Chapter Eight #2
Alex’s sigh came with a stale smile. “I was in a bad place, about two years ago. You could argue I was a sex addict, though that paled to a lot of my other addictions. I hit rock bottom and decided I needed to change. So, I wiped the slate clean. No more sex, no alcohol, no drugs—that’s about when I joined Chiara at the gym.
She pulled me out of my funk. I owe everything to her. ”
“How do you know her?”
“Long story, but she used to work for my mother.”
“As what—a bodyguard?”
I meant it as a joke, but Alex nodded.
“And she doesn’t like me?” I added, unable to help my grimace.
“She doesn’t know you. But she knows who I used to be and the kinds of women I used to surround myself with. You’ll show her you’re different just by being yourself.”
“Pressure’s on then,” I muttered.
The waitress returned, holding a platter with our respective pastries and drinks.
I had to admit the iced nonsense smelled delightful, filled with autumn vibes, and whatever pastry she’d ordered for me leaked chocolate at the seams. “You’ve won me over,” I said, and her demeanor was far sweeter as she sipped her own iced latte—plain, but that was better than the abomination.
“I just feel like,” Alex said, “hot drinks are for morning, and iced drinks are for afternoon.”
“That’s certainly an opinion you have.” I took a drink, disappointed to find it was a sensory delight and absolutely delicious. “Though if this is your standard for iced drinks, I see why you have it.”
Alex kept her chill demeanor. “I don’t have entirely abominable tastes.”
“I suppose not, though I suspect they measure the amount of sugar in their drinks in cups.”
Alex chuckled. “So, you know a little more about me. What’s something I don’t know about you?”
“You set the bar pretty high for trauma,” I said, though my stomach unwillingly clenched.
“You don’t have to share anything traumatic.”
“Well, I obviously have none anyway,” I said, like a liar, but my facetious tone was enough to convey that much.
“I guess one of my good traits is that I don’t drink.
Mom kicked my sperm donor out over that.
Apparently, he drove home drunk with me in the car, though I was too young to remember.
Haven’t seen him since. Turns out, trauma can lead to healthy habits sometimes. ”
“Guess so,” Alex replied, but it was clear she was uncomfortable.
I had to even this out somehow. “I certainly make up for it in different ways. The fact that I even know someone like Cliff is a symptom of that.”
“You said he wasn’t your boyfriend, so I figured it wasn’t my business beyond that.” She shrugged with an asshole smirk. “Bet my body count’s higher than yours.”
“I’ll have you know that I don’t even know my body count.”
“Joke’s on you, because I don’t either. I just know it’s higher.”
“You just know?”
“I just know.”
“All right,” I said, the trophy still mine to take even without divulging the shit I really didn’t want to get into.
“Well, I already told you I was disowned by my mom’s family when I got a girlfriend.
What you don’t know is they outed me to my dad’s side, which is how I found out my dad was still alive because he wrote me a whole manifesto about how it wasn’t too late to disavow my ‘lifestyle’ and give my life to God, like he had. ”
“That’s a good one,” Alex retorted, “but I was outed on live TV by my mother when I was thirteen because she talked at a press conference, at the White House, about how she’d found lesbian porn on my phone to boost support for some internet law about minors.”
I narrowed my gaze, the sardonic humor of it all not escaping me. “Despite all that, I still haven’t seen my dad.”
“My mom disowned me two years ago and cut me off from the family fortune.”
“You still have, like, a billion dollars.”
“Hardly.” Alex took a sip, something cheeky in her grin. “Just a few million. But, if I hadn’t invested as young as I did, I’d be homeless.”
“Well, Mom had to foreclose on our house because she couldn’t afford childcare and a mortgage.”
“That…sucks, and I’m sorry that happened. Can’t relate. You win.”
The timing of when Alex got cut off and gave up her vices couldn’t be overlooked. Had there been an incident? We’d only spoken of trauma in the most clinical of terms, but perhaps it was for the best that she hadn’t elaborated, given I didn’t intend to reciprocate. “What’s my prize?”
“Hopefully therapy.”
Levity lit her gaze, but I had to force my laugh. “I did get some court-funded therapy for a bit, but the money only went so far.”
Dammit. These were not statements I wanted follow-up questions on.
“So, I dropped out of college instead,” I continued, forcing myself to ramble. “But it’s not like astronomy would have paid much of the bills, so maybe losing my scholarship was cheaper in the end. I dunno.”
