SydneyBlake
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Feb 13, 2011
- Posts
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Hi, and thanks for taking a look at my post. I hope you'll be willing to provide some feedback, too.
Writing arguments is not my strong suit, so I've been struggling with this one scene for at least a week. I think I've finally finished it, more or less, save a few minor edits, so would you mind reading it and telling me what you think?
Thank you in advance!!!
First, a small preview from a previous scene, and then the argument. The argument is between a husband and wife, Derek and Renata. Derek wants to spice up their marriage, but Renata isn't interested in what he has in mind....
*****************
Actually, Derek hadn’t complained about much of anything since they’d hooked up with Sherry. And why would he? Sherry was part of his birthday wish, his fantasy-come-true: to have two women at once. Renata hadn’t been very enthusiastic about the idea at first, but Derek persisted, and Sherry turned out to be really nice.
Still, as much as she liked Sherry, Renata would have been just as happy to have kept other people out of their bedroom. Derek was all that she really wanted, so she couldn’t understand why Derek had wanted more. Why wasn’t she enough? That little question bothered her. She tried to ignore it, but the truth was that it had bothered her for a while.
***
There was nothing like pulling up to the apartment and seeing two blue-jeaned asses hanging out of the engine of a ’75 Corvette convertible. The ‘Vette. The real other woman in Derek’s life. He spent all his spare time with his hands in that engine, not to mention all their spare money.
One ass looked very familiar. The other, not so much, but it probably belonged to Neil, Derek’s buddy from work. Neil had been helping Derek with the engine rebuild for months.
“Hey, baby,” Renata said as she walked through the open garage. She ran her hand along her husband’s backside.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Derek said.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Neil said, “Where’s my grope? Don’t I get a grope?”
“You gotta grow a dick, first,” Derek grunted.
“I have a dick!” Neil yelled, “Hey, Ren, I have a dick!”
“I’m so happy for you, Neil.” What a fuck-up. Renata didn’t want to stand around, discussing Neil’s genitalia. She wanted to get off her feet.
“We got the new carburetor in,” Derek called, but she had already gone inside.
Stepping over Derek’s abandoned pair of Nikes just inside the door, walking past a dining table stacked with car parts, and pushing aside a pile of laundry on the couch before sitting down, Renata collapsed. Then she kicked off her shoes, used a bare foot to push aside Derek’s abandoned dishes from lunch, and propped her feet up on the coffee table. If she had the energy, she’d complain about the mess, but what was the point of that? To start a fight? No. No fights today. She just wanted fifteen minutes to decompress, and then she’d start dinner.
“You okay?” Derek asked as he sauntered in the door. He was wiping his hands on a red shop towel, but there was nothing to be done about the rest of him, short of a full shower – grease-stained t-shirt, grease stained blue jeans, and various smudges on his arms and face. He’d no doubt been working on the car all day.
“Sure. Just tired.” She turned the TV on, even though there was nothing she really wanted to watch. It was more for noise than anything else.
He came around in front of her and picked her feet up so he could sit down on the corner of the table. He set her feet in his lap and began to massage them. “I got her running,” he said with a crooked smile.
Renata groaned as he worked the kinks out of her tired extremities. “Cool,” she muttered.
“I’ll pick up the living room in a bit.”
“Um hm.”
“I love a woman who’s putty in my hands.”
She cracked open an eye and looked at him. He was still smiling at her with that lop-sided grin, and with mischievous green eyes that so resembled her own.
“Hard day?” he asked.
“The usual.”
“Maybe you should transfer to another department. You’ve been in the ER a long time.”
“I know,” she whined, “But I like the ER.”
“I know you do, but it wears you out.”
She held up her middle finger.
“Don’t you flip me off, woman,” he laughed, “Or I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your ass.”
She smiled. “Later.”
“Um hm. You want me to go pick up something for dinner?”
“No, we have chicken in the fridge that needs to be cooked before it goes bad. Is Neil staying?” Please say no.
