‘I want to come inside you next time. Nothing between us but skin. I want to keep you, Chastity.’
‘Mother, I have to go. I’ll call back soon.’ And just like that, she steps out of my arms, switching off her phone.
Gears start spinning in my head, her expression one I can’t make out. ‘What was all that about?’ I ask, gesturing to her phone.
‘My mother.’ She looks down at her phone, then shakes her head. ‘And I’m pretty sure that was my line.’
My expression clouds. She’s not dense, not by any stretch of the imagination. So I fall into default mode.
‘Well, it’s like this, duchess.’ I step into her, taking her reluctant hips in my hands. ‘When a man likes a girl, he kinda wants to... come inside her.’
‘Oh, you!’ She swats my arm. ‘Why can’t you be serious for just five seconds? Why must you always try to get on my last nerve?’
‘The short answer is ’cause it’s fun. The long answer is because, and I say again, I want to keep you.’
‘That!’ she exclaims, pointing her finger at me. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. Keep me? What am I? An ornament or a doll?’
‘I thought we already established the answer to this. Didn’t we already have this conversation?’ She frowns, though quickly swaps the expression for something a little more irate when I say, ‘You’re my little fuck doll.’ I probably shouldn’t, given the lethal weapons she has on her feet, but I laugh. Fuck, do I ever.
‘Flynn Phillips... Put your bastarding clothes on and g-get out of here!’
‘Okay, okay,’ I reply, all placating hand gestures as I back my way up to the chair.
‘Serves you right if I do load your clip to the website.’
‘Not my clip. It’s yours,’ I reply, slipping into my suit pants. ‘You gonna give me my shirt back? I’ll swap you for your undies,’ I might taunt.
Head held high, she makes her way to the desk, slipping her skirt on under my shirt. Back still turned to me, she slides the cotton off her shoulders, substituting it for her silk blouse. She swings on her heel, making her way back over to me.
‘Here.’ Arm stretched out like she can’t bear to be near me, she offers me my shirt from between her fingertips. ‘You can keep my knickers. Call them a reminder.’
‘Thanks, babe.’ I slide them into my pocket, then pull on my shirt. ‘I’ll add them to my collection.’ She makes a noise that’s a little like a growl. ‘You know, you’re a bit of a paradox,’ I say, buttoning my shirt.
‘I’m surprised you know what that word means.’
‘I’m not just a pretty face.’ Not by any means. ‘But you’re so open about a lot of shit, and I bet I could have a conversation with you about any kind of sex. Cuttlefish porn,’ I say, beginning to count off my fingers. ‘Female ejaculations; myth or fantasy? But, and this is a big but, the minute I pay you a compliment, I become a lying toad.’
‘I must attract them.’
‘That would be your swamp arse attitude!’ I half yell, half say across the room. I’m not angry—I’m rarely that—but I want her fucking attention.
‘Swamp arse?’ she asks with the greatest disdain. And then she starts laughing. Really laughing.
So I grab her. And I kiss her. And when we come up for breath, her eyes are smiling again.
‘Female ejaculation isn’t a myth,’ she says seriously. ‘I’ve seen it.’ I groan and mumble something about her teasing me. ‘And cuttlefish porn? Sorry, but I’m not a fan.’
‘Octopus, then?’
‘God, yes. I’m nothing if I’m not all about the tentacle,’ she says with a gurgling laugh.
‘Duchess, my tentacle is the only one you’re getting. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. Exclusive, all in.’
‘Flynn,’ she says, her eyes softening as she rests her hand on my cheek. ‘I haven’t had an orgasm by myself in six months. Do you really think I’m going to let you get away?’
