“Yeah but I never actually saw it, did I? ” she challenges coolly. “And since I don’t remember it clearly, I don’t want to commit to something disappointing or underwhelming, get me?”
Disappointing?
Underwhelming?
Almost as disrespectful as forgettable. She has to be rage-baiting me. There is quite literally no other explanation. She wants to see if I’ll flip out on her so that she can justify ending this before it starts because I got too emotional.
I stare at her and she stares right back.
Challenging me.
Fine, then.
I exhale sharply, mutter something about this being ridiculous but I don’t walk away and that’s the problem. I don’t walk away.
I’ll play along.
Slowly, I unbuckle. The sound of the zipper is louder than it should be in the quiet room.
Her eyes drop, not shy at all about evaluating me. I haven’t felt this exposed since the league mandatory physical. Except now I’m offering myself up to be violated willingly.
And that does something dangerous to my ego.
“Hm,” she hums softly. “Not bad.”
“Seriously?”
She doesn’t answer right away. She tilts her head slightly, like she’s studying art in a gallery.
“Turn.”
“Francine.”
“I wanna see the length.”
“I’m not a fucking show horse.”
The room goes tight.
Nothing.
She says nothing. She just stares at my dick.
“Did you hear me?”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Didyouhearme?”
“You know what?” I pull my jeans back up abruptly. “Forget it. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“What am I trying to do, big man?”
“You’re trying to humiliate me.”
“Oh?” She crosses her arms. “Why would I wanna do that?”
“Teach me humility? Get back at me for childhood trauma? Make me regret even coming over? The options are endless with you, Francine.”
Her expression flickers slightly.
