“That’s not nice,” I whisper, his words hurting me.
“You’re too pretty.Women are usually bitches, they don’t like competition.
“Women are bitches?”
“Most of the time,” he says.
“You don’t sound like you like women very much for a man who admittedly has bangeda lotof them.”
“You don’t have to like someone to fuck them, Rory,” he says and admittedly this is true, but I’m not really digging how that makes me feel either.
“If you didn’t, then why would you bother?”
“You saying you’d never fuck someone if it meant you’d get compensation out of it?”
“I’m assuming you mean other than orgasms?”
“You’re assuming right.”
“No.”
“I think everyone would,” he shrugs, sounding so jaded it’s almost painful.
“I wouldn’t,” I stubbornly argue, wondering how in the world we started this conversation.
“Maybe you just haven’t found your trigger yet,” he argues.
“My…trigger?”
“A reason why you would sleep with someone other than just enjoying the sex.”
“Love?”
“Get real, Gorgeous.”
“I’m getting that’s a negative,” I whisper, because the look on his face leaves no doubt that he’s not digging my response.
“A big ass one.”
“I take it you don’t think love exists?”I ask and for some reason that makes me sad.
“I know it does.I’ve seen it.Feel it for my son.I just know that shit is fucking rare and doesn’t happen that often.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I whisper.
“You love every man you fucked?”
“Can we call it something else besides, fucked?”
I’m practically pleading with him.I’m feeling uncomfortable here, and meanwhile he’s just sitting up, leaning back against the headboard like we’re discussing the weather.I sit up too and I make sure I have the sheet wrapped tight around me.This isn’t a conversation that you want to remain naked and exposed for.It hasn’t been from the first moment he opened his mouth.
“Call’em like I see’em, Rory.”
“Right,” I frown.
“I’m not always easy to take, but I’m always truthful, Gorgeous.”
“You are?”