Page 33 of Morsel

My jaw clenches. Did he tuck her into bed like a princess? Why is he babying her like she’s some kind of fragile doll?

Does that irritate me because I’m jealous, or because I don’t understand why he’d waste his time like that?

He’s not into this like we are, and even if I try to teach him, he never will be. He’s a coward, and a coward can’t hunt a woman like a predator can.

A cigarette hangs from his mouth, the cherry burning like a single red eye.

“You’re not into sexual cannibalism,” I say.

“But I can appreciate it for her,” he says. “If Mona wants it, then I do it, you know? And it’s kind of hot, right?”

I laugh, the frustration flickering inside of me. Kind of hot. Go fuck yourself, Artemis.

I narrow my eyes like he’s disgusting scum clinging to the bottom of my boots. That loose leather jacket hangs on his frame now. He must think wearing animal skin makes him tough. I bet the leather is fake though, the fucking pussy.

I shudder. How can Mona like a wimp like him? Does she prefer men like him over me?

No. Of course not. She doesn’t. She can’t like men like him. That would give her too much power. Based on Mona’s personal ad and her request to fuck her like she’s my meat, I know she wants to be objectified. To be powerless. To be controlled.

And the idiot here asked her for her permission every single time.

“Why did you do that?” I ask.

A smirk dances on Artemis’s lips. “Do what?”

“Ask for permission every time you did something.”

“Did that bother you?”

“Of course it did. You sounded weak.”

Both of us are silent, our eyes locked on each other. Two animals circling, waiting for the weaker one to back down. The pressure in the air thickens as a realization dawns on me.

I’m a hypocrite. I’ve been waiting and giving Mona a chance to decide what she wants. She even cut her leg and bled for me, and I was the coward who ran away. I’m more like Artemis than I want to admit.

With me, it’s different though. Artemis is obedient to her every whim, and I’m only asking because I don’t want to scare her away. I want her to see everything I have to offer before she reaches her final decision about me.

“You do understand that we’re powerless, right?” Artemis says. “Mona knows exactly what she wants. She may enjoy being sexually submissive, but submissives are always in control. It doesn’t matter when or how, but she can revoke her consent at any time. All women can.”

My mind morphs, molding his words until they vibrate inside of my brain and take on new meaning.

She can revoke your power.

Your right over her body.

Your ownership.

You don’t deserve her.

I shake my head and force myself back to the present. “No,” I say.

“No?”

“She knows what I want too.” I rub my nose. “What we want.”

“Sure, but we?—”

I stop listening. He’s just like the sex workers, except he’s worse because he’s obviously using Mona for sex. He will never actually like sexual or romantic cannibalism like we do; he’s only doing it so he can fuck her.

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