Page 8 of Grave Secrets

“Because you are nosy,” he says with a frown, making me laugh. “I don’t know, honestly. You definitely know how to piss a man off, though.”

“So I’ve been told,” I say sweetly. “How do you feel about having to see me six days a week?”

“It will be a nice break, honestly,” he says.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“...maybe…”

“I don’t think you have anger management issues,” I say. “You obviously find it important to appear bulletproof, and I just challenged that. You yelled, but it wasn’t at me. You tried to intimidate me, but guilt hit you before you could even get that far… I think you just need to relax.”

“Are you going to help me relax, Ada?” he asks.

“What is your idea of relaxing?” I ask seriously.

“Having a pretty girl on my cock begging for mercy,” he says. “Consensually, of course.”

“I find it interesting that you specified consent,” I say.

“Well, you are in a building alone with me. I am blocking your only exit, and I could very easily overpower you,” he remarks. “Although I could have you lying on that couch with that pretty ass in the air while I fuck you, I figured you might appreciate knowing that consent does matter to me.”

I have so many things I can say that would keep this therapeutic, but I just stare at him instead. His smirk grows into a grin, and the longer he stares at me, the hotter my face gets. He is seeing how long it will take before I submit and look away. I feel like crawling out of my skin. It doesn’t feel natural staring him down like this.

“Have you always been hypersexual?” I ask.

“Do you always get this flustered when a man challenges your dominance?” he asks.

“Why do you keep deflecting?”

“Okay,” he says, still smiling. Fuck, he has a nice smile, too. “I have used sex as an outlet for stress for a long time. I have a gift for being able to get any woman to sleep with me.”

“So you don’t like being told no,” I say.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “There will always be another that will say yes.”

“And when they do?” I ask.

“Are you asking me how I fuck them, Ada?” he asks, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Usually hard and rough. They will often come hard enough to make them detach from reality.”

“You are very confident in yourself,” I say, trying not to fucking drool all over the place.

“I am confident that if my cock can’t make her come, my mouth will,” he says. “There is nothing better than a thick and delicious woman sitting on my face.”

I really should tell him this is becoming inappropriate, but I think he is doing this for a reason. He’s trying to gain my trust by showing restraint, but it’s a show. Is he compensating, or is he just that vulgar? Maybe both.

“Can I ask you something?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say.

“Why did you lie to Andre?” he asks. “I’m confused why you want me to be honest, but you aren’t.”

“Because my personal life is none of his concern,” I say. “He will dig and make things worse.”

“That sounds like…”

“Vik,” I say with a warning.

“It sounds like you are scared of something,” he says anyway.