Ruining Hattie, page 13
“What?”
“There’s no reason to go around pissing on your territory, Steph, because it’s not actually your territory—it’s mine, remember?” I walk over and sit at my desk.
She rolls her eyes and sits in the chair on the other side. “If you’d given me a heads-up that you hired her, I wouldn’t have been interrogating her when you walked in.”
I steeple my hands on my desk. “Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t have.”
She shrugs, lips pressed together. “My point still stands. You should have told me.”
I lean back in my seat, arms crossed. “You work for me. You’re only entitled to know what I choose to tell you. Now, I want to hear how it went this week. Any issues I need to deal with?”
She looks appropriately chastised before she launches into telling me what I need to know, and I relax a bit, hoping she won’t cause Hattie any more grief.
When we finish our meeting, it’s apparent to me that she’s hoping I’ll go lock the office door so we can have some fun, but I’m not interested. My mind is on only one thing right now—advancing my plan with Hattie. And with the way she ran out of here, I suspect I may have to do some damage control.
“Where are you planning to be next week?” I ask, getting up from my chair and making my way to the door.
“Los Angeles.”
My hand closes around the door handle, and I pull it open, motioning that she can head out. “Great. Let me know how it goes.”
She stands from her chair, looking as though maybe she’s going to say something, but she must realize that her words will fall on deaf ears, because she simply nods and leaves.
I pass Steph in the hallway as she’s talking to one of the dancers, and I can feel her watch me until I disappear from view. Steph better not be getting territorial on me now, or the two of us are going to have an unpleasant conversation.
I quickly make my way to my condo, then I confirm with Jeffery that Hattie arrived about twenty-five minutes ago.
When I enter the condo, Hattie isn’t in the main area, so I head down the hall to her room. Her bedroom door is open, and several boxes are piled beside her dresser. She’s sitting on the end of the bed with her shoulders sagging, staring down between her legs. Something is wrong. Something besides Steph’s attitude toward her.
“I almost quit today.” Her words come out soft and forlorn as I enter the room.
Fear spears me, sharp and swift. “Why?”
She raises her head and meets my gaze. There are tears in her eyes, which I should relish, but somehow they make me feel… protective. I push back that this whole thing is getting a little twisted and recenter myself on the plan.
“I don’t want to tell you.” Hattie looks away from me. “I’m ashamed.”
I sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “What would you have to be ashamed about?”
“When I took a break today, I went out to the main room, and I was watching Destiny give a lap dance to one of the customers and it…” Her face crumples, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “It turned me on,” she whispers.
Jesus. She’s more innocent than I thought if being turned on causes her this much guilt. I have to wonder if this woman has ever even had an orgasm. Is she a virgin?
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” When she tries to look away from me, I place a finger under her chin and turn her head in my direction. “Hattie, that’s what’s supposed to happen. It’s a biological response. A normal human response. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.” I keep my voice gentle, hoping she’ll hear the truth in my words. Because I won’t get anywhere with her if she thinks every time she’s turned on, it’s bad.
As much as I resent this woman, I hate that she was raised to think there’s something wrong with her because of her sexuality and what she desires.
“You don’t understand. My whole life I was taught that things like that, places like that are wrong. And now I work in one, and not only am I lying to everyone back home about it, but I’m starting not to hate it, not to think it’s so terrible. I was enjoying it.”
“Have you considered that a bigger issue might be if you hadn’t?”
Her forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean?”
Here goes nothing. “I know that you were raised with certain beliefs, and I’m not here to tell you they’re wrong. Not at all. But sexuality is a part of being human. Sometimes it’s just for fun or pleasure, sure, and if that’s not your thing, okay. But it’s also a big part of expressing your feelings for someone you care about. It’s not just about procreation.” Taking a gamble, I place her hand over my heart. Her hazel eyes widen. “It’s about connection and intimacy, knowing a person the way very few other people ever will. It’s about giving and receiving pleasure. There’s a reason it’s called making love.” I shake my head. “No one should ever feel guilty about that, so stop beating yourself up about it.”
She lets out a shaky exhale, and I drop her hand from my chest. “I hear what you’re saying, and on some level, I know you’re right. I do. It’s just so hard to push against the voice in my head because it’s been there for a long time.”
“You said you were going to quit. What changed your mind?”
“Originally, it was when I saw my pay stub in my inbox. But what really solidified it was those boxes.” She motions to the small pile at the corner of the bed. “Those arrived today, and I was thinking back to when I was packing them. I was so excited to experience something new. Still nervous about how it would turn out, but I was open to new experiences, and it felt right. Coming here to discover a little bit of who I might be away from everything I know somehow seemed important, and I decided that I don’t want to give that up just because I’m scared or ashamed or am having difficulty adjusting.”
“So you’re staying then?” Even I hear the hopeful thread to my voice. I tell myself it’s just because I want to be able to carry out my plan, but I can’t entirely push away the thought that I may be lying to myself.
