He stared at me.
I kept getting angry and I did it fast until I just plain was.
So I told him, “And by the way, what I said last night that you thought was uncool, you’re right. It was. But in my defense I said it as you were laying some pretty heavy stuff on me. And just so you know, what you just said to me was just as uncool. I returned the phone, Knight. And if you want it all back, except the phone which I’ve used but that too, and the stuff I wore last night, it’s all got its tags still. You can take it. Return it. Give it to someone in your smorgasbord. Whatever. Just don’t tell me and I’ll make it easy for you to do that because if you think I’m using you, I’ll be happy to stop making you think I’m doing that by going away.”
“My smorgasbord?” he asked, brows rising.
“Your smorgasbord of pussy at your club,” I explained, my face set so hard I could feel it.
He studied me.
Then he murmured, “My smorgasbord of pussy.”
“Yeah.”
“My smorgasbord of pussy,” he repeated, still murmuring.
“Yeah!” I snapped somewhat loudly.
Knight burst out laughing.
I watched thinking he really looked good doing that. I was also thinking I wanted to find one of my frying pans and clock him with it. I was also thinking I just might cry. And, lastly, I was wishing my apartment was bigger so I could go somewhere, lock the door and throw a tantrum, scream, sob or all of the above.
His laughter died down to a chuckle and he ordered, “Come here, babe.”
“If I don’t, will you spank me?” I shot back.
His face got serious and he replied shortly, “Yes.”
Damn.
I stomped to him.
He turned to me, pulled me in his arms and held me close.
Then he dipped his face close and asked quietly, “You been lookin’ into me?”
“No,” I answered sharply. “Vivica has. And beware, Knight, she’s protective, crazy and as tenacious as you. She loves me. She knows everything about me. She wants me to have a good life and she does that in a way where I could swear she wants that more for me than she does for her own damned self. So her normal extreme curiosity, when it comes to my future happiness and those who might or might not be giving it to me, ratchets up to ludicrous. Though, that said, she’s already given you her seal of approval and since that seal isn’t a seal so much as a brand burned in so the scar never heals, I think you’re good. Unless you’re a terrorist which, she’s informed me, is the only reason why she’d stop loving you for me.”
That was a lot, too much, but I still didn’t shut up, I was that angry.
“Oh, and, if you don’t play me, she’s naming her first son after you.”
That was when I shut up only to see Knight smiling white and blinding at me.
Then he asked, “You done?”
“Yes,” I clipped.
“You wanna tell me why you’re so pissed?” he asked.
“No, but you won’t let me not do it so I will in order to avoid Knight Hassle. No way, in my life, would I be able to afford a phone like you gave me. The dresses either. The shoes, any of it. I came home to those bags, Knight, and I didn’t think of returning it like the phone because I let you in. All I thought was never, never in my life, would I ever imagine myself standing in my living room with my couch I got for a steal because it was on sale and had a rip in the cushion, my yard sale coffee table, my dinette a friend gave me, and see strewn across it luxurious beauty that someone thought enough about me to give to me. My parents died when I was seven but they weren’t millionaires. Our life was good. It was loving. It was happy but I’d never been spoiled. You spoiled me and if it happened once or a hundred thousand times, I know I’d never get used to it because I never in my life expected it. Each time would be a treasure and that treasure would not be the stuff you gave me. It would be that you gave it to me. And, Knight, that’s because since my parents died, I learned not to expect anything. Life was going to be what I made it, what I worked for it to be, what I earned. So that moment was beautiful to me and you sullied it by intimating that I was using you and I’m pissed because feeling pissed is better than feeling hurt which is really what I feel.”
His arm left my back so his hand could cup my jaw and his face came close as he whispered, “Baby.”
Without delay, I snapped, “I don’t understand what’s between us or how I can behave or if I can even be mad but just so you know, right now, I don’t want you to be nice to me and I don’t want you touching me.”
“Not gonna give you that, Anya,” he said gently.
Figured.
I looked away and blew out a sigh.
“Babe, look at me.”
I looked back, rethinking this situation because when I was pissed or hurt or whatever, I wanted to be able just to be me.
“You, Anya, are a woman who needs a dog, a house with a white picket fence, one boy, one girl and a man who worships the ground you walk on, thanks God every night he was fuckin’ lucky enough to con you into lyin’ your head on the pillow beside his but still watches football on Sundays. You and me stay the course, you are never gonna get that from me.”
I stared at him, again… freaking… confused.
“Pardon?”
“I tried to walk away, did it twice, so I could leave you to that destiny. Then you walk in my club in that fuckin’ dress. I knew you had no underwear on. I knew without seein’ that you walked in my club and every dick on every guy who caught sight of you started gettin’ hard seein’ you in that dress because you’re you but also because you had no fuckin’ underwear on. Then you were with Nick. And seein’ you sittin’ with him, lookin’ beautiful but scared outta your fuckin’ mind, I knew two things. One, I had to claim you and look after you before someone or a shitload of someones fucked you in their rabid pursuit of all that is you. And two, I had to claim you because I could not deny any longer how fuckin’ much I wanted you. You deserve that life with the dog and the white fence, babe. You deserve good and normal and clean. So when you walked into this kitchen and smiled at me bright like you’d never been so fuckin’ happy, I had to know if I gave you that or what I gave you gave you that. So I set about findin’ out. And knowin’ it’s me that gave you that, knowin’ you might be happy without the dog or that white fence, baby, that makes me happy.”
“You’re not good and normal and clean?” I whispered.
“No, Anya, I am not any of that. Someone fucks you, I got no problem drawin’ his blood, givin’ him pain, makin’ absolutely fuckin’ certain he’ll never do it again. I’ve already done it and I will not hesitate to do it again. I lay my head down at night, you might be tied to my bed spread-eagled next to me so if I get a taste for you in the middle of the night, I can put my mouth to you without waiting. I am not good. I am not normal. I am not clean. I fuckin’ love my life. But I got off way more than normally, tellin’ you what I want and watchin’ you mind me. You taste fuckin’ great. That cunt of yours feels even better. And lookin’ in your face when I come is even fuckin’ better. And all that made my life a whole lot better. So you gotta know, you gave that to me, I own it but I never intend to be any of those things, good or normal or clean.”
I was silent.
I was also more than mildly turned on.
Knight was silent too then he wasn’t anymore.
“So, Anya, babe, I had to know it was me makin’ you happy. I asked. You shared. And that’s good. Because down the line I don’t want it sittin’ in my gut that I should have left you to good and normal and clean. I’m pleased as fuck you like what’s growin’ between us because, babe, seriously, I do too. And another thing, expect to be spoiled, baby, because I’m gonna work on that too. You and yard sale coffee tables are a thing of the fuckin’ past.”