“No. I want you to myself.”
Renata smiled, “Mmm.”
“We’re cleaning up outside,” he said. He put her feet back on the table, kissed her cheek, and headed back to the garage. She watched her husband’s wiry, five-foot-ten frame as he walked away with his usual smartass swagger. His honey-streaked hair was too long, grazing the tops of his square shoulders, and, for some reason, he really did it for her. Even after all these years.
Soon, the small apartment was full of the aromas of grilling chicken breasts, asparagus spears, and pan-seared potatoes. Renata was standing in front of the fridge, deciding on which wine to serve, when she felt the warmth of Derek’s body against her back. Fresh from the shower, he smelled like deodorant soap. She felt his fingers pushing her hair aside, and his lips on her ear. “If we ever get the same day off,” he said, “We’ll have to take the ‘Vette for a ride up the coast.”
“Is that bitch finally going to start paying her way?” Renata asked playfully.
“I hope so,” he said. He reached past her and grabbed a potato and popped it in his mouth. “Are we about ready to eat? I’m starving.”
“Just a few minutes,” she said. She watched him out of the corner of her eye while she prepared their plates. He’d thrown on a clean t-shirt and a pair of gray cut-off sweatpants, and he was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at the TV while he scratched his flat belly. The pants barely hung onto his narrow hips, and a thin line of brown curls that started at his navel disappeared into the loose waistband.
She wanted to follow that little patch of curls. It wouldn’t take much, just a hand to his crotch and he’d be ready to go. She liked that about him, his always being on call at a moment’s notice.
But they were both hungry, and dinner would get cold if she did that. It would have to wait until later. She handed him his plate and a glass of white wine, and he retreated to the living room.
“Man, Ren, this is good,” Derek said as he shoved a huge chunk of chicken into his mouth. With the dining table overcome with auto parts, they’d grown accustomed to sitting on the couch in front of the TV. A rerun of Two-and-a-Half Men was playing.
As she rounded the corner to take her seat on the couch, her eye caught the mess on the dining table. “If you’re done with the ‘Vette, do you think I could have my table back? It would be nice to eat like normal people.”
“Actually,” Derek said, “I think this is the new normal.”
“This is not normal. I go through the trouble of cooking a nice meal, and I just think it would be nice to sit down and enjoy it the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed.” There she was, complaining when she’d told herself earlier that she wouldn’t.
“You’re right,” he said, “I’ll get you your table. Tomorrow.”
She didn’t trust completely that it would happen, but she did know that he meant it. It was just that when Derek got absorbed into something, like the Corvette, he tended to lose sight of anything else. She decided to make small talk rather than pursue a clean table further. “So what did Neil have to say? Anything interesting that didn’t involve his privates? Is he still dating that girl in Oakland?”
“Yeah. He was heading to her house when he left.”
“I’m surprised she puts up with him.”
“Neil’s okay.”
“I know he’s your friend, but he’s not too sharp. I don’t think I’d ever consider him boyfriend material.”
“Maybe not, but he knows cars. I wouldn’t have gotten that engine running if it hadn’t been for him.”
“So if I get my table back, I have Neil to thank?”
“Only if I get to watch.”
Of course, Derek’s idea of expressing gratitude would involve something sexual -- there was a reason why he and Renata got along so well. But the thought of screwing Neil was not appealing for several reasons, not the least of them being that he wasn’t Derek. “No, thank you.”
“What’s wrong with Neil?”
“You would really want to watch Neil with me? Ew.”
He smiled. “I’ve watched you with Sherry. You don’t seem to mind that.”
“That’s different. For starters, she’s not Neil.”
“Okay, it wouldn’t have to be Neil. You could pick.”
Renata sighed tiredly. “You can’t be serious.” Why were they having this discussion again? How did they go from small talk back to this?
“You wouldn’t want to do that for me?” he asked.
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because it would be hot.”
