Moody Bastard

Before her, on the grass, lay the Figure of a Resting Woman, by Fernando Botero, a beautiful curved woman cast in bronze, appearing to lie upon the grass. Sydney loved her curves, loved every inch of that sculpture. She’d belonged to her father and the look of happiness and satisfaction on her face, as though a man had just made love to her, had always made Sydney wonder what it felt like to feel so adored.

She put her hands on her head and tried to calm down, but her pulse continued pounding in her throat. How could one mere man affect her so much?

The patter of raindrops surprised her, and she glanced up, grateful for the tent above her head as the raindrops continued slapping down harder. She inhaled a long, calming breath—

--and gasped when she was pulled her back living breathing brick wall. She recognized him instantly, all of her senses spun with the combination of his smell and warmth and nearness. This man she had bought and somehow owned her.

Her pulse sped up, the excitement of him being so close causing an instant arousal. She was battling against it when he turned her to face him.

Their eyes met—his nostrils expanded on a breath. He shot her a look of jealousy and possessiveness and lowered his gaze to her lips. She shut her eyes, moaning softly when he dragged his nose down the length of hers. He moaned too, a deep and pained sound as his arms slid around her waist and pulled her close. Their bodies close. Breasts to chest. She wanted to push him away but didn’t seem to have the energy to do so.

And before she could find that energy, Damien covered her lips with his own. Another noise rose up her throat and Damien was there, smothering it with his hot and hungry tongue.

He tightened his hold on her and Sydney’s hand roamed around his shoulders and scratched against his back as they kissed each other as if they were on death’s row.

With fistfuls of his hair in her hands, she returned his kiss with equal fervor. Damien intensified the kiss by sucking on her tongue and fondling her buttocks with his large hands. He even forced her closer to that she could feel his prominent erection against her abdomen. A pool of arousal flooded Sydney’s panties as her pussy swelled in demand for Damien’s member.

They were kissing like mad people when an angry voice cut through the haze, the darkness, the sound of rain and her breathing and Damien’s.

“Look I don’t know who you are—but I don’t like you. And I want you to take your hands off Sydney. Now.”

Damien went utterly still, and Sydney stiffened, her heart pounding even harder, her hands still in his hair, his hands still shamelessly on her buttocks.

Damien didn’t turn to recognize the speaker, to even look at him. He tossed the words past his shoulder in an angry bark. “She doesn’t want me to take my hands off her,” he growled, and before she knew it, he was crushing her mouth again, as though to prove his point, to prove to her that she wanted him. That she belonged to him.

She moaned in pure agony, fighting not to disintegrate under his flaming kiss again, and weakly she pushed at his shoulders, her mind screaming at her not to let Court see this.

r /> “I’m calling the police!” Court shouted.

She tore free, panicked. “No. Court, its fine. It’s fine. It was a mistake, a stupid moment, he was just leaving!”

She met Court’s confused blue gaze, feeling awful to put him in this position, not blind to the way his hands tapped restlessly at his sides, and how he was clearly making an effort to stand there. Stand there and protect her.

Her mouth burned from his kiss, felt swollen and violated by the man who was both her greatest fantasy and her worst nightmare.

Damien straightened, his broad shoulders heaving as he breathed. He scraped the back of a hand across his own wet mouth, his face grim and enraged. The rain was intensifying, pounding above them.

“It means nothing, Court,” Sydney assured in shamed little voice, and Damien whipped his face to hers, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Nothing? He seemed to say, with those eyes.

She could see the rage spread across his eyes until they almost clawed into her like talons, then he curled his hands into fists at his sides, as though preparing to fight.

“Go away!” she spat angrily.

He spun on his heel and walked away, shoving past Court. Her arousal began to calm as soon as he was gone, but as it waned, anger surged within her, so potent she could barely stand it. That bastard. He knew what she’d planned for tonight. She’d told him. Had he just come to ruin her evening?

Was he satisfied over the way she’d fallen into his trap? Was he thrilled that Court had seen this?

“What’s going on, Sydney? Who is that man?” Court asked, sounding hurt and confused.

A ball of emotion gathered at her throat, barely allowing speech. “He’s a man I had a crush on when I was a little girl.”

“The one who made you cry all the time?”

With renewed humiliation, she pursed her swollen lips together as her rising rage continued gathering force.

“The one who only teased you? Who rejected you?” Court continued, sounding genuinely confused.