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fickle_obsessedThis was all Malcolm’s fault, before him her type had been pretty boys that wore their jeans too tight and more make-up than she did. Boys that looked like they should have a collar around their necks (which some of them did), and wanted to be pushed around and have their hair pulled while she rode them. That was her type, easy and corruptible even, not alpha males in suits capable of destroying someone’s soul with a single look. Malcolm Tucker had the entire UK media wrapped around his little finger, had grown men hiding in toilets for fear of a bollocking, there was nothing about him that suggested he’d be easy to push around, to submit to what she wanted. Course the fact that was exactly what he was like wasn’t the point. It was that powerful side of him she’d been attracted to. In her fantasies he’d always been the one in charge, the one pushing her up against the desk in his office, or bending her over it as he fucked her roughly, murmuring things about how easy she was in her ear.
All of that was a million miles away now. She’d given up on Malcolm years ago. She’d figured she’d go back to her old ways. The pretty boys she could fuck and forget about.
Only now there was Randall - the man with his face and just enough similarities to make her think sleeping with him was a good idea. Randall’s dominance was completely different though - quiet and contained. He didn’t have to demand respect through fear, he just commanded it by his demeanour and reputation. Malcolm was a whirl of passion and righteous indignation, Randall was a stoic old school gentleman you didn’t want to disappoint. His dominance also ran soul deep, something Grey hadn’t expected to like nearly as much as she did.
Malcolm had had his moments, well okay, she’d had her moments when she’d just wanted him like he was at work - commanding and in control, whispering all the things he was going to do to her in that unbelievably creative and obscene way he had. It was always on her terms though, always her that told him what she wanted when she wanted it. With Randall it had been a way to make him more comfortable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give up control, but that he literally couldn’t and they’d stopped trying to get him to after their first attempt. Now things were on his terms, with her complete agreement, of course, even submissive Grey really wasn’t the type to be taken advantage of. They had safe words, not that she’d ever needed them, Randall was far too attentive for that, too focused on exactly what he was doing and how she was reacting, even when he couldn’t see her face. He could read her like a book, it was annoying really, how he always knew just when to stop when all she wanted was for him to carry on.
All of that was a million miles away now. She’d given up on Malcolm years ago. She’d figured she’d go back to her old ways. The pretty boys she could fuck and forget about.
Only now there was Randall - the man with his face and just enough similarities to make her think sleeping with him was a good idea. Randall’s dominance was completely different though - quiet and contained. He didn’t have to demand respect through fear, he just commanded it by his demeanour and reputation. Malcolm was a whirl of passion and righteous indignation, Randall was a stoic old school gentleman you didn’t want to disappoint. His dominance also ran soul deep, something Grey hadn’t expected to like nearly as much as she did.
Malcolm had had his moments, well okay, she’d had her moments when she’d just wanted him like he was at work - commanding and in control, whispering all the things he was going to do to her in that unbelievably creative and obscene way he had. It was always on her terms though, always her that told him what she wanted when she wanted it. With Randall it had been a way to make him more comfortable. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to give up control, but that he literally couldn’t and they’d stopped trying to get him to after their first attempt. Now things were on his terms, with her complete agreement, of course, even submissive Grey really wasn’t the type to be taken advantage of. They had safe words, not that she’d ever needed them, Randall was far too attentive for that, too focused on exactly what he was doing and how she was reacting, even when he couldn’t see her face. He could read her like a book, it was annoying really, how he always knew just when to stop when all she wanted was for him to carry on.
