Big Brother Billionaire (Part Two) (7 page)

I was calmer now that Ron was calmer, but I was no less confused.

“You…want me to let you threaten me? What kind of sex thing is that?”

Ron laughed suddenly, and I laughed with him, eagerly after hesitating a moment. I wanted this strangeness to be over and was intent on doing all I could to help it pass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, hiding his face with his hands. “I didn’t think, Parker. Jesus! You must think I’m an animal. I forgot that you don’t have much experience…of course this would be weird for you—scary, even.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I lied quickly. “I just didn’t understand what was happening. I mean…that’s a sex thing? Really? People being mean to each other is sexy?”

“Oh, baby,” he said, taking one of my hands and turning it over to kiss my palm. My wrists were still sore, and it was hard not to shrink away from him touching the area of my body in question again. “It’s not being mean, it’s being dominant. I thought maybe you’d be into it, especially with your act at the club.”

I blinked several times. My act at the club, my Parker persona…the only thing dominant about that was my penchant for black and aloofness. I wasn’t outright mean or aggressive toward anyone, not on stage and not in the seclusion of the private dance room. This situation didn’t make complete sense to me yet, but I was casting around for a way to end it and go back to my perfect life with the man I loved.

“I don’t really know anything about that,” I said. “My act at the club is just a mask. It was an easy thing to be when I felt insecure. If…if being dominant during sex is something you want to try…?”

Ron leaned forward and kissed my forehead gently. “You’re obviously not comfortable with it,” he pointed out. “It’s not a big deal for me. I just don’t want you to get tired of me, Parker. I want our relationship to stay fresh.”

“How could you think I’d ever get tired of you?” I asked, puzzled. “You’ve been everywhere and seen everything, more than I’ll probably ever see in my lifetime. You’re still a mystery to me, and I want to know everything about you. I’ll never get tired of you. Ever.”

Ron took my face in his hands and kissed me, soft and long. “I adore you, baby. Do you believe me?”

I nodded into the kiss, desperate for deeper contact, for moving on from the confusing awkwardness that had just transpired. I wanted things to be back to normal, but I just didn’t have the same desire as before. I’d been shocked and scared, and now my body had physically shut down.

Ron kissed me, fondled me, plied me with techniques that usually easily did the trick, and yet I couldn’t get there. He eased into me without me having to ask, jerked fruitlessly against my body, put my legs on his shoulders, and bent me double.

I wanted to come. I wanted to come for him, to show him I still loved him. I did. I did still love him. However, the truth was, I was too disturbed by his angry face and the way the skin between those startling blue eyes wrinkled in rage to even think about trusting him with my climax.

Ron finished with a grunt, the juncture of my legs becoming wet, and breathed hard against my neck, kissing it as he gradually got ahold of his faculties. It was the first time he’d ever climaxed without me doing the same. It felt like some kind of sad milestone in our relationship, and it made my eyes sting with tears for some reason.

It was reality informing me that my relationship with Ron wasn’t a fairy tale, that it wasn’t perfect, and that it was, perhaps, full of flaws.

“What is this?” he asked, cupping my cheek. “Are you crying?”

I shook my head, but there was no denying the solitary tear that oozed down my face.

“Did you…not like it?” Ron asked, studying me. “Gentle like that…it wasn’t good? Did you want it the other way?”

What could I say? What I wanted to do was go back in time to before he’d pulled that strange anger on me, maybe stop myself from demanding that he finish me off. I just wanted things to be like they were before he’d pinned me on the couch.

“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked, his own eyes filling with tears. I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst into tears and hugged him tightly.

“Can’t we just forget about it?” I sobbed. “Can we just pretend the mean thing never happened?”

“The dominant thing?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” I shuddered, as I clung to him. I never wanted to see that face on him again.

“Of course,” he said, smoothing my hair. “Poor thing. Your hair is a tangled mess. Let’s go take a shower. Wash everything off. Sound good? We’ll come out feeling fresh and just go to bed, start a new day tomorrow.”

That did sound good, and I slept like a baby in his arms.

I only wished I could’ve latched onto that night as a red flag, as a warning of what was to come, of who Ron really was. However, I was still relatively young, and I was stupid enough to think that this was just an odd little blip in my relationship with him, instead of a telling clue.

And I was probably too focused on this relationship, too invested in Ron as a way to forget about Marcus and everything else I’d wished my life would be.

~ To be continued ~

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