Degradation (32 page)

“Prince Charming could never treat you as good as the devil,” he teased. She shrugged.

“Maybe not. But maybe so. What'll happen to you, if I'm ever so blessed to find this magical S&M Prince Charming?” she asked. He looked at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about that moment.

“Go back to hell. Find another succubus,” Jameson replied.

“Whoever she is, I hope she's as good as me,” she whispered.

“No will ever be as good as you, Tatum.”

Jameson watched Tate go home later that afternoon. She didn't come back for three days. Three hair raising, teeth grinding, skin clawing days. She had said she wanted to be with him. He was halfway tempted to go find her and drag her home by her hair, force her to keep her word. But for the first time since they had started sleeping together, Jameson didn't know if that would be welcome.

She turned up on her own, on a Wednesday night. Just strolled in to his library, like no time had passed. She kissed him on the cheek, then went upstairs to change her clothes. He didn't see her again for about an hour, and when he went to look for, she was in Sanders' room, playing chess. He felt left out, but he didn't want to intrude. He wound up laying in bed, staring at his ceiling, thinking about her.

“I looked for you downstairs,” her voice came from his doorway.

“I'm not there.”

“Ooohhh, there's a tone. Satan feeling especially devilish tonight?” Tate asked with a laugh, shutting the door behind her.

“No more than usual. How was the chess game?” he asked.

“Is that it? Sanders? I don't have to spend time with him,” she told him. Jameson hadn't looked away from the ceiling and she hadn't come in to his field of vision.

“I don't care. What have you been doing all week?” he questioned her. He felt the bed dip. She was sitting near his feet.

“Stuff. Just kinda moped around my apartment,” she answered.

“No more baseball players?” he asked with a smirk. She laughed.

“No. Truth? He was nothing compared to you,” her voice was low and husky. She had come to play.

Am I game?

“Nice words. The question is whether or not I believe you,” he said. She laughed again.

“I don't really care whether or not you believe me. If you don't want me sleeping with other people, just say so,” she told him. He paused.

“Was he any good at all?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How good?”

“Not as good as you. Not as good as Ang. But pretty good. I wouldn't say no to seconds,” she replied.

“Did you come?”

“Twice.”

“Where did you fuck him?”

“The bar.”

“In the bar? Wow, Tate. I'm missing out.”

“I know. And in the back bar, on a pool table.”

“Hot.”

“I think I scared him a little, but he liked it.”

“I know the feeling,” Jameson laughed. Her hand rested on his leg.

“I could never scare you,” she whispered.

“You scare me right now,” he replied.

Suddenly she was crawling up his body. Her knees came to a rest on either side of his hips and he rested his hands on her thighs. Her hands were flat against his chest, pushing herself upright.

“Don't be ridiculous, it doesn't suit you. He wasn't exactly a take charge kind of guy, I had to lead the way,” Tate continued with her story.

“Sounds like a pussy,” Jameson commented, laughing. She shrugged.

“Just different. Sometimes it's fun to be in charge,” she told him. He stopped laughing.

“Do you want to tell me what to do? Take the lead here?” he asked. She chuckled, a dark sound, and suddenly she was leaning close, her teeth against his neck.

“No. You're so good at it,” she breathed. He clenched his fingers, digging them in to her thighs.

“This isn't very interesting. Little man, so scared of the big bad wolf that you had to hold his hand to help you get off. We should just stick to my stories,” Jameson taunted.

“Hmmm, maybe it wasn't about all that. It was a change up. Someone treating me nicely, like I was a nice, normal girl,” she tried to explain.

“Nice, normal girls don't fuck baseball players in the backs of bars,” he pointed out.

“
Maybe they do.
He
thought one did,” she whispered.

Well this is new.

“If that's what you want, then you better call your baseball player. I don't want a nice, normal girl. I want a girl who likes to be knocked down and dragged around. A girl who wants to be smacked around and called a whore. I want a girl who will let me fuck
other girls
, and then get so turned on by that fact, that she'll blow me while we're driving down a highway doing seventy-five,” Jameson snapped.

True story.

“Sounds like a pretty hot girl,” she commented.

“Hottest girl I know.”

She was kissing him, suddenly, her tongue pressing against his lips. He grabbed her by the head and leaned forward, kissing her back. It felt like it had been a long time since he had tasted her mouth. He missed it. She gasped against him and her fingers flew to his shirt. She got about half of his buttons undone, and then she just ripped the shirt open before moving onto his belt buckle.

Three days was a long time.

“Fuck anyone else while you were gone? Engineers? Fast food workers? Doctors?” he asked while she yanked his pants down his legs.

“Not that I can think of, but ask me later, something might come back while you're nailing me to the mattress,” she replied casually. He grabbed her hair and dragged her back up his length.

“You better not think of
anyone else
but me,” he growled. He could practically feel her eye roll.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He thought maybe she'd want to go slow. Not that Tate had ever been a slow kind of girl, but she had been really upset the last time he'd seen her. They hadn't had sex in four days. Three days ago he told her he would never want her as anything more than a fuck buddy. She hadn't spoken to him again until that night, and even then, she had spent most of the night with Sanders.

But if her actions were anything to go by, she was fired up and ready to go, even more so than normal. She was either making up for lost time, or punishing herself. Or him. Somebody was getting hurt.

