Page 33 of His Property

Mae rolls toward me and puts her hand on my chest. I feel like I should swipe it off, but I leave it. Maybe thisisthe aftercare.

“I don’t know.” Mae traces circles with her nails. “What have you done in the past?”

I huff and turn my head to look her in the eyes. “Seriously?”

She nods.

“I’ve never done this before. Trust me, you’re overestimating my presence in the BDSM community. I found a girl who liked to be spanked, had a mediocre orgasm, then left.”

She narrows her eyes in confusion. “They were okay with that?”

“No.” I chuckle. “I haven’t had a single repeat customer.” I wink and chuckle again, but Mae doesn’t look the least bit amused.

“Why not just fake it?”

“Fake what?”

“Fake caring. If you had built someone’s trust, you could’ve gone a lot farther with them.”

She has a point there. I never knew women like Mae existed, but if I had, maybe I would’ve done a better job at finding someone more open to my kink.

I dismiss the idea. That sounds like an immense amount of work and time away from my other responsibilities. Anyway, I wasn’t built for a partner. Anyone who knows me could attest to that.

I consider Mae’s question, and several seconds pass before I come up with an answer.

“Because I’m fake in every other area of my life. I don’t have the patience to fake my sexuality too. It’s the only time I get to be the real me.”

Well, then and when I have someone in my workshop. But if you asked a psychologist, they would probably suggest even that is a sexual release.

She nods like she understands, and I’m sure she does. We’re two sides of the same coin.

“I’m hungry,” she says, shifting to rest her arm on me. “And I need a shower.”

I lift up to look over at the Chinese food I left on the bench. “Gotcha covered.” I climb off the bed and go retrieve the container. When I bring it to Mae, she sits up and takes it hesitantly, wrinkling her nose.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

She rests the container in her lap, pulls off her hair tie that’s only holding half her hair by this point, and she redoes a bun.

“I can’t let you take a shower right now, but maybe tonight.”

“I figured.” She takes a bite of cold orange chicken and rests her hand holding chopsticks in her lap. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the girlfriend.”

“Do I seem like the girlfriend type?” I ask, an amused smile on my face.

She hums and pretends to think for a moment. “No… Mother then? You do give off a Norman Bates vibe.”

I laugh but don’t answer her. I don’t want her to keep guessing.

“Is she dead yet, or are you still in the second season?”

I raise a brow. “What?”

Mae smiles and picks at the food. “You’re telling me you’ve seenFifty Shades of Grey, but notBates Motel?”

I shrug, and she takes another bite of food.

After she swallows, she continues pushing into dangerous territory. “It’s weird that you’d watchFifty Shadeswith your mom, though, so maybe I’m wrong.” She glances at me and raises her brows. “Then again, who knows what all you’re into?”

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