“Already working on it but here you are.”
He wipes at his mouth and steps over to me. “I felt awful for the way I treated you earlier. But maybe I shouldn’t have.”
I lick the inside of my cheek and bite down on my tongue momentarily in an effort to distract myself from the urge of slapping him. Once the urge dies down slightly, I step toward him, keeping my gaze locked on his. “I'm a woman who knows how to provide and standup for herself. If you can’t handle that, then maybe it’s a good thing you were only looking to fuck. Anything else would only end up with your heart broken.”
“Oh really?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “You think you have the power to break me?”
“I don’t think it, I know it. Men who can’t handle a strong woman but pursue them anyway, always end up broken in the end. Sure, you would tell all your friends that I was just some bitch, that you kicked me to the curb because you couldn’t handle my attitude. When deep down, you’ll know that it’s because you couldn’t control me like all the others.”
“You don’t know my fucking past,” he hisses. There’s a true flare of rage in his eyes then.
“What’s the matter? Did I touch a nerve?” I ask in a sort of mock pout.
“Yes,” he lets out through gritted teeth.
I lean up on my tiptoes to get in his face. “Good. Then maybe you know what it feels like now.” I don’t elaborate because I don’t have to. Even though assuming about his romantic habits and past isn’t the same as feeling like you’ve been used for sex, at least he can experience a taste of the anger I've felt.
“It’s not the same,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t move his face away from mine.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I remark. “It only has to be enough to ruin the rest of your night.”
“Spoiled brat,” he spits.
“Manipulative jackass,” I fire back.
We are staring one another down, as though we are in a game of chicken; whoever breaks the glare first, loses. And yet, the longer we are looking into one another’s eyes, the thicker the atmosphere seems to get. I don’t know what’s coming over me, but I find myself looking at his lips. Hot flashes of the encounters the two of us have had, come flooding back to me. How soft his lips are, how phenomenal they feel between my legs, and the sounds of the panting breaths that pass by them as we connect as one.
When I look back up to his eyes, I catch him staring at my lips. I shouldn’t. He’s been a complete asshole and the last thing that needs to happen is to continue this strange and toxic… thing between us. And yet, when his eyes lift back to mine, I'm out of control of myself. I crash into him as he pulls me in simultaneously. Our lips collide like two stars in one another’s orbit. It could have gone wrong, formed a void between us that we would never again be able to fill. Maybe it should have been. It should have felt like nothing so that we could go our separate ways and put an end to all this.
But it didn’t. It’s a cosmic explosion of passion and desire. It’s as violent as it is beautiful. My body screams out for his instantaneously. Emanuel’s hands venture down to the backs of my thighs and hoist me up to his hips. He’s carrying me back to his place, which I soon find out is literally just a few doors down from where we ran into one another. I’m not sure if it’s ironic, funny, or fate— but I know right now, it doesn’t matter.
His body pins mine to his doorframe as he fumbles with the keys. Our lips haven’t left one another’s, our tongues tangling together as he finally unlocks the door. When he sets me down, we are immediately disrobing. Never before have I felt so in need of physical touch. Clothes litter his floor on the way to the bathroom, as it seems to be an unspoken agreement that we need to rinse off too. We step into his massive stone and glass shower together, my hand stroking his member a bit roughly as he reaches around me to cut the water on.
Even though my center is crying out for attention, my mind has other ideas. I want to fuck him, sure, but I want to make him beg for it. It’s the least he can do after the way he treated me today. He grabs soap and we lather one another as we make out. It’s making me second guess my plan, my body eagerly responding to even the slightest of touches. He rubs between my legs, his touch slick with soap and water. I can hear how quick is breathing is becoming from how turned on he is. With the same slippery touch as him, I continue to slowly massage his shaft.