I want to spank this girl so bad I can taste it. She’s such a little instigator. She flip-flops from being quiet and depressed to sarcastic in about two seconds.
“You’re begging for a spanking, ya know.”
“Just go already.” She’s not even looking at me.
“Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Don’t question me. Just do it.”
She puts the cat gently next to her and stands up, twisting her hair around her finger and chewing her lip.
“Kiss me goodbye.” I soften my voice to ease her nerves.
“I don’t like goodbyes,” she says, her voice thick with sadness.
“I can understand that. Then just kiss me because you like me.”
She peeks up at me beneath her messy bangs. “Maybe I don’t like you.” I know she’s only half teasing, but her words cut me and kill my mood. Which is really different for me, because I don’t like many people and couldn’t give two shits if anyone likes me. But I want her to like me, and even more than that, I want her to want me.
“Hey, I’m used to people not liking me. Join the fucking club.” And with that I leave, slamming the door behind me.
I take the car I keep up here instead of the bike because I can’t cram too much stuff into the saddlebags. On the way to the store I blast some music to try and raise my mood, but it’s not working. Maybe I should just take her home and stop playing with fire with this situation I’ve created. I should not be fucking around with the widow of someone I accidentally killed. It’s pretty much the most fucked-up thing I’ve ever done. Lukas would kill me if he knew, and Storm would have a goddamn coronary. Ash would try to ban me from the fucking planet. Self-righteous assholes.
But this girl … this little broken doll of a girl that used to smile and write silly status updates like “omg! This cookie is amazing!!” she has entranced me. She’s woken my desires and eased some of my pain already. I crave both her dark silence and her sensual innocence. I want to catch her smile with my lips, feel what she feels, see what she sees. I need her to be happy, because I believe it’s contagious and I want her to infect me with it. I don’t want to give her up.
I pick up a few grocery items, some small sweatpants, T-shirts and panties for her, and then wander into the craft store that is conveniently located next door. She’s way too delicate for my usual industrial ropes and chains. Instead, I want to bind her with silk ribbon and long strings of pearls, to tie her beauty within beauty, and then defile her with my ugly darkness just so I can undo it again.
As I drive back to the house, I play last night over in my mind. I’m surprised at how willingly she came with me, and let me touch her. I don’t think I misjudged her in thinking she’s a good girl that doesn’t sleep around. She turned me on like mad. I want to believe that she wanted me just as badly, but I know that’s far from the truth. It must be that she has reached a level of destruction where she wants me to ruin her and is using me to facilitate her own mental demise.
Shit.
Tabitha
The little blind kitten purring on my lap has a therapeutic effect on me, his little internal motor like a lullaby. I gently rub my fingers on his forehead. One would think that a kitten that was tortured and who’d completely lost his eyes would be scared, timid, hiding from people. But he’s not. He’s totally loving and trusting, willing to give life and humans another chance.
I haven’t had a pet since I was a little girl, but this little furball is making me want one. It would be nice to have a sweet cat like this to cuddle with at night, rather than being all alone in the house. I wonder if the guy would let me have him. He really doesn’t seem like the type who would want to have a disabled pet.