“No,” she answers casually.
I wonder what really fazes her, what gets under her skin and makes her scream. I really want to find out.
“Arlo.”
“Yes, Cora?”
“I think you should kiss me.”
“I think I should wait until you’re sober,” I reply because I want her to remember it.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Then she leans in, and before I can stop her, her lips are touching mine. I clench the beads in my lap, resisting the urge to touch her, grab her, and pull her onto my lap. My other hand, though, has a mind of its own and lifts to thread through her hair, pulling her closer.
She tastes so sweet, and I know it’s not just because of the wine she’s been drinking all night. It’s just her. She parts her lips, and her tongue touches mine. A low growl erupts from my throat as I grip her hair a little bit harder. She doesn’t back up. Instead, she deepens our kiss, and I feel her moving closer to me before there’s a nip of pain on my lip. She has bitten me so hard she’s drawn blood, and my cock hardens even more as I pull back to see the look of satisfaction on her face, especially when her tongue slides along her bottom lip, savoring every drop of me.
One thing I will not do is fuck a woman while she’s intoxicated. I may be fucked up in a lot of ways, but that’s not one of them. I want her to be acutely aware of every inch of her I touch. And she can’t do that if her head is cloudy from all the alcohol she’s consumed. She stares back at me with swollen lips that I know would look amazing wrapped around my cock.
“Good night, Arlo.” Her words come out breathless and sultry.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow,” I remind her.
She chuckles as she stands on unsteady legs and then heads for the door.
I wave over the server and point to her. “Be sure she gets in a cab safely.”
The server nods and follows her out.
I clench the beads in my hand, imagining the way they’ll look wrapped around her throat—how she’ll let me choke her with them, surrendering every breath to me.
The thought alone makes my pulse thrum.
One day, she’ll beg for it.
And when she does, I’ll leave my marks—deep and unmistakable—so every inch of her knows exactly who she belongs to.
ELEVEN
CORA
My head hurts.
That’s the first thing I think when I wake up.
I pop some Tylenol, then manage to get dressed and ready for the day. The dementia facility where Mom is has asked me to stop in today to sign some paperwork. She’s getting a little worse every day, and a different care plan has been put in place for her. I think it’s part of the reason I drank so much last night because coping with losing her while she’s still alive is so fucking hard.
And then I remember that kiss with Arlo. What was I fucking thinking? I know not to mix business with pleasure, and I did it with a man who is already cockier than necessary. Did I inflate his ego by kissing him in public? I can’t think about him and the way he kissed me right now because even through my hangover, I’m pretty sure it was the best kiss I’ve ever experienced.
And his beads, those beads he uses to fuck other women while he chokes them… why does that not turn me off of him? It should. I’ve never done something like that before, but the thought of them wrapped tightly around my neck as they dig into my skin sits on my mind.
I get in the car and receive a notification that the paperwork was sent to Arlo, who then refused it.
Of course he did.
The weekend can’t come soon enough.
This week has been a damn shit show, and it’s only early.
When I arrive at the facility, I make sure to go and say hello to my mother first thing, and today is a good day because she offers me a smile. I give her a kiss on the cheek, and she pulls back and stares up at me. I tell her I won’t be able to pop in for the next week, and she looks confused and doesn’t respond. I take a bar of white chocolate out of my bag and leave it on her bedside table before kissing her goodbye.
