23. Dani #2
“Down, down. I need to go back down.” I press the door close button, but the elevator just makes confused noises at me.
“Help! Obey me. Fuck technology. They need to bring back elevator operators.”
I’m in front of the elevator pressing the down button, trying to get it together, and digging in my purse to call an Uber when the door opens.
“Dani?”
“Eep!” My hand comes out of my purse with my phone—wait, that’s not my phone.
Graham’s eyes narrow.
“What are you doing with those handcuffs?”
I stare at him.
He looks good.
He’s just wearing his suit pants, no tie, the white dress shirt half unbuttoned.
I remember how it was waking up next to him. The way he was nestled against me. The weight of his arm thrown over my hip.
I want to wake up like that again.
I am a strong, desirable woman, and any man would be lucky to have me.
I haul back and chuck those handcuffs at him, really doing my fourth-grade PE teacher proud.
They bounce off his chest, and he catches them.
“What the hell? Did you just throw handcuffs at me?” He takes a menacing step toward me.
“Yes, Daddy.” I do my best sexy baby pose. “Because I want you to tie me up and treat me like your sex doll.”
“You—” He can’t even get the words out.
I pull out the ball gag.
“I know what your kink is,” I taunt him.
He slaps it out of my hand, and it bounces to the floor.
My eyes widen.
“I’m not doing that with you.”
“Why?” I’m not ready to give up. I use the breathy voice Gran made me practice while we were waiting for the Uber. “Did you know I’m not wearing any panties? I came over here as a present just for you.”
I see it in his eyes then—the flash of desire, the way his nostrils flare, the way he shifts his weight, sizing me up.
He reaches out.
I brace for the weight of his hand on my waist, the vise of his grip on my neck.
I want his hand on my throat while he fucks me.
My thighs are coated as I shift my legs, feeling uncomfortably warm and achy.
But he doesn’t touch me.
He presses the down button.
“Go home, Dani.”
“No… wait… um… God, what was my line?”
He’s scowling at me now.
“Just wait…” I dig through my purse, which is basically a bucket.
“Hah!” I pull out the dildo and brandish it.
“If you don’t want me, that’s okay. I’ll just stand here and get myself off, because my pussy is craving a cock, and—” I struggle with the packaging.
“Why are these things so hard to open? What if you have arthritis? I should have brought a knife.”
I chew on the top of the plastic packaging, trying to tear it open.
“Do you have a knife?” I ask him. “Also some ginger ale? I feel a little nauseous.”
Vroom! Somehow I hit the on button on the dildo. It jumps in my hands and bangs me on the chin.
“Ow!” I yelp, and of course then the clamshell package opens.
The dildo swan-dives out of my hand and twitches on the floor like a dying squirrel.
My face burns as I scoop up all the sex toys that I do not—and never will—know how to use and try to stuff them back in my bag.
It’s humiliating.
Embarrassing.
I feel like I’ve never left middle school, like I’m still that dumb, awkward teenage girl who just wants the cute boy to like her the way he likes all her friends.
“You’re fucking pathetic.” The deep voice curls around the small marble-clad room.
“God, screw you.” I look up at his face.
Devoid of emotion.
Devoid of desire.
The only thing there is revulsion.
I start sobbing. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Clearly.” There’s no sympathy in the word.
I sniffle. “No, I mean, I never did it. You know. No man ever wanted me enough to do it.”
He takes a step back. “What are you saying?” he bellows.
“Stop shouting!” I scream at him. “I’m a virgin, okay?
There. Are you happy now? You can make fun of me.
I know I’m pathetic, okay? I’m just too chickenshit.
” I wipe my nose. “You know, I always thought I’d need some guy to tie me up and basically force me to have sex so that I’d lose the V-card…
I thought when you kidnapped me that I would… that you would—”
“You wanted me.” I can barely hear him as he whispers the words. “You wanted me to take you.”
“Yeah… I mean…” I lift my skirt to start wiping at my eyes.
Graham makes a strangled noise. Then I realize.
Right.
Crap.
No panties.
I shove the fabric back down.
“I mean, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you had, you know, in the closet—”
“You wanted me to pin you down on the floor and fuck you.” In a flash he shoves me and pins me against a wall. “Is that what you want?” He grabs my jaw, forcing me to look up at him through blurry eyes.
“Yeah.” I sniff. “You can do it now if you want.” I squirm against him. “You can have me however you want. Blow off some steam.” I twist my skirt. “I have a blindfold.”
“My trauma isn’t your sick fantasy.” He shoves me.
My back thumps against the wall.
“No! That’s not—” I cry, reaching for him. “That’s not what I’m doing. I wanted your sick fantasy to be my sick fantasy.”
His lips peel back, giving me a snarl of white teeth. “I’m not that person. I’m not that man. I’m not having sex with you.”
God. Fuck him.
“Fuck you! Fine. Then maybe I’ll just have your stepbrother take my V-card, since I’m just not good enough for you.”