“I think we have plenty of hot.” Seriously, how many women at work did she hear grumble that they just didn’t need sex anymore? Meanwhile, she was counting the hours when she could get home to Derek. Did he just not know how lucky he was?
“That, we do.” Derek stared at the TV, but his mind was somewhere else. “That was fun last night. Did you ever think you’d do a chick?”
“That’s really just for you, you know.” She avoided telling him that yes, there were some women that she found attractive. The point was that it wasn’t something she would have ever acted upon if it hadn’t been for him.
“And I appreciate it,” he said.
Did he?
He put his empty plate on the table and slid closer to her. He leaned in and kissed her neck. He was warm and damp, and his jaw was rough with whiskers. He whispered between kisses, “But don’t tell me you do that just for me. You get off on it as much as I do.”
“Maybe,” she sighed. Maybe he annoyed the hell out of her sometimes, but she never ceased to love his touch. He continued nuzzling her neck, kissing and nibbling her skin. She felt that warm, tingling sensation start to spread through her body. God, she’d wanted him since she’d walked in the door.
“Think about it,” he said huskily as his hand started to slide up her leg. “You could ride some stud, knowing you’re driving me nuts.”
“But you’re the stud I want.” The thought of having him inside her again was getting her excited.
“You have me. You could have him, too. You need to see the email.”
Mention of an email sent her libido into a code. “What email?” This was not good.
He was either unaware of the chill emanating from her, or trying to overcome it. He was still kissing her, and his voice was low and sexy. “The one we got today,” he said, “From a couple in Oakland. They want to meet us.”
She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Why are we getting emails? I thought we suspended that account since we found Sherry.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Well, I wanted to see if we’d get any bites.” He tried to lean into her again.
Renata pushed him away again. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? Come on, Ren, you promised.”
“I promised to try a threesome. We’ve done a threesome.”
“And look how much you like it.”
“I like Sherry. I’m not interested in fucking the entire Bay Area. You said you’d suspended that account. You promised me that you did.” Looking for any reason to escape him, she grabbed the dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen, where she nearly threw them into the sink.
“I’m just talking about--“
“I know what you’re talking about,” she yelled from the kitchen, even though she was only a few yards behind him, “You’re afraid you’ve missed out on something because we married so young. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Well, don’t you ever feel that way?” He got up and followed her.
“No, I don’t.” She was swinging open the dishwasher, jerking the trays out, and nearly throwing the dishes inside. “What do I have to fucking do, Derek?” she snapped.
“You never think about sex with other guys?” He was trying to sooth her. He slid in behind her, pressed himself against her ass, and slid his hands down her hips.
But she was not having any of it. “I may be attracted to other guys. That doesn’t mean I want to screw them. My God, Derek!” She spun around and pushed him away.
“You wouldn’t even do it for me?” He leaned into her again.
“Why? Why would you want me to?” She was not going to cry. Do not cry. Fucking do not cry.
“’Cuz it would be hot to watch.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Oh, rent a porn, for God’s sake.” She pushed him away again.
“To watch you.” He put his hands on her hips and slid them down her buttocks. “To watch you move the way you move. To watch you come.”
She’d had enough. She pushed him away, and before she could even think about it, her hand instinctively slapped his face. A bright red handprint instantly appeared on his cheek. “Snap out of it, Derek! I’m tired of this shit!”
Derek’s eyes narrowed and his face reddened. Anger. Finally. “No, I’m the one’s who’s tired of this shit.” He abruptly turned away from her and marched for the door, grabbing his Nikes and his keys on the way out. The door slammed behind him, and then she heard the roar of the Stingray’s engine as he started it up and left.
She finally felt her own rage start to bubble up and boil over. Why did he want this? Why did he want this? Fucking asshole!
She would hit something if she thought it would do any good, but it never did, she just wound up hurting herself.
Fucking asshole.
She swung open the bottom cabinet door, grabbed the bottle of dish soap, and squeezed some into the machine. Then she slammed the door shut and pressed the start button.
