Degradation by Stylo Fantome

hot against his lips. Her loose shirt hung forward and he had a perfect view down her cleavage.
    “What do you want, Kane?” she asked in a low voice. He dragged his eyes away from her tits and stared her in the eye.
    “Call me that name again, and I will punish your mouth,” he warned her. She chuckled.
    “Don't make promises you won't keep,” she retorted.
    Oh my, I may have met my match. This should be interesting.
    “Who says I won't? I have big plans for that mouth,” Jameson said, pinching her chin between his fingers. She rolled her eyes.
    “Not gonna happen, Kane. Not any part of me, is going to touch any part of you, so you had better get used to that idea,” she informed him before pulling away.
    We'll see about that.
    “Alright. But we are going to talk,” he said. She heaved a sigh.
    “Fine. Fine . How about we make an appointment? Say, tomorrow? One o'clock? Does that work for you, my lord and master?” she taunted. He took out his phone.
    “I'm marking it down. Meet me at my office,” he told her. She snorted.
    “Fine, whatever,” she grumbled at him. He glanced up at her.
    “You had better show up. If I have to come get you, you won't like it,” Jameson warned her. Tate laughed.
    “Talk, talk, talk. In my experience, men who talk as much as you, have very little action to back it up,” she said. He laughed as well.
    “You've experienced me in action. And there wasn't very much talking.”
    She rolled her eyes and then grabbed his glass, drinking the rest of his bourbon in one shot.
    “ You put too much emphasis on the past, Kane. It was one time, one time . The great Jameson Kane is hung up on a one night stand? It was nothing, it's long gone. We'll talk about whatever you want tomorrow, and then it's goodbye,” she informed him before walking off. He smirked at her.
    Twice. She called me by my last name twice. Now she really owes me.

~5~
    Tate sat in a chair in an anteroom outside of Jameson's office. She had thought about blowing him off, but she didn't want him showing up at her apartment again. How had he known where she lived, anyway? And he had said he was scared of it – Mr. Prissy Pants had probably never been in a low-rent building.
    Asshole.
    She had no clue what was going on between them. He challenged her, she played his games. She could have walked away from him – the moment he entered that conference room, she could've walked out. When he touched her leg, she could have slapped him. Could have screamed and acted like a scared girl.
    But something about him still got under her skin. There was truth to what Ang had said, her night with Jameson had greatly affected her. It not only set about a major change in her life, but had helped her discover a new side to herself. Tate liked to be treated roughly. She liked to be talked dirty to, liked to be pushed around. Of course, only on her terms, and only by men she liked. She didn't like Jameson Kane, and nothing with him was ever on her terms. He made her nervous. Her made her hot. He confused her.
    “ Ms. O'Shea? ”
    She snapped out of her daze. It was obvious that the secretary had been standing there for a while. Tate smiled and got up, following the woman in to a large office. Jameson didn't spare any expense – large windows with amazing views. Mahogany furniture. Impressive credentials in frames. Was that a real Mark Rothko on the wall!?
    “I figured you would stand me up,” Jameson got out of his chair as the secretary backed out of the room. Tate shrugged and walked forward, flopping in to a chair across from his desk.
    “As cute as stalking is, I figured I'd better nip this in the bud,” she replied. His eyes traveled up and down her form.
    “You look different today. Every time I see you, it's like a different person,” he said. She glanced down at herself. She was wearing wide legged suit pants, ballet flats, and a blouse with puffed, cap sleeves. All black.
    “I'm temping for an upscale salon today. What