Chapter 10
TEN
ARLO
Confidential — Personal Use Only
OBSERVATIONS:
She seems more forthcoming when she has consumed alcohol.
Noticing this, I wonder how much her openness is influenced by lowered inhibitions.
It must be the alcohol in her system that’s making her reconsider as she sits there, looking so much more relaxed, like a fucking goddess.
Before, I didn’t think she wanted anything but business from me, but as I’ve said, her body language is so closed off, she’s a difficult one to read.
But right now, as she spreads her legs just a little in that tight skirt, I can read her just fine.
It’s fucking difficult not to slide my hand up between her thighs and see if she’s wearing panties or not.
My guess is that she’s not. Which makes me even fucking madder that I’m restraining myself around her.
That’s one thing about me—I don’t restrain myself around women.
Ever. Some would say it’s cocky, but I understand what women want.
Most of the time, they want to come first. Men are eager, and some are just so enthusiastic they don’t think about the other person’s pleasure.
I like to watch a woman come undone under my hands, even more so when I degrade them.
But what I really enjoy is watching them break.
It’s sick. Fucked up. Twisted.
I know where it all comes from.
I understand it.
I wouldn’t be the esteemed and accomplished mental health professional that I am if I didn’t understand my own motivation for needing to break a woman and, at the same time, watch her come from pleasure.
Some hate it or appear to hate it. But they keep coming back for more.
I wonder what Cora might be like.
Would she let me tell her what a bad fucking girl she is? Let me break her apart and watch as she tries to put herself back together.
I’d like to find out. That much I do know.
“What’s with the beads?” she asks, nodding to the beaded length wrapped around my hand. I’ve seen her eyeing it a few times, but she didn’t ask about it until now.
“I like to use it to choke the women I fuck,” I tell her, then sit and wait for her reaction.
Her green gaze, like the color of a new leaf in spring, bounces from my face to my hand as her breathing ever so slightly changes at my confession.
“You fuck a lot of women?” she asks.
I lean forward, so close I can smell the wine on her breath. Her lipstick is almost nonexistent compared to what it was earlier.
“Do you fuck a lot of men?” I retort, remaining in her space. Most women would pull back, but she stays still, challenging me.
“I’ve fucked a few men.”
“Have you enjoyed it?” I ask, and she nods. “Have you been choked before?”
“No,” she answers casually.
I wonder what really fazes her, what gets under her skin and makes her scream. I really want to find out.
“Arlo.”
“Yes, Cora?”
“I think you should kiss me.”
“I think I should wait until you’re sober,” I reply because I want her to remember it.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Then she leans in, and before I can stop her, her lips are touching mine.
I clench the beads in my lap, resisting the urge to touch her, grab her, and pull her onto my lap.
My other hand, though, has a mind of its own and lifts to thread through her hair, pulling her closer.
She tastes so sweet, and I know it’s not just because of the wine she’s been drinking all night.
It’s just her. She parts her lips, and her tongue touches mine.
A low growl erupts from my throat as I grip her hair a little bit harder.
She doesn’t back up. Instead, she deepens our kiss, and I feel her moving closer to me before there’s a nip of pain on my lip.
She has bitten me so hard she’s drawn blood, and my cock hardens even more as I pull back to see the look of satisfaction on her face, especially when her tongue slides along her bottom lip, savoring every drop of me.
One thing I will not do is fuck a woman while she’s intoxicated.
I may be fucked up in a lot of ways, but that’s not one of them.
I want her to be acutely aware of every inch of her I touch.
And she can’t do that if her head is cloudy from all the alcohol she’s consumed.
She stares back at me with swollen lips that I know would look amazing wrapped around my cock.
“Good night, Arlo.” Her words come out breathless and sultry.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” I remind her.
She chuckles as she stands on unsteady legs and then heads for the door.
I wave over the server and point to her. “Be sure she gets in a cab safely.”
The server nods and follows her out.
I clench the beads in my hand, imagining the way they’ll look wrapped around her throat—how she’ll let me choke her with them, surrendering every breath to me.
The thought alone makes my pulse thrum.
One day, she’ll beg for it.
And when she does, I’ll leave my marks—deep and unmistakable—so every inch of her knows exactly who she belongs to.