Page 84 of Wicked Player
Kind of, actually.
I study the four poster cage bed intently. It’s very imposing. Black silk scarves hang from the top bars, and there’s even a large old-fashioned lock on the end facing us.
This is definitely a sex room. This is a man who not only has a sex room, he has two. This makes me very wary, and suddenly I don’t want to do this anymore. In an instant, I’m filled with contempt for this man, and I can’t get out of the room fast enough. I pull from his grip, and run out as quickly as I can.
I retrace our steps to gather my top and pants. He nips at my heels, struggling to rein me back in, but he can never quite catch me. I scramble to find my purse, and when I do, I sprint up the stairs.
He finally grabs a hold of me as I’m nearing the coat room to fetch my shoes and jacket.
“Get off of me,” I scoff, and he quickly lets go.
He looks both confused and deeply hurt. “What the fuck, Clara?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” I say. “I can’t be another notch on your cage bedposts.”
“C’mon.”
I pull off my fuzzy socks, and throw them on the floor with more force than necessary. Stupid socks. I struggle to slip on my heels. Thankfully, they are slingbacks and relatively easy to slide on. “I can’t do this,” I tell him. “Not with someone like you.”
I go fetch my jacket, and head back to the main entrance.
He watches me leave, frozen, speechless. As I step outside and the chill hits me, it finally knocks some sense into me. Yes, I overreacted. I let the green monster take over. He never pretended to be anyone else. He is who he is, and I knew that going in.
I climb into my Jeep, heartbroken. I finally let it all out, and cry all over my steering wheel. If only I hadn’t fallen for a player. If only I hadn’t let myself get played. But he’s so damn good at it… so, so good. So good in fact, I think I might be falling in love with him.
