Page 27 of Hitch
I bite my lip, heat swarming between my thighs. This is a bad idea, but it’smyidea. And I don’t want to stop myself.
I want to play in his danger.
The door swings open to the back of the building. My senses are on high alert, the adrenaline bouncing off of my skin like rain drops. In the bathroom, it’s the same as before—the light above the sink is dim, but the other two long strips of fluorescent fixtures are dark. Everything is layered with paint and pasted flyers from decades ago, like this used to be a cool place before it was inhabited by people like Duane.And me.I shuffle over to the stalls, my stomach churning with nerves and excitement.
No sane person goes to a glory hole like this. Especially not twice. The first time, you can almost understand why I did it. It was like I was proving to the world that a man could want me without even seeing me. That I could make a man lose control with my sexuality.
But now, knowing who’s in here with me? It’s ten times worse. Duane is probably a drug lord, and he may even be a killer.
And I’m the idiot following him into the darkness.
But still, I don’t leave. I check the stalls; the one I used last time is closed, but I can see a darker shadow breaking up the thin opening at the bottom of the door.
I don’t even know if it’s him, but I enter the other stall and get on my knees, my skin prickling with goose bumps, waiting for what comes through that hole.
But the person on the other side doesn’t move. My spine zaps with nerves, and I remember the second part of Duane’s instructions—
Tell me your darkest fantasy.
I lick my lips, then press my mouth against the hole like it’s a telephone I’m speaking into. This isn’t about me—it’s about fulfillingDuane’sdesires so that he pays me. That’s all I need to do right now.
“Let me make you come,” I say.
A low growl comes from the other side of the stall, like I’ve said the exact wrong thing. I quiver on my knees, blinking rapidly.
What am I supposed to say?
“Do you know how long I’ve been watching you, Regina?” he says, his voice so familiar by now that the tones twitch through me, flooding me with weakness. My birth name on his tongue is like a charge of electricity, zinging me down to my core. No one but my mom calls me that. It’s like he’s admitting that he’s obsessed with me, like he knows way more than I’ve ever told him.
“How do you know my real name?” I whisper.
“You act like you’re tough, like no man can bring you down, and maybe, in some ways, you’re right. But deep down, you know what you really want. You want to know that you matter. That a man can be brought to his knees with the overwhelming need to fuck you. You want to be dominated. You want to be forced to take every piece of pleasure and pain, just as much as I want to destroy you.”
His words take the air out of my lungs, deflating me. It’s like he sees so much deeper inside of me, parts that I keep hidden, even from myself. What womanwantsto be forced like that? She’d have to be insane. She’d have to be fucked in the head. She’d have to be—
Me.
As much as I hate it, it feels right to be seen like this. To be heard. To know that he wants what I want too.
I shift uncomfortably behind the stall, nerves banging my chest, need pooling between my legs.Damn it.I wish I could say it’s just for the money. It would be easier if it was just about sex. If I could fuck him like I let the Mortician finger-fuck me. If I could pretend to come like I did with my sugar daddy. If I could just get this over with. But it’s not that simple.
Duane sees me, and I can’t dismiss that like it’s nothing.
I keep listening for repositioning on the other side of the stall, to see if Duane is as unsure of himself as I am, but he stays still. So confident, it’s irritating.
And damn it, Iwantto show him this side of me.
“I want to be used,” I say. The words sound strange on my tongue, but they feel right too, admitting this part about myself. “Used like I’m a toy. Or an object. Both valuable and worthless, you know?” My words pick up speed as I continue: “Sometimes, I imagine two men fucking me at once. That I’m nothing more than their plaything, you know? Like a toy that they can’t help but want.”
It’s a daydream I’ve had for years, one that started with my sugar daddy. I used to imagine it was him and his identical twin—after all, he is a silver fox—but once I realized he would never touch me like that, the fantasy morphed into two strangers. How neither of them cared whether I liked it or not, only thatthey got off.How’d they’d do whatever it took to have me.
So, when I heard about the glory hole, I waited until my mom didn’t need the money for school. Then I told my sugar daddy where I was going, and he screamed at me through the house.
You leave, and we’re done. We have an exclusivity contract.
You’ll never make it without me. How will your mom pay for everything?
You walk out that door, and you can kiss her rent goodbye.
