There. He didn't know how else he could say it. How did he explain to a woman that he only ever wanted to be ..., how had she put it? “Fuck buddies”? He liked Tatum, probably a lot more than he was admitting to himself, or to her. But he didn't want to get her hopes up. Things had gone so badly between him and Pet; he didn't want that happening with Tate. She was someone he always wanted to call a friend. He wanted to hold her down, and bend her to his will, and make her do degrading, horrible things with him.

And I want her to be my friend.

“I'll stay, Jameson. I'll stay,” she murmured, moving away from him to lay back on her stomach.

“You're okay with all that?” he asked. More silence.

“I have to be. It's all you have to offer,” she finally replied.

“You don't want more?” he pressed.

“Do you want me to lie?”

“No.”

“Of course I want more. I am a girl, you're right. I want Prince Charming to ride up on a white horse, and carry me off to his castle. The only difference between me and other girls is once I get there, I want him to bend me over the throne and pull my hair while he fucks me hard and calls me names. But I know that'll never happen with you. I'm not sure I'd even want it to be you – you are the devil,” Tate agreed with him. Jameson laughed.

“Prince Charming could never treat you as good as the devil,” he teased. She shrugged.

“Maybe not. But maybe so. What'll happen to you, if I'm ever so blessed to find this magical S&M Prince Charming?” she asked. He looked at the ceiling. He didn't want to think about that moment.

“Go back to hell. Find another succubus,” Jameson replied.

“Whoever she is, I hope she's as good as me,” she whispered.

“No will ever be as good as you, Tatum.”

~13~

Jameson watched Tate go home later that afternoon. She didn't come back for three days. Three hair raising, teeth grinding, skin clawing days. She had said she wanted to be with him. He was halfway tempted to go find her and drag her home by her hair, force her to keep her word. But for the first time since they had started sleeping together, Jameson didn't know if that would be welcome.

She turned up on her own, on a Wednesday night. Just strolled in to his library, like no time had passed. She kissed him on the cheek, then went upstairs to change her clothes. He didn't see her again for about an hour, and when he went to look for, she was in Sanders' room, playing chess. He felt left out, but he didn't want to intrude. He wound up laying in bed, staring at his ceiling, thinking about her.

“I looked for you downstairs,” her voice came from his doorway.

“I'm not there.”

“Ooohhh, there's a tone. Satan feeling especially devilish tonight?” Tate asked with a laugh, shutting the door behind her.

“No more than usual. How was the chess game?” he asked.

“Is that it? Sanders? I don't have to spend time with him,” she told him. Jameson hadn't looked away from the ceiling and she hadn't come in to his field of vision.

“I don't care. What have you been doing all week?” he questioned her. He felt the bed dip. She was sitting near his feet.

“Stuff. Just kinda moped around my apartment,” she answered.

“No more baseball players?” he asked with a smirk. She laughed.

“No. Truth? He was nothing compared to you,” her voice was low and husky. She had come to play.

Am I game?

“Nice words. The question is whether or not I believe you,” he said. She laughed again.

“I don't really care whether or not you believe me. If you don't want me sleeping with other people, just say so,” she told him. He paused.

“Was he any good at all?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How good?”

“Not as good as you. Not as good as Ang. But pretty good. I wouldn't say no to seconds,” she replied.

“Did you come?”

“Twice.”

“Where did you fuck him?”

“The bar.”

“In the bar? Wow, Tate. I'm missing out.”

“I know. And in the back bar, on a pool table.”

“Hot.”

“I think I scared him a little, but he liked it.”

“I know the feeling,” Jameson laughed. Her hand rested on his leg.

“I could never scare you,” she whispered.

“You scare me right now,” he replied.

Suddenly she was crawling up his body. Her knees came to a rest on either side of his hips and he rested his hands on her thighs. Her hands were flat against his chest, pushing herself upright.

“Don't be ridiculous, it doesn't suit you. He wasn't exactly a take charge kind of guy, I had to lead the way,” Tate continued with her story.

“Sounds like a pussy,” Jameson commented, laughing. She shrugged.

“Just different. Sometimes it's fun to be in charge,” she told him. He stopped laughing.

“Do you want to tell me what to do? Take the lead here?” he asked. She chuckled, a dark sound, and suddenly she was leaning close, her teeth against his neck.

“No. You're so good at it,” she breathed. He clenched his fingers, digging them in to her thighs.

“This isn't very interesting. Little man, so scared of the big bad wolf that you had to hold his hand to help you get off. We should just stick to my stories,” Jameson taunted.