Page 49 of Enforcing the Rules

The bottle she held up was white. I wasn’t much for wine, but it seemed appropriate. “Sure.”

I strolled over to the living area and flicked on the television. I was ready to take this to the bedroom, but I’d learned over the years the first time a woman takes me to her place, she liked to take some time before we went right to the bedroom.

A commercial came on, and I pointed to the screen. “Your crush is on tv.”

Kate strolled over with two long-stemmed glasses and passed me one, tucking her leg under her as she sat next to me. Johnny Depp was digging a hole in the desert at dusk and burying his jewelry. The commercial was for some man’s cologne. I didn’t quite get the symbolism, but it was a cool commercial.

“I do love him.” She sipped her wine and grinned.

“I knew it. You’ve got a thing for bad boys.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll be your pirate, babe. Yo ho, me hardies. Yo ho.”

She giggled, then sobered. “I have a confession to make.”

I’d lived long enough to know those words could be a double-barrel shotgun. “Yeah? What’s that?”

She set her glass down and took my hand. I did the same and followed her. She led me to the windows off the kitchen facing the alley. She unlocked one, lifted it, and stepped outside onto the shaky iron landing of the fire escape. I followed.

“One night when I first moved in here about a year ago, it was hot, and I climbed out here to sit and cool off. I remember it was a Thursday night. Motorcycles had been up and down the street all evening, and the music blared from the bar across the alley.

I looked over. It was Mudflaps. The guys and I stopped in there occasionally.

“There’s the backdoor to the bar.”

I knew it was there. I’d been outside it before.

“As I sat quietly, a man led a woman outside and leaned his back against that wall there in the shadows. It was a full moon, and they were lit in pale gray light. She wore a red dress, and he had a biker cut on.”

It was me. I knew in that moment, and staring into her eyes, she knew as well.

“Tell me what you saw,” I pushed, challenging to see if she would.

“He undid his belt and opened his jeans, and she dropped to her knees in front of him. His hand wrapped around her hair, tugging her head back.”

Hearing Kate narrate that scene was hotter than what had actually happened with the woman I barely remembered and didn’t give a damn about.

“She sucked him, and he fucked her mouth. Hard and deep until she even choked a little. With his hands tight in her hair, it was obvious he was in control of how fast or slow they went and how much she took.”

“And?”

“She took everything he gave. I could hear her moans.”

“Did she seem like she was being forced?”

“No.” She shook her head and met my eyes. “She liked it. I stayed quiet, not making a sound, and watched every second. I imagined myself in her place, sucking that man off, bringing him pleasure.”

“Did you?”

“That was you, wasn’t it?”

I looked over to the spot and nodded, remembering bits and pieces. She’d been enthusiastic, and she’d gotten me off, but it was far from memorable and probably didn’t even make the top ten best sexual experiences I’d had. I turned to Kate, but she was staring at the alley. “Kate. Look at me.”

She didn’t respond, so I grasped her chin. “She meant nothing. Maybe that’s an asshole thing to say, but it’s true. None of the women in my past have meant anything to me. Until you. You’re the first woman I’ve met I give a damn about.”

She turned and walked inside. I followed, getting the feeling the night was ending before it had a chance to start.

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