Page 5

CHAPTER

FOUR

DEMI

Stepping out of the shower, I wrap the towel around me, knot it around my upper chest, and meander over to the counter so I can brush my teeth.

Again, Conan beat me to the bathroom this morning and his whisker hair is laying haphazardly in the sink.

I both internally and externally roll my eyes, this is getting too much for me to mentally handle.

Outside of a few nights here and there, I’ve mostly lived on my own since Luna and I got our college degrees.

She and I melded together easily, we shared everything from clothes, shoes, essentials, and food, but Conan and I—well, we don’t share anything and the fact that he doesn’t clean up after himself as well as not putting his items in drawers after using them propels me into a tailspin and to the point of utter and absolute madness, insanity, lunacy, batshit craziness, and drives me to drinking .

A bunch.

I’ve had more wine and margaritas since he’s moved in than I’ve imbibed in for my entire adult life, and that says something about how he makes me feel.

I actually think I have a few gray hairs!

Now that the thought is ruminating in my head, I pull out my hair dryer and blow dry it so I can check to see if my assumption is correct. Leaning into the mirror, I examine each strand of hair and am shocked to see that not a single silver lock of hair is seen.

Nodding at myself because I’m a badass who’s managed to keep my natural color intact through the strain of him invading my territory, I toss it up in a clip and call it a day.

I fist bump the glass, and say to myself, “You the bitch.”

Technically, I recognize the well-known saying is, ‘You the man’ , but seeing as I don’t have a dick swinging between my legs and the reference to that appendage when it comes to me holds no merit, I’ll stick with what I am—a grade A bitch.

And proud of it.

Fuck knows I’ve earned that title.

When my clothes, that I grabbed from my dresser and closet are settled over my body, I storm out of the bathroom, head in the direction of the kitchen where I keep my cleaning supplies, grab the anti-bacterial wipes and stomp over to Conan, where the asshole has his feet kicked up in the recliner and toss the plastic canister to him.

He grabs it after it hits his belly and turns his head in my direction.

“Is there something you want me to do with these, Demi?” He shoots me a wolfish grin, the one that gets my motor revving in every area of my body, especially between the legs.

I’ll never admit that out loud, especially to him because he has enough of a swollen head and doesn’t need to know this or it may explode from his mammoth-sized ego.

“You made a mess in the bathroom,” I remark.

“Did I?” he asks, sticking the tip of his tongue out and licking his lips. My eyes travel along with that action, and as they begin to glisten, my breath hitches.

A satisfied gleam stares back at me, and it annoys me enough that it has me stomping my foot. “You know you did!” I holler. “Clean the shit up, Conan.”

“I thought tomorrow was the scheduled cleaning day around here,” he teases.

“It is… usually. But if you pick up as you go, and if you think about it that way, it’s less work to be done on the scheduled day,” I argue.

He reaches over, his abs constricting as he sets the wipes on the coffee table. And yes, my eyes follow that too because they’re traitorous bitches. He stands up, and once again, I find myself transfixed by the way his abs ripple with the small moves and adjustments.

The man needs to learn how to wear a shirt for fuck’s sake. He’s always trotting around here without a top, and it has my libido confused about if we want him or if we don’t.

We don’t, we definitely don’t, I remind myself.

He’s a walking, talking nightmare to my sex drive. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to Conan. He’s damn good in bed, the best I’ve ever had.

Again, something I’ll never mention to anyone—ever.

I’ve given in to him more often than not, and the fact that I have no self-control when it comes to him—well, it pisses me off. He’s determined, I’ll give him that.

“Alright, Demi. I’ll go wipe off the counter and clean up the sink,” he replies as he attempts to mollify me with a grin.

I nod my head, not trusting myself to say anything because with the way I’m responding to him, I’d probably drop to my knees and beg him to fill my mouth.

He walks around me, but I feel him come up behind me before he wraps his arms around my waist, leaning into my ear, he whispers, “Why are you so wound up, Demoness? Do you need some stress relief?”

