Marx Girl

My heart is already taken.

And it’s shit, because he isn’t the type of person who I can bank my whole future on. Even though I desperately wish he was.

Our kiss in the street keeps replaying through my mind.

It was as if my body was coming alive again. I haven’t felt like that for a really, really long time. If I’m completely honest with myself, I’ve not felt like that since Ben left me.

“Do you want to dance?” the girls ask, interrupting my thoughts.

“No. I’m going to take a seat at the bench over there and finish my drink and I’ll meet you on the dance floor in a few minutes,” I lie.

God, I’m way too sober to dance. I take a seat at the small circular table and sip my drink as I watch the girls. I feel my phone vibrate in my bag and I take it out to see it’s a text from Ben.

Hi

I smile sadly and text him back.

Hi.

I stare at my phone and wait for his reply. It doesn’t come, so I put my phone on the table in front of me. Finally, another message comes through.

I feel like I’m going crazy

I text back.

Why?

A reply comes in.

Because I can’t stop thinking about you.

I smile sadly.

That makes two of us.

I watch my phone as I wait for his reply.

You still belong to me, Bridget

And I still belong to you.

My eyes fill with tears and I drop my head. That’s exactly how it feels. I reply.

This is a mess, Ben.

He replies.

I know. Let me fix it

I stare at my phone through my blurred vision until I can no longer even see it. I put my phone down on the table, and I swipe the tears away, hoping nobody can see them in the dark. God, this has been an emotional two days. Finding out about his past, realising I don’t love Eric… or have any chance with anyone else until I get over him.

My beautiful Ben…

My Heaven and my Hell.

I scrunch up my face. I just can’t hold the tears any longer. They roll down my face and I keep wiping them away. I hope the girls don’t see me.

A text comes through.

Don’t cry, baby

I text back.

I can’t help it.

I’m so sad, Ben.

And I’m so mad with you.

A text comes back.

I know. Me, too.

I put my phone down on the table and scramble around in my bag for a tissue. I blow my nose as I think. Hang on… how did he know I was crying? I glance around the other tables, and there at the back, hiding in the darkness… I see him. He sits alone, watching me. He smiles softly and now I really can’t help it. My face screws up again and I find myself walking over to him as he stands.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper.

“I’m here for my girl.”

I stare at him as my brain misfires. “Did you follow me?”

“Yes.” He slowly takes me into his arms and kisses me. My tears wet his cheeks, and this is just my fucking luck that he sees me being a big cry-baby. His tongue gently sweeps between my lips and his hands snake around to my behind.

“Bridget,” he whispers as he holds me tightly in his arms.

This is too much. The feeling between us is too much—much more than it should be. We kiss again and again, and every time his lips leave mine, I only want more. I can feel his erection up against my stomach, and he pulls my behind onto him so that I can really feel it.

We become desperate, frantic in the dark as if we are alone, and our arousal jumps to a new level. He pulls me back to his stool at the table in the darkened corner. He sits on the stool and brings me to stand in between his legs, snug up against his hard cock. Our lips are locked and I can’t see straight, let alone think. His hands slide up my legs, underneath my skirt to rest on my behind. He squeezes my cheeks and inhales sharply. “There’s my girl,” he whispers.

The heat from his touch is electric and my arousal starts to throb heavily between my legs. With every flick of his tongue, his hands slide up and down my behind. I need him to touch me… there.

I lift one of my legs to rest on the stool in invitation, and he smiles against my lips. “You feel so fucking good, Bridge. I’ve waited for this, for you,” he growls in a whisper against my neck as he bites it hard.

Oh, hell. My eyes close in pleasure.

His hand slides up around my inner thigh and his fingers start to circle over my sex, through my panties.

His tongue dances with mine.

I’m wet.

I’m losing control. I want him. I want all of him. His fingers dancing over me just isn’t enough. “Touch me,” I whisper.