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My vagina wakes up from her six-month nap and screams at me that though this man looks like the emotionally unavailable type with major control issues, she would very much like to be wrecked by him.
His tone gently mocking, he says, “I’ve been obsessed with you for years. I’ve watched you from afar, planning, scheming, waiting for exactly the right moment to make you mine. Now all my planning has paid off, and the moment is here.” His mysterious smile grows wider. “Hello, little lamb. Welcome to the lion’s den.”
“Telling a woman not to overthink something is as dangerous as telling her to calm down when she’s angry.”
“You’re something much better than beautiful. And when we’re married, I’ll tell you what it is.”
In no particular hurry, he swaggers toward us. Today, he’s in a deep blue suit that was probably handmade in Italy by a group of virgin monks and flown across the Atlantic on the back of a unicorn. His hair is perfectly combed. His beard is perfectly trimmed. His aura of sexual magnetism is perfectly devastating.
In a hot, dark voice, he says, “Because my wife asked me to. And I’ll give her anything she wants.”
“No. I don’t care what other women think of me. Because they’re not you.”
“You never have to be afraid of anything again. If you have a problem, I’ll fix it. If you need something, I’ll give it to you. If anyone bothers you, I’ll make them wish they hadn’t. Whatever you want or need, you tell me, and you’ll have it. You’re mine now.”
“Berries and cream,” he murmurs, slanting me a hot look. “Sounds yummy.” His gaze travels slowly down my body. When it settles between my thighs, he licks his lips and plucks a plump strawberry from the dish. “Spread your legs.” “Whatever you’re thinking of doing with that berry, you can forget it.” Holding my gaze, he deliberately places the strawberry into the V between my closed thighs. “Callum. I’m serious. I don’t want fruit stored in my vadge. It’s not Tupperware.”
“There are a million shades of gray between good and evil, love. Am I on the darker end of the spectrum? Yes. Am I a bad man who does good things or a good man who does bad things? Both. But you made this monster your slave. All of what I am, good and bad, light and dark, belongs to you.”
Not all happily-ever-afters are for white knights, darling. Sometimes the villain gets the girl. And isn’t that a much more interesting ending to the story? With all my black heart, Your monster
When liars like us fall in love, everything else falls apart. But, for now at least, we’re falling together.