Alex just looked confused. “You were an astrology major?”
“Astronomy. Not astrology. I don’t need to know your birth time to read you to filth, Alex.”
“No, you do not,” she replied, chuckling. “So like, planets and stars, right?”
“Pretty much. I’ve just always loved the stars, and I love the mystery of not knowing what’s all out there.”
“Do you have a favorite constellation?”
“Monoceros. Unicorns were my favorite animal because my mom forgot to tell me at an age-appropriate point in time that they were fake. I was eleven when a teacher finally pulled me aside.” I took a loud sip of my drink. “Broke my heart.”
“I’m hurt on your behalf.”
“Thank you,” I replied, hoping my dramatic batting eyelids aided my flippant tone. “I don’t think a horned horse is that difficult of an ask anyway.”
“It’s really just a mutant goat.”
I made a show of glowering. “Take it back.”
Alex shook her head. I laughed, and all remained light.
We stayed for about an hour, laughing about nothing.
It was so easy with her. Perhaps as easy as it had been with El.
When I started getting antsy, she escorted me back to the car, nearly possessive with how she kept a hand on my back.
I could nearly admit that I liked it—that, and the dark glint in her eye.
She opened my door, even helped me settle in my seat.
Yet she hesitated by my side. “Earlier, you said ‘dirty and degrading’. Is that what you want, or is that just what you’re used to? ”
Read me to filth, why doesn’t she? My glare wasn’t entirely facetious. “You’re very sweet, Alexandria Winthrop. Maybe it’s just both. I dare you to shock me.”
Alex leaned in closer. “Look, I’m not trying to kill the mood. I just don’t want to offend you or make you feel like a whore or something. I like you. I don’t want to shock you, but I’ve paid hookers to piss on me, so—”
My burst of laughter paused her words. Dammit, of course I thought of that awful snuff image, but she was so serious and so damn sweet.
I didn’t stop until she joined me. “I’m sorry,” I said, warding away the threat of tears amid my fit. “I just didn’t expect that.”
“But you see why I want to make sure we have the same definition of what’s actually degrading but still hot.”
I couldn’t quite quell my laughter. “Do you want me to piss on you?”
A teasing lilt filled her words. “That feels like a third date question.”
“Okay, don’t try to shock me, but you can rough me up a little. If you’re a dick, I’ll be a dick back.” I beckoned her near, an odd, empowering realization filling me. “I think I’d even like it from you.”
“Cool, but tell me if I go too far.”
“I will.”
“Will you?”
Again, she was on to me. The internet had called it ‘fawning’, but I called it ‘survival.’ Not with Alex, though; not what that sincerity in her gaze. “I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Princess,” she said with a wink, then finally she shut the door.
When she came around to sit in her seat, she turned on the engine, then paused. “So—”
“So,” I interrupted, “is ‘sucking your dick’ the correct terminology when we’re talking about a butch packing a strap-on, or am I being insensitive? Is that even something people do?”
It was both a come-on and a way to tiptoe past any faux pas. Win, win. Alex, for her part, looked quite pleased. “You can call it whatever the hell you want, and yes.”
Curiosity drove me nearly as much as lust as I reached over to caress the bump in her trousers once more. Naturally, this brought me nearer to her face, yet I gasped when her lips suddenly stole mine.
Oh, I could have kissed her for hours and never gotten bored, her gentle motions luring me like a child to a firefly.
But then I heard the zip of her pants, and the innocence abruptly ended when she led my hand to the phallic shape now protruding from her crotch.
It was that velvety sort of silicone, clearly high quality and malleable in my grasp, a nice change from the cheap rubber I’d been fucked with in the past—and at least once had done the fucking, but I knew what I preferred.
Credit where it was due—it was also impressively large. I grinned against her lips. “So, you’re a show-er, not a grow-er.”
Her laughter invigorated me, and when I began pumping it in my hand, her slight hum stirred fresh heat inside my core. I left her lips, eyelashes batting. “So does this actually feel good or…?”
“I mean, I can’t feel it the same way, but when you do shit like that, it does rub against me.” Mischief raised her eyebrow as her hand tenderly stroked through my hair, then directed my head into her lap. “Also, it’s hot as hell.”
Despite her arousal, my analytical brain was hard at work.
The key difference here was that the motions were more important than whatever I did with my lips or tongue, unless it was for show, but while this would certainly already fall under the legal definition of distracted driving, encouraging Alex to watch was, unfortunately, certainly a safety hazard.