Every. Fuckin’. Button.
I wanted it again.
I was an addict, and he was my drug of choice. Or at least that was the way it felt to me. Reece talked about the passion he’d seen between us and about the fiery way we’d rubbed against each other when we argued. He’d said that every time we’d interacted, he’d expected an explosion. He just hadn’t been sure if it would be fireworks and passion, or a volcano.
As the final minutes counted down, I couldn’t decide which one I wanted it to be.
No matter how civil we’d been on the phone, I knew we couldn’t keep it up. Neither of us were calm enough to put up with shit, and one of us was bound to say something that set the other off. Even if it was offhand, it could easily get out of control.
No matter how sexy he was with that rough, stern demeanor, I wasn’t going to change myself for anyone. Elijah was bad enough…Eli wasn’t going back in the closet. Houston had said that Roman was probably just gun-shy after his last relationship had exploded. But I wasn’t confident enough in my ability to read Roman to be able to guess if that was it.
I knew on a rational level that his frustrations with his ex affected how he saw me and probably how he’d see future relationships, but I wasn’t sure how deep that went. I couldn't imagine having to behave all the time and watch what I said, always worrying about what he’d think or if I’d cross the line.
I wanted to cross the line.
I wanted to know that at some point he’d pull me across his lap and spank me again. I wanted him to get so frustrated, he’d shove me up against the wall and pound his cock into me because it was the only way he could think of to shut me up.
But not if he would end up hating me for it.
I had enough serious shit in my life; I needed the escape. Between school, work, the volunteer stuff that was important to me, and the insanity I had to put up with when it came to my family, Eli was my escape…my release valve.
Eli got to drive everyone crazy and prance around half-naked, knowing people were going to be drooling over the photos. Everyone needed a place in their life they could let their inner brat out, most people just didn’t have that safe space…I did.
And I wasn’t going to let him ruin it.
As I made one last lap around the living room and the kitchen, the doorbell finally rang. Forcing myself to walk at a reasonable pace, I was at the door in seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. I just wanted it over with. I didn’t have enough patience to draw things out like we were doing.
Roman was looking up at the house as I opened the door. He glanced back at me with an odd expression on his face. “Hi. Nice house.”
“Thanks.” I shrugged. “Come on in.”
Stepping back, I waved him in. “I set some stuff on the guest room bed for you to look at. I wasn’t sure what kinds of kinks and themes you were going to want to shoot.”
Focusing on the work let me push the fears and confusion to the back of my head, but it was unsettling and I didn’t like it. Roman either didn’t want to talk about all the shit that had gone on or wasn’t sure how to bring it up, because he simply nodded and walked in quietly.
When he finally spoke, it was in an even tone like a lawyer would use. “Thank you. I’d ideally like a variety of looks and fetishes so I can give people different styles to look at. You’re very expressive on camera, so I’m sure we can come up with different things.”
Okay, so a dirty lawyer.
“That makes sense, and thank you. I tried to pick out a few things, so let me know what works for you.” Heading back through the house, I led Roman to the rarely used guest room. Most of the time when I went out with friends, we ended up back at someone else’s place, so I hadn’t gotten that many overnight visitors.
Gesturing to the nearly blank room, I looked at Roman. “It’s fairly bland, but that probably works better than having it decorated all strangely.”
He gave a small smile. “Bland is better than a lot of decorating that I’ve seen. My grandma’s guest room had wallpaper with these big red cabbage roses on it. She was insanely proud of it, but it was so ugly you just couldn’t look at it.”
Grinning, I nodded. “I think everyone in that generation had questionable taste in wallpaper.”
Roman’s smile widened, and he tilted his head toward the bed. “Is that the stuff?”
“Yes.” Waving my hand at the pile, I tried not to be nervous, but it wasn’t working. “Check it out and let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to look for.”
I’d had guys over, so I knew it wasn’t someone invading my space that was making me nervous. I’d even been mostly naked in front of Roman countless times…when we were almost functional and then when we were screaming, so it couldn’t be the photos that were making me uncomfortable. But I wasn’t sure what it was.
Something about it just felt more personal.
As he looked at the collars and items that I’d gathered, I realized it was because he was seeing more of me. I’d known that the photos would revolve around me looking like a submissive for the camera, and that didn’t bother me. But that was my collar on the bed. Those were the clothes I’d picked out. They were my toys.
Nothing crazy or that screamed fuck me, but it was intimate in a way I hadn’t expected.