She yanked all of their clothes off, her nails scratching sensitive skin. She went down on him, no-holds-barred, just immediately deep throated him. He thought she was going to make him come that way, but then she was moving again. Crawling on top of him, pulling him forward, wrapping her legs around his waist. They moved together, hips pushing at each other, and she got louder, pressing her forehead to his while her nails dug in to the back of his neck.

“I want you to do it,” Tate panted. He was gripping her hips so hard, he knew there would be bruises.

“I think I am,” Jameson managed to chuckle.

“
Hit me,
” she breathed. He glared at her.

“No,” he replied. She laughed.

“You're denying me?” she asked.

“Cause I don't think you really want it.”

“Oh,
I want it
.”

“You're punishing yourself. I don't want to hurt you,” he told her. She shook her head.

“You can't hurt me. I
want
to be punished.
Please,
” she begged.

“You're angry at me. I'm not doing something just so you can hold it against me later,” he snapped.

“
I'm not her.
”

He was suddenly very angry.

“Don't fucking talk about her,” he swore, halting his movements, leaving her impaled on his length.

“
Oh,
that
makes you angry? You talk about every other girl you fuck. Why don't you talk about her? She must have been pretty special to you, Kane,” she said in an evil voice, rotating her hips against his. “
Pretty special.
An amazing fuck, you said. Was she
tight
like me? Did she get
wet
like me?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Tate,” he warned.

“Two years, she
must
have been pretty amazing. Do you want to pour hot candle wax on me? Whip me? Paddle me?” Tate asked, letting her head drop back.

God, this woman. If my dick gets any harder, it's gonna kill one of us.

“
I want to scar you,
” he groaned.

“Hit me.”

“No.”

“
This is what I want, Jameson. I want you to do whatever you want. I want to be able to do whatever I want.
I'm not her
. Just let go,” she urged.

“I can't,” he whispered. She smirked down at him, her hips slowing their movements.

“Fine. If you won't do it, I'll find someone who will,” she snapped. He glared again.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” he snapped back. She shook her head.

“
Make me
. Ang likes to play, and I trust him. Maybe he'll do it,” she taunted.

“
Stupid bitch,
you better shut the fuck up,” Jameson growled.

“
I'm sure there are lots of guys out there who would do it for me. Some random guy, in a hotel room somewhere. I'll pretend to be that nice, normal girl. Let some guy think he picked up a sweet girl, and then I'll let him fuck me. Fuck me
hard;
harder than this,
harder than you,
” she told him.

He slapped her across the face, and the response was instantaneous. She cried out and her pussy clamped down so hard on his dick, he almost came right then and there.
Holy shit.
He moved fast, slammed her down onto the mattress and then got up onto his knees, holding her hips up while he pumped in to her.

“
Goddammit, Tate. Not every fucking thing is about you. I didn't want to fucking do that,
you
stupid fucking whore
.
Fucking bitch,
” he swore, slamming against her hips as hard as he could. She was shrieking.

“
God, it was so good, please say it was so good, it was so good,
so good,
” she panted. He slapped her again and it drove her wild, caused her to trash and buck underneath him.

It drives
me
wild.

“
Fucking hell, Tate. I'm going to fuck you every night from now on, for as long as I can.
Cunt. Whore
. Fuck.
Why are you so fucking good to me?
” he moaned, grabbing one of her legs and resting it against his shoulder. He grabbed her hand, placed it at her wet core, forced her fingers in and around herself. She was like his marionette, his own personal fuck doll.

“Because ..., you're the devil. You need someone to be with. I want to be that person,” she gasped.

“Goddamn, do you let everyone treat you like such a slut?” he said, feeling the sweat pour down his body. He grabbed her ankle, held her leg out away from her body so he could get even deeper inside of her. He wanted to reach places no one had ever been before; places no one else would ever reach again. She suddenly laughed, a low, dark sound.

“You like to think you're the only one, don't you? That you're the only one who fucks me good,” she replied.

“I
know
I am.”

“Then why am I thinking about a baseball player right now?”

He slapped her across the face, hard, and then grabbed her neck. She started coming, crying out and dragging her nails down his chest. He wasn't far behind her, pumping everything he had in to her before collapsing on top of her chest.

It was a couple minutes before his brain could function again, wrap around what they had just done. He knew he should check on her, make sure she was okay, that what they had just done was actually okay. He pushed himself up over her, but instead of saying kind words, he grabbed her wrists instead, pinned them above her head. Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. She looked almost stoned. Satisfied. Glowing.
Happy
.

“Were you really thinking of him?” he demanded. She chuckled.

“Jameson, when you fuck me ...,
nothing else exists but you,
” she breathed. He leaned down, baring his fangs against her neck.

“Good,” he whispered. She let out a groan.

“That was so good, Jameson. That is officially, without a doubt,
the best sex I've ever had,
” she said with a laugh.

“
Better than
Angier
fucking you in a filthy alley?” he asked. She laughed harder.

“Stupid man. I lied. You were always the best sex I ever had, I just didn't want to admit it,” she laughed.

“
I knew it.
”

He kissed her then. A long, slow kiss. He stretched out on top of her, inside of her. Ran his hands from her head to her thighs, and back up again. She breathed in to his mouth, moaned his name, scratched her nails down his back. He started to get hard again, and he backed away. Rolled her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up. A couple minutes later, he laid down flat, pulled her on top of him. Then pushed her off, made her fuck herself for a little while before diving back inside of her.