Page 33 of Damaged Beast
The agreement is good at least. I’m reasonably sure it would stand up in court, for the most part. I doubt the bed stuff can be enforced, but still. This contract ensures I get what I want from this relationship and protects me in case Prime changes his mind.
Which Prime does, all the time. I’ve seen him switch from one woman to the next in the space of an afternoon. I’ve seen him struggle between picking menus for dinner, for fuck’s sake. And now he’s acting like he’s the most loyal man in the world? Like he’d never, ever cheat on me?
Come on. It’s crazy.
A sick part of me was elated when he got angry earlier. I liked seeing him crumble, at least for a moment. Prime wears his jokes and his careless attitude like armor. He walks through life like nothing fazes him, like there’s only ice in his veins and nothing else, no warmth in his heart, no cares in his soul.
But for a few minutes, I watched all that get swept away by the thought of me sleeping with another man.
Which is patently insane. I haven’t been with anyone in a while. There have been a few failed dating app attempts here or there, but Prime’s a demanding boss and my parents need my care and attention, so I’ve never really had any extra energy for men. I’m not a virgin, but I’m not very experienced either, so it’s not like I’m trolling around on Tinder and getting dicked by the first stud I find.
Still, it was nice that Prime cared. He really cared.
Now reality’s starting to set in. I blow the ink dry on the contract and set it aside to copy later. It’s past ten and Prime’s already upstairs in the shower.
I grab my toiletries bag from my suitcase and retreat to the extra bathroom. I do my routine, teeth, face, skin, and pull on simple pajamas, but decide to go with my most conservative pair. I’m snug under the blankets scrolling my phone when Prime emerges wearing only a towel.
It’s not like I want to stare. I didn’t set myself up for a view. But for the love of all that’s holy—or really, all that’s wrong and sinful—the man is a physical specimen, a perfect example of the male form, and I absolutely despise him for it.
Round, broad shoulders. Chiseled and defined chest. A shocking number of black tattoos: a cross surrounded with thorns, a serpent, a flock of crows on his shoulder, a name written inside a branch clutched in a dove’s mouth I can’t quite make out. He holds his towel with one hand while the other runs through his thick, dark hair, apparently unaware that I’m gaping at him. His abs ripple as he goes through his drawer, leading down to that obscene V, and I let out a gasp and a shout when he releases the towel, letting it fall, revealing a toned and tanned ass and smooth, muscular thighs, and holy shit?—
“Prime! Your dick’s out!”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “No kidding. I’m getting dressed.”
“But—but—but—“ Holy wow, oh my geez, heavens above, my word, my, my, my?—
My head’s glitching.
That’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.
Not that I have much experience, but still, he’s hung. Veiny and beautiful. I wonder if I can even wrap my hand around it. I’d need two to stroke him, and it’d stretch my mouth wide?—
“Deanna. Eyes up here.” He’s grinning massively when I force myself to stop studying his privates. “Would you please refrain from objectifying me?”
“You’re naked!”
“It’s my bedroom.” He pulls on a pair of boxer briefs and I notice he’s not rushing. “Do I have to dress in the closet like a weirdo while we’re married?”
“No, I mean, I get it, but?—“
“Yes, I have a lovely dick. I’ve been told by many women. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to let you taste it.”
“Prime!”
“Just an innocent offer.”
“That’s not innocent.” I look down despite myself, and fuuuuuuuuuck me, he’s getting hard. “It’s not innocentat all.”
He touches himself. Grips his dick so it shows as an outline in his boxer briefs and acts like he’s surprised. “Huh, look at that. Just thinking about you licking and sucking my big dick gets me all aroused.”
I pull the blankets over my head. “I hate this.”
“You really don’t.”
I’m extremely mortified, but what did I expect? Prime’s not exactly shy about his body. And I’ve seen him before in the past, though never like this. I’ve only caught glimpses and usually he’sbeen buried inside pretty and happy-looking women (and now I know why they always seemed so eager to return).
He’s right that I can’t expect him to change in the closet every day. It’s his room too and he has every right to dress like a normal person. Still, I would’ve liked some warning, and maybe a few months to get used to the idea of seeing his body like that.
