HIS CURVY OBSESSION

Accusations

BANKS POV.

She is sitting, eyes darting everywhere except me.

Still refusing to sign so I switch tactic.

“You bleed heavy.”

Her head lifts sharply at my words and I hold her gaze: steady and unhurried. A dare dressed as an observation.

“How did you know that si....master?” The correction comes quick. She’s learning.

“I’ve f****d you and licked my c*m off you.” I say it flat, my eyes tracking the rise and fall of her chest.

Her mouth falls open. Eyes blazing high with fury and I watch her fight it. Watch her swallow the rage that made her lash against a man double her size the first day I saw her.

The war on her face is more interesting than most conversations I’ve had this week: She holds the stare, lick and clamp her mouth shut, make heavy effort to swallow... Finally,she blinks and look away with a little nod.

“Visit the gynaecologist.” I say.

“Okay master.”

“For the next six days, you come here after work.” She doesn’t look at me. Instead she stands, fixing her gaze on the Edinburgh castle painting instead: the one everyone ignored at the auction. But she’s studying it, twice now.

“I hope you know I have a family.” She says it carefully. Testing.

“You live alone." Her head whips to me.

"You... how...?"She stops herself as realization dawn and rolls her eyes instead

That defiant eye roll would've costed anyone an arm and leg but I let her be, watching her take a seat on the sofa opposite me.

I'll prefer my legs. I blink at the thought. I don't. It's been a while I did or allowed something remotely private beyond removal of clothes, exchange of body slams and fluid which is known as pure s*x. Anything romantic, I'm against it. I just need the orgasm and body that comes with it.

Your parents are in China. Your brother is in Dallas with a friend. Your sister is at school. I don’t say it, it's useless

She opens her mouth. Closes it.

“Speak.” I say it and notice at the same time, that I actually want to know. Not for the arrangement. For the specific reason that her mouth, when it moves without filter, produces things I haven’t heard before.

And since she's refusing to sign, she definitely have a lot on her mind to say.

She touches her hair and I close my eyes when a whiff of her perfume assault my nostrils in a gripping way.

I want to find out what perfume she wears. I almost ask but can't risk it.

if I know the name I’ll have it sourced and near me at all time, which is the kind of irrational move that belongs to a different version of me. One I don’t intend to become.

Everything about her is already pulling. I can’t let her occupy me at work as well.

“I’m not into threesomes.” She says dragging out my thoughts

“I don’t do bestiality.” Now it's my turn to be bedazzled by her. Wtf?

“I’m not having anal. No fisting.” She keeps going, chin up, the words landing like items on a shopping list.

“It might be hard, but I’ll appreciate respect and..”

I tilt my head and she stops. Picking at the word she’s withholding with visible effort.

“Don’t stop now.”

The silence stretches and I should let it go. I don’t, because I’m certain whatever she’s holding back is more interesting than the b********y clause.

I grab the wine I got from her shop and extend it.

“Thank you,” she says, collecting it. A trail escapes the corner of her mouth as she drains the glass.

I watch it slide down and feel something move in me. A specific, unwanted impulse to lean forward and take it from her skin with my mouth.

I don’t. I pour more instead.

She looks at me,scoffs, take it and settle it on the table. Smart.

We look at each other as I wait. She knows I’m waiting. Her tongue moves across her lips, dry, stalling.

“No slavery.”

I lean forward. Elbows on my knees and eyes staring at her .

“You gave me alcohol to loosen me up... which is sly and manipulative.” She licks her lips again, gathering momentum now.

“You offered me two million dollars monthly to sleep with you. You won’t let me go home or make my own decision about whether I even want this arrangement. You’re powerful, well-known, and reportedly dangerous.” A pause.

“It doesn’t seem like it....but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

I remain still. Knowing she letting out the venom I saw at her shop that made her mouth to the man.

“Brutality against women, men, animals .... it happens more than people think.” She’s digging her toes into my carpet now and fidgeting her nails.

She's terrified and too stubborn to show it cleanly, yet she continue talking

“I’m not saying that’s who you are or me saying this will change your decision but I’ll plead and appreciate... please don’t involve me in s*x slavery.”

My eyebrows lift and I feel my nose scrunch up as I stare deeper at her.

She didn't just accuse me of s*x slavery.

"Slavery?" She exhales and gulp.

I understand I'm powerful and can look intimidating. Sure the money I paid and offered to pay monthly is a lot.

I know that but I earn tens of it in a day.

Being seen with me alone is an upgrade in itself. No upgrade happens without the presence of money.

I enjoy watching the changes my wealth and association provides to the woman I'm with.

Everyone that have been honored to f**k me still flaunt it because their lives changed.

I'm selective with where I shove my d**k so when I find one worthy of it, I spend money.

Basically, I use money to cover for every aspect I lack. Which is a lot.

"You're quiet" She says

"You just accused me of b********y and s*x slave trade Mia belle" Her mouth falls wide open with a deep intake of air then close... Keeping it in

"I.... I don't mean you are into it. It's just that there's 0.001% probably I'm being greedy and two million monthly comes with my life and soul"

I lean back against my chair.

"I just want to put it out there in case I can tug on your non existent heart. Not like I'm saying you're wicked. I'm..." she gulps, clearly flustered and shaking on the cushion chair .

Then a sound fill the room. My laughter. She's clearly scared yet she won't shut up. Her eyes remain locked on me as my laugh echo

She said I’m powerful and scary. The thought settles as amusement

If she had my resources, my reach, considering she hasn’t withheld a single word, she’d be as feared as I am.

I continue laughing. Every bones in me alive and my muscles shake.

Leaning forward, I pour myself another wine as I take a sip.

She's not just adorable. She's endearing and bold. Cute over it all

I stop laughing.

“I’m not.” I tell her.

She looks at me, her shoulders dropping with a loud exhale of someone who escaped being slashed. Light and hope returning to her eyes like sunshine after nightfall.

“Thank you, master.” And the weight that drops from her in that moment, drops heavily in my chest. Like she has been waiting for pain or punishment.

Two words. Gratitude.

I've been thanked by women in this context before. Thanked elaborately, thanked performatively, thanked in ways designed to please me. This is none of those things.

This is a woman who genuinely feared something and is genuinely grateful it isn’t true.

My chest drops and races again. A familiar tug I don't wish to examine.

“Anything else?.” I lean back against the sofa when she bites her bottom lips. Looking down.

She really have something else to say?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Tell me she's not being paranoid by asking all these questions. Aswear... I'd be asking questions too if such deal come to me.