Page 46 of Disgrace

“I mentioned something about your fantasy, and he asked for first refusal. He wouldn’t ask if he was already fucking you, now would he?” He counters my challenge with a knowing arched brow.

“I guess not.”

“So you’ve never had sex with him?” His hesitant tone belies his earlier certainty.

“No. I decided early on that I needed a friend so much more than I needed to get laid. I had nothing, no one, and I couldn’t risk losing him. Sex complicates things.” I sip the too sweet liqueur, Jason’s gaze is intense, but I don’t feel his questions are intrusive. I hate secrets, and I have nothing to hide when it comes to Leon. He’s my best friend.

“You never considered him boyfriend material?” His tone is sceptical, and I smile because I understand why.

“He’s very attractive, yes, and I adore him, but no. I love him as a friend. I know if it was a choice between sex and the other for him, there would be no contest.” I sniff out a laugh.

“The other?” He frowns.

“His sexual preference is for me to beat the shit out of him.” The need to sugar-coat is completely obsolete with Jason. I like that; it’s sort of refreshing.

“He’s a Dom!” His shock is a little surprising. Perhaps I did need to soften the truth with some obscure, flowery prose.

“Ninety nine percent of the time, yes.”

“He won’t go to anyone else?” His jaw tenses with the question.

“We’re working on that, but he’s very stubborn.”

Jason rolls his eyes. His response is curt, emphatic, irritation fixed in his narrow eyes. “No, he is smart. I wouldn’t want to give you up, either.”

“Care to find out what you’re missing out on?” I tease.

He laughs loudly. “Ah, I think we’ve established when that will happen, beautiful.” He takes my fingertips into his mouth and nips the tips. The waiter comes and refills out liqueur glasses.

“We did.” I smile at our impossible pact. “Jealousy hurts, and I don’t like the idea that I…” I stifle a laugh at the irony.

Jason finishes my sentence. “…that you are causing me pain?” He raises his brow but smiles. His hand cups my face, and I lean into his warm palm. “The only pain I can’t handle is the thought of losing you.”

“Wake up,” His deep sexy voice filters into my subconscious, but my body is too weary to respond. He seems determined to rouse me from my blissful sleep. We rested after our walking tour, then Jason took me to the most amazing restaurant high on the hill overlooking the city. Countless courses of exquisite food and too much wine left me almost fit to burst when we came home. Making love until the early hours did me in, and I am pretty sure I passed out with the last earth shattering orgasm Jason drew from my helpless body. I groan and resist my senses’ return to the land of the living.

“Wake up, beautiful.” His soft lips cover mine when I mumble my objection. He continues to pepper my face with a hundred kisses, and I finally giggle when I realise this is a battle I will not win. I like the fight all the same.

“If you want to fuck me, you didn’t have to wake me for that,” I grumble.

“Somnophilia is not my style.” He chuckles and I blink my eyes trying to focus on his face. It’s still dark outside, and I feel like I have been asleep for five minutes. I can’t focus to see the hands on my watch, and squinting at the clock on the bedside table hasn’t helped, because that is obviously wrong. It reads two thirty, which would mean I have been asleep for just twenty-five minutes. “You need to get dressed. Something black and wear the flat pumps you bought today. We need to be quiet.” He rolls off the bed, taking my covers with him. I squeal and try to grab the sheet before it completely vanishes, but I am nowhere near alert enough, since my reflexes are still napping.

“What time is it?” I close my eyes and instantly feel the pull of exhaustion. I start to curl onto my side when I am lifted with no effort at all and unceremoniously dumped onto my feet.

“It’s just after two thirty, and we don’t have much time.” His face is alight with mischievousness, but it’s too early to share his enthusiasm. I am not a morning person even if, technically, this feels like the middle of the night.

“Jason, I am tired; please let me sleep,” I whine.

“Sleep when you’re dead, beautiful. I want to show you something very special.” His smile is a delicious mix of seductive and excited. He looks like a kid in a toyshop, and that in itself makes me a little giddy, too. He is dressed in black jeans, a long, slim fitted, black, roll neck sweater and black trainers. He helps me into a similar outfit, his large hands pulling and tugging me into my clothes. His urgency makes me laugh.

“Where are we going?” I giggle when, from nowhere, he snaps a black beanie on my head. My hair hangs loose around my face, which causes a deep frown.

“Can you tuck your hair inside the hat?”

“Are we doing a bank job?” I snicker but start to tuck and fold my long hair into the hat.

“Maybe.” He winks and nods with satisfaction at my now tamed mane. “Let’s go.” He grabs my hand and practically drags me out of the apartment and down the stairs.

The night air is crisp and cool against my face. My breath forms light clouds with every exhale. I am grateful for the warmth of the hat, although I suspect that isn’t the reason I’m wearing it.

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