She nods. “After my mom died, all I remember is how sad my dad was. I was young, but all I wanted was for him to be happy again, and it seemed like that was never going to happen. I worked so hard to make sure I was never a problem and never gave him anything to be upset about. Then Carla came into our lives, and I saw him start to come around. Then finally, he was like his old self. I didn’t want to rock that balance, so I kept striving to be everything they wanted me to be, but I’m just now realizing that I never stopped to ask myself who I wanted to be.”
The mention of my mother’s name feels like shards of glass in my throat, and it takes me a moment to respond.
“You’re a good person, Hattie.” Despite myself, I mean the words. “But you can’t live your life to please everyone else. You’ll never really be happy that way. You need to be whoever is going to make you happy. And the only way to do that is to jump in and try new things and see how you feel.”
She thinks over my words and nods slowly. “I think maybe you’re right.”
I squeeze her hand, rubbing my thumb back and forth. I don’t miss the way she sucks in a breath.
“I look forward to seeing who you become.” I’m unable to stop the grin that spreads on my face. I just hope it doesn’t look too feral.
“Thank you for listening. You’re really good at that.”
“I’m here for you whenever you need me. In whatever capacity you need me.” I keep rubbing my thumb over her knuckles and maintain our eye contact.
It would be so easy to kiss her. As our gazes hold, we both inch forward a bit. Her gaze dips to my mouth, and she licks her lips. We drift another inch closer, the rope between us taut with sexual tension.
Our lips are an inch apart when I wait for her to take the leap, then a buzzing sound rips through the sexual haze like cymbals crashing in an orchestra.
Hattie bolts up from the mattress, appearing a little frantic as she searches for her phone.
It’s on the other side of me on the mattress, so I reach for it to pass it to her. The name Mom flashes on the screen.
She takes the phone from me and glances at it. “That’s my mom. I’d better take it.”
I stand stiffly, annoyed that Carla is fucking with my plan. Then again, maybe she did me a favor. When I was leaning in for that kiss, I wasn’t at all thinking of the game I was playing with Hattie. I was motivated by pure animal instinct.
“I’ll leave you be.” I smooth my tie down my chest before I turn and leave the room.
Next week, it’s time to move forward with my plans for Hattie, helping her discover who she can be out from under the confines of her never-ending morals.
23
HATTIE
By the time I fall into bed on Saturday night, I’m exhausted.
Bastion made good on his promise to show me around the city today. We went up to the top of the Space Needle, he took me to the Pike Place Market, and we had a private tour through the Museum of Pop Culture, which was really cool. It was a jam-packed day full of new and interesting things.
But the whole time, I couldn’t stop thinking about our almost-kiss the day before. At least, that’s what I think it was. I’m not the most skilled or experienced person when it comes to that sort of thing, but I swear if my mom’s phone call hadn’t interrupted us, we would have kissed.
What I’m still trying to sort out is how I feel about that.
In the moment, I only felt disappointed by the interruption. But that’s horrible because he’s my boss and much older and more experienced than I am. But then I think about what he said about discovering who I am without the confines of all the barriers I’ve grown accustomed to, and I feel disappointment again. My head is in a vicious cycle of wanting one thing, feeling bad about it, and then wanting it again.
Was Bastion right that sexuality is just a part of life and I owe it to myself to discover what role it plays in my own life without feeling ashamed?
I still hadn’t figured it out by the time I went to bed, and what made it even more confusing was that Bastion had been completely platonic with me all day. Not that I want him to maul me in front of other people, but there was no sign of any attraction to me at all. Maybe he regretted what had almost happened, and for him, the phone call interruption was a good thing.
When my eyes snap open and the room is dark, it takes me a moment to realize what woke me. Then I hear it again—hoarse screams coming from down the hall.
Heart racing, I whip the covers off me and rush down the hallway. It sounds as if it’s coming from Bastion’s bedroom. I whip the door open.
Bastion’s curtains are open, allowing some of the light from the city to filter into his room. It’s dim, but I can make him out on the bed, thrashing around, the bed sheets twisted. His eyes are closed, and he’s screaming, “No, no, no.”
“Bastion!” I rush to the side of the bed and stand for a beat, unsure what to do.
Are you supposed to wake people up when they’re having a nightmare? Will that make it worse?
But then he screams again, his face contorted as though he’s being tortured, and I can’t take seeing him in agony anymore.
I crawl over to him and place one hand on his shoulder to try to get him to stop moving and one on his cheek. “Bastion, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” He fights me a bit, so I apply more pressure. “Bastion, wake up!”
His eyes pop open. At first there’s a look of horror in his eyes, then he blinks and comes back to himself. His chest heaves up and down as he sucks in air and stares at me.
“You were having a bad dream.”
“What… what are you doing in here?” His voice is hoarse as he slides up his bed to rest his back against the headboard.
Suddenly, I realize that I’m in bed with him and he’s shirtless, wearing only his boxers. I can’t help but admire the lean muscles of his body. When his eyes drag over me, I remember that I only wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of underwear to bed.
