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“Emily watches the artist at work. The way he holds his paintbrush, his brow furrowed, his eyes totally focused on his canvas. His right hand moves deftly across the white space, filling it with life. Like pure poetry in motion.”
My lips curl into a smile. I know where the inspiration has come from. There is no point denying the obvious. Perhaps it had not been such a bad idea giving into my animal instincts and having wild passionate sex with bad boy Blake.
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. Images of our hot sweaty bodies flash through my mind. I am reminding myself not to get too attached, when I am annoyed byt a sudden knock on the door.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my heart performs little somersaults as I wonder if it’s Blake knocking. A longing creeps through me and I try not to sprint. I don’t want to appear desperate.
With my most nonchalant look, I open the door. I have my left hand on my hip and smile brightly. I hope there’s not a hint of lust in my eyes.
The second my eyes register who is standing in front of me, I deflate like a balloon. I am about to slam the door, but Dale puts his foot in the way.
“We need to talk.”
I huff. Talk? What a dick. “Piss off.” I snarl and fold both arms. Someone once told me to ward off negative energy other people give off, you should fold your arms in front of your body. It’s worth a shot.
“Kath, please. Babe.”
I hate the way he shortens my name. And he has the nerve to call me babe. Argh. How dare he?
“What do you want Dale?” I realize I won’t get rid of him unless I talk to him. Un-friending him from social media sites and erasing his number was obviously not enough.
He follows me into my apartment.
“Writing again?”
I want to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, but I don’t. Instead, I shrug because I really shouldn’t be so angry, and in fact, I should be thankful. If it had not been for Dale screwing someone else I would never have met Blake, nor would I have had the best sex ever.
At the thought of sex with Blake, a wave of desire washes over me.
“Babe, look,” Dale takes two or three steps toward me. He puts his left hand on my shoulder. With his right hand he strokes my cheek.
His scent of cheap aftershave is almost overpowering. Had I really wanted to spend the rest of my life with him? I must have been deluded.
I cringe at the touch and push his hand away. It simply does not compare to the way Blake touched me. My mind threatens to go off on a frolic of its own. I force myself to focus.
“Get to the point Dale. I’m busy.”
Dale’s expression changes to the hurt puppy look.
“Babe I just want us to give it another go.” Again his hand reaches for me.
This time he pulls me close and before I really know what is happening his lips are on top of mine. I feel his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. He holds me tight with both of his hands now.
I can’t escape the forcefulness of his kiss. He pushes me against the wall of my apartment. My breathing increases. I feel his right hand reach for my breast, squeeze it and then move downward. In no time his hand is under my skirt, pushing my slip aside.
A noise escapes my lips. Dale now presses hard into me and there is no mistaking what he wants. I can feel his erection.
With one hand between my legs, Dale uses his other one to reach for my breast.
This is my moment. I use all my will power to push Dale away. He stumbles.
With lightening speed I put distance between the two of us. I reach for the closest object, a pair of scissors.
“Don’t do that again,” I hiss and pull my skirt down.
I’m surprised at my own reaction. I felt nothing but disgust when Dale groped me. To think a few weeks ago I was dreaming of having children with this man.
“Bitch.” Dale is breathing hard.
