Game of Chance
Chapter 15
“So, we’re just gonna sit like this for the next hour?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ll do whatever I want to do, seeing how you’re not really in the position to stop me.”
“I’m not,” Contessa concluded with a wry grin.
“Do you even know how much I enjoy having the upper hand over you?” he asked.
//
Contessa rocked her hips against Marshall’s slowly and purposefully.
“You can squirm all you want, baby, but I’m the one in control.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“What if I screamed—right now—what would you say?” she challenged.
“You see, Tessa, you’re not going to.”
“That’s true. Not yet, at least. I was thinking that’d be a last-ditch effort, but I won’t need it.”
//
“Won’t you fuck me already, Marsh?” she crooned.
“No, I won’t.”
“Well,” she began coyly, “You know, any other guy wouldn’t hesitate. In fact, I bet that guy coming in would just love to have a go.”
“I’d kill him first,” Marshall bit out.
“And I know Curtis wouldn’t let an opportunity go to waste—lest we not forget that had you not called me, I might have his cock buried inside me right now—”
Her voice tapered off as Marshall’s grip on her hips tightened, and his blunt nails dug into her tender flesh. “This is the only cock that will ever be in you—I swear to god!”
“You wanna keep it that way?” she taunted. “Then turn me the fuck around!”
//
“Better?” he said softly, leaning his head against hers.
“Not quite.”
“What else?”
“Quit being mad at me for manipulating you into screwing me! It’s not my fault you can’t control yourself. As I see it, I’m the victim here,” she replied exaggeratedly.
“My fault?”
“Mhm.”
“I bet you want me to say sorry?”
“No.”
“No?” he said, surprise evident in his voice.
“I want you to show me—after you let me go so we can leave.”
//
“Isn’t this better?” she drawled.
“I don’t know,” he teased and flicked bubbles in her direction.
“I hope you learned your lesson!”
“I was supposed to learn a lesson?”
“Uh huh. With a woman, you can never have the upper hand. Especially not with me. Face it, Mr. Mathers, I’m your weakness!”
He grinned. “I should have never told you that piece of info.”
“Probably not,” she returned with a similar smile.
//
They laid sated in tangled bed sheets, Marshall’s arms draped protectively over her abdomen. Their breathing was slow and languid; hers hitched as she shivered under his caressing finger that traced the length of her arm and the planes of her stomach and breasts.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she whispered.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” he questioned.
“My vacation doesn’t last forever, you know. I have to get back to work.”
“Work,” he huffed. “You have everything you need here, with me. What do you need to work for?”
“Because I don’t know that you’ll always be paying my way. What happens when you get pissed off at me? Do I starve that week?”
“You know I wouldn’t do that—”
“No, you wouldn’t, but I can’t rely on you for money. I can’t rely on something that doesn’t even have a name.”
“You’re mine. Isn’t that enough?”
“Sure it is. It’s enough for me to be with you. It’s not enough for me to put my entire future in your hands.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Marshall, not only are the odds not in our favor to begin with, but I don’t even want your money. I mean, I’d love to abuse it for a trip to Paris, on a whim, but I need to make my own money so I know that no matter what happens, in ten years, I’ll still be able to enjoy my life.”
“Wait a second. The odds? What fucking odds?”
“You’re Eminem. I’m nobody. You’re thirty, I’m twenty-two. You live here, in Detroit, on the east coast. Where am I? Cali ‘til I die.”
“We can make it work.”
“Yes, Marshall, we could. It’s just going to be very difficult—and I don’t know if that’s what you’re looking for or want right now, or any time.”
His fingers stopped tracing idle patterns as he let her words sink in.
“You don’t love me, and you’re annoyed with me half the time.”
She felt his body tense and added, “I don’t expect you to love me.”
“You don’t annoy me,” he sighed.
“What you need to do, Marshall, is decide what it is you want. I’m here, if you want me, but not just to please you. You tell me we’re building something, and we’ll try to make things work. You tell me that it was good fun, and we’ll part ways and forget each other. The ball is in your court.”
Marshall drew in a ragged breath. He felt her leaving his arms, saw her stand up, and walk into the bathroom. Once he heard the shower running, he flopped onto his back, attempting to comprehend her words and the ultimatum she handed him.
A relationship—a real one, with emotions, words, and anniversaries—or nothing. Not her friendship, not her lust, absolutely nothing.
In hindsight, he thought, the choice was simple: he didn’t want to give her up—he couldn’t. And since he couldn’t, a relationship seemed far less dangerous than any possibility of one did before. In fact, he felt relieved and almost ecstatic.
She was going to be his—in every way.
With that in mind, he stood up and strutted into the bathroom.
//
Contessa closed her eyes as she felt Marshall’s arms wrap around her wet body.
“We’ll try,” he whispered in her ear.
“Good,” she replied and turned to kiss him.
Chapter 16Author: zines@aol.com
These stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.