too much, after what happened today?” Despite the question, his voice is steady. I can’t make myself look back at the screen, but I can almost picture his head tilted just so, eyes squinty like every other time he’s tried to figure me out.
“No,” I say, typing a bit more gibberish into my notes app before tossing my phone back down and meeting his eyes through the screen again.
There they are—squinting like he can see through me if he strains hard enough.
“That whole thing wasn’t any big deal. The crying wasn’t…
I just didn’t get any sleep last night, so I was running on fumes,” I lie.
I don’t know when I learned to read him as well as he can clearly read me, but I know he’s not buying my excuse. He’s not even going to pretend he is to be polite.
“Regardless, it was a big deal,” he argues softly. “No one has the right to touch you without your consent, point blank period.”
“Are you planning on giving this same TED Talk to the last dozen or so guys who needed to hear it, or just to me?” I realize pretty quickly that Maddox isn’t someone who appreciates dark humor.
His eyes widen briefly before they fill with anger, like he’s about to demand a list of names for all the men who’ve ever wronged me.
I cut him off before he can get on his high horse. “So, were you offering?”
“To give TED Talks, whatever the fuck that is?” he asks.
“To punish me for being a brat.”
He blinks, and just like that, he’s moved on from whatever murder plans he was making.
The shock wears off after a second, a cocky smirk replacing it.
One day, I’ll slap it off his face just so he’ll take my wrists and pin them above my head.
“So I was right. You’ve just been aching for a sore ass all this time, haven’t you, baby? ”
I shrug like I couldn’t care less. “Eh. I don’t have anything on the agenda that requires a long period of sitting or anything, so might as well.”
Maddox grins so wide, I can’t help but mirror it. He smooths down his mustache, like that’ll make the smile go away, but it doesn’t. “Come over,” he says. “You can spend the night.”
“Drive ten minutes to your ranch at one o’clock in the morning just to get my ass whooped? I don’t think so, Rancher. Sweeten the pot with a nice fuck and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Outwardly, I’m RedRanger. Coy, seductive, bratty—playing him like a violin. Inside, I’m a ball of nerves. I just might be fucking Maddox Whittaker tonight. Finally. After years of wanting him.
“You know what?” he says after a few seconds. “Fuck it.”