“I’m sorry I barged in, but you were screaming. You were having a nightmare.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Right, yeah. I remember now.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I run my hand down his cheek the same way my mom always does to me. I’ve always found the gesture comforting, and I’m hoping he might too.
He goes rigid, then closes his eyes and leans into the touch. “No, it’s enough to relive it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I frown, wondering what part of his past was traumatizing enough to cause that kind of nightmare. Pulling my hand away, I shift to move off the bed, but Bastion reaches for my wrist.
“Stay with me?”
My mouth goes dry. On one hand, I want to stick around to offer him comfort and make sure he’s okay. On the other hand, I’ve never slept in the same bed as a man. But the lingering fear in his eyes has me nodding and moving closer to him.
I lie back on a pillow, and when he pulls the blankets back up from where they ended up at the end of the bed, I can’t help but admire the muscles in his back. My nipples pebble under the cotton T-shirt, and I shift onto my side so that my back will be to him. I’m not here to ogle him.
I feel Bastion shifting into place behind me, getting comfortable, and his arm slides around my waist, pulling my back to his front. All the air in my lungs remains trapped there for a minute.
He moves his face into the crook of my neck. “Is this okay?”
I should tell him no, tell him I’m going back to my room. But I can’t. It feels too good—both physically and emotionally—so I nod and relax into his hold.
Darkness sets in minutes later.
I wake up in almost the same position, except now I can feel the rigid length of Bastion’s erection pushing against my underwear. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I arch my hips.
He groans from behind me, and I still. “No, don’t stop.” His voice is rough with sleep.
When I realize I want to do it again, the familiar shame that comes with a realization like that pushes into my thoughts, but I force myself to ignore it. This is exactly what Bastion meant when he said I should feel comfortable exploring my sexuality and figuring out what it means to me.
And I want to. In this moment, I want to so badly.
I arch my pelvis again, and this time, he arches his hips into me. A low moan leaves my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth.
Bastion’s arm comes around me and pulls my hand away. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare censor yourself.”
His words hit their mark when I realize that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. For years, I’ve been censoring myself, rather than figuring out who I am.
I arch my hips again as Bastion trails his nose through my hair and the side of my neck. His hand comes to rest on my hip, and he squeezes, pulling me back into him. My heart is a bass drum, and my breathing comes out in fast pants.
“Will you let me make you feel good, Hattie?”
“I… I’m not going to have sex with you.” After my experience with Rich, I’m far from ready for that.
“Who said anything about sex? I’m going to make you come without even putting anything in your pussy.”
The vulgar words coming off his lips should disgust me, have me running from his bed. But they have the opposite effect.
“Has a man ever made you come before?”
I shake my head. I may have had sex before, but I’ve never had an orgasm. Not even by my own hand. Every time I was brave enough to try, shame would arise, and I would stop.
“Let’s see if we can remedy that, shall we?” Bastion’s hand appears in front of my face. “Suck on my fingers.”
Before I register his intent, he’s pushing his index and middle fingers into my mouth. It takes a moment, but I do what he says, sucking gently on the two digits.
Bastion lets out a moan and bites gently on the curve of my neck while thrusting his hips into me. My breasts grow heavy, and the space between my legs aches. I arch into him some more, sucking on his fingers. He growls and pulls them from my mouth.
His hand comes to rest at the edge of my panties, and I hold my breath as the anticipation builds. Slowly, so slowly, he slides his hand under the waistband until it rests on my mound. He strokes the hair there. Every muscle in my body goes taut as I wait to see what he’s going to do next, desperate for him to take me where he promised.
Finally, his fingers continue their journey, but instead of giving attention where I really need him, they slide further.
“Spread your legs, babe. Hook your top leg around the back of mine.”
I do what he says, opening myself to him fully.
Bastion’s fingers dip to my entrance, but he doesn’t push them in. Instead, he rims the entrance with the tips of his fingers, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild but providing me no real relief.
“Bastion…”
“Yeah, babe? What do you want?” He nips my neck again.
“More…”
He speeds up his pace, and my hips gyrate with a will of their own. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I feel as if I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
Bastion must know it too, because his deep chuckle rings in my ear, and he moves his fingers to exactly where I need them. He delivers the most primal pleasure with a circular motion of his fingers, and I’m unable to stop myself from moving against them.
“That’s it. Take your pleasure, Hattie. Take what you want.”
His words spur me on to do just that. I grind my pelvis against him, and my base need ratchets higher and higher. The feeling becomes so intense that I instinctively back away from it, stilling my movements.
“I don’t think so,” Bastion rumbles in my ear.
Then his fingers switch up their movement, applying more pressure, catapulting me toward the precipice. My hands instinctively grip his wrist, but he won’t be deterred.
Every muscle in my body tenses, and my back bows. Fear grips me as a feeling I don’t recognize takes over my body. I’m completely out of control, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating.