What I mean to say is no, but what ends up escaping my mouth is a hissed, “Yes.”

“All you had to do was ask,” he tells me, that delectable tongue swiping along the nape of my neck, goosebumps erect along my skin in response.

“Dammit,” I utter as my top and bra go flying through the air after he rips them off me in succession.

When he cups my breasts and swipes his thumb over my nipples, I moan. “So fucking responsive,” he murmurs, nipping the shell of my ear.

“Uh huh,” I purr, not needing any foreplay after watching him strut around here topless. “Are you going to fuck me, Conan, or do you need warming up?”

He roguishly chuckles, saying, “Always impatient to get down to the deed, aren’t you, my Demi?”

I choke out, “I’m not your anything, Conan.”

“You’re wrong about that, and one day, you’ll see it for yourself and admit it to me,” he declares.

“Never,” I divulge.

“I should keep this from you until you do,” he tells me, rolling his hips into mine. I can feel through our pants how hard and ready he is.

“You could,” I counter, “but then, I’d find someone else to take your place.”

Wrong thing to say!

Very wrong because when his spine snaps straight and a growl echoes through the room, I instantly recognize my mistake.

Damn me and my big, fat mouth.

He shoves me forward, yanks my leggings down to where they’re hugging my hips and pushes his fingers inside of me. “This belongs to me!” he roars, his digits hitting that sweet spot inside of me that’d damn near have me agreeing to almost anything. Almost.

“Wrong, it belongs to me and whomever I choose to share it with,” I say. Again, the wrong damn thing. My mouth seems to be a passenger on a runaway train because even though I’m thinking one thing, another seeps out.

Now, I’ve been beaten, starved, and held hostage inside of a closet, but never in my life have I been spanked until this.

When his hand lands on the cheek of my ass, I yelp.

But he doesn’t stop with one single smack, no, he switches from one side to the other, every strike causing me to jump and shriek.

“Conan!”

“Demi!” he mockingly repeats, using the same volume as I did when I howled out his name.

“Would you stop! I’m not a child,” I contend.

“Then stop egging me on like one,” he suggests, smacking his palm onto my flesh. I’m sure it’s a crimson shade of red by now. “You want me to prove to you that you belong to me, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

I’m bristling mad now, so I continue shoving my foot in my mouth by insisting, “I don’t want you to do that. I’d never want that because I belong to no one!”

“You’re so damn hard headed,” he exasperatingly replies.

“You want this, you need this, but you deny it to yourself because you don’t want to lose your independence.

Newsflash, lover, I don’t want to take that away from you, I’d never ask that or demand it of you.

I like your independent streak, your strength, and your aptitude for life.

I want you just as you are, I only want to enhance it. ”

“You can’t,” I refute.

“I can,” he states, releasing a huff of air before leaning over my back, hugging me. “But you have to stop holding yourself back and let me in. Give me a chance to prove it to you, Demi.”

“I don’t know how,” I whisper.

“Let me help you,” he whispers back.

“I can’t let go of my control, Conan,” I admit.

“Then don’t. I don’t need nor do I want to control you, Demi. I just want to be a part of your life. I need you to hear me. You listening?”

“Yes,” I mumble.

“I’m yours as much as you’re mine.” That right there, that must be what I’ve been waiting and needing to hear and know because my entire being relaxes into his.

This man is capable of anything, even taming the crazy chick inside of me.

“You promise?” I probe.

“I swear it,” he vows.

“Then I’ll try. But don’t expect it to be smooth sailing, Conan. I’m not an easy woman to care about.”

“I have a life jacket, Demi. I won’t drown. And if I wanted easy, I’d hit up one of the club girls,” he rebuts. “Besides, easy is boring.”

“I’m not that,” I acknowledge.

He barks out a laugh and states, “I can agree to that. Now, are you ready for me to help you get rid of that tension?”

“About damn time,” I sass.