Fucking asshole.
She shoved the plug into the drain, slammed on the hot water, and poured some cleaner in. When she got pissed off, she cleaned. This fucking apartment was going to be so fucking clean, it would fucking sparkle.
“You’d better be careful what you fucking wish for,” she growled. What she meant, she wasn’t really sure. She just had the vague feeling that his seeing her with another man would not bring him the high he was looking for, but it would bring tremendous grief, for which she would pay the price.
She’d already told him that, too. But just like before, he kept coming back to it. And since she eventually gave on the first, he had no reason to believe that she wouldn’t give on this one. He just had to pitch enough fits.
So how many fights were they going to have to have before he would drop it forever? And would she be able to stick it out for that long?
****AN ALTERNATE ENDING IS GIVEN IN ANOTHER POST (#11, I THINK)****
Two hours later, she was lying in bed, but wide awake. She heard the back door close, Derek’s keys drop on the table, and then he was quietly crawling across the bed behind her. “Ren? I’m a dick. I’m sorry.” She felt his hand on her arm.
“Why have you gone off on this?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just thought it would be fun. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She rolled over onto her back to face him. “Aren’t we okay? We aren’t broken, are we?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He kissed her.
She wanted to be mad at him. He deserved it. She shouldn’t reward him with sex. She shouldn’t. But she still wanted him. She needed him. She needed his warmth, his touch, to feel him beside her, on top of her, inside her, possessing her. So she softened her mouth and welcomed his kiss.
As their kiss grew more passionate, he slid his hand beneath her cami and found her nipple and began to tweak it with his fingers. “I love you, baby,” he said.
“I love you, too.”
Writing arguments is not my strong suit, so I've been struggling with this one scene for at least a week. I think I've finally finished it, more or less, save a few minor edits, so would you mind reading it and telling me what you think?
Thank you in advance!!!
First, a small preview from a previous scene, and then the argument. The argument is between a husband and wife, Derek and Renata. Derek wants to spice up their marriage, but Renata isn't interested in what he has in mind....
*****************
Actually, Derek hadn’t complained about much of anything since they’d hooked up with Sherry. And why would he? Sherry was part of his birthday wish, his fantasy-come-true: to have two women at once. Renata hadn’t been very enthusiastic about the idea at first, but Derek persisted, and Sherry turned out to be really nice.
Still, as much as she liked Sherry, Renata would have been just as happy to have kept other people out of their bedroom. Derek was all that she really wanted, so she couldn’t understand why Derek had wanted more. Why wasn’t she enough? That little question bothered her. She tried to ignore it, but the truth was that it had bothered her for a while.
***
There was nothing like pulling up to the apartment and seeing two blue-jeaned asses hanging out of the engine of a ’75 Corvette convertible. The ‘Vette. The real other woman in Derek’s life. He spent all his spare time with his hands in that engine, not to mention all their spare money.
One ass looked very familiar. The other, not so much, but it probably belonged to Neil, Derek’s buddy from work. Neil had been helping Derek with the engine rebuild for months.
“Hey, baby,” Renata said as she walked through the open garage. She ran her hand along her husband’s backside.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Derek said.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Neil said, “Where’s my grope? Don’t I get a grope?”
“You gotta grow a dick, first,” Derek grunted.
“I have a dick!” Neil yelled, “Hey, Ren, I have a dick!”
“I’m so happy for you, Neil.” What a fuck-up. Renata didn’t want to stand around, discussing Neil’s genitalia. She wanted to get off her feet.
“We got the new carburetor in,” Derek called, but she had already gone inside.
Stepping over Derek’s abandoned pair of Nikes just inside the door, walking past a dining table stacked with car parts, and pushing aside a pile of laundry on the couch before sitting down, Renata collapsed. Then she kicked off her shoes, used a bare foot to push aside Derek’s abandoned dishes from lunch, and propped her feet up on the coffee table. If she had the energy, she’d complain about the mess, but what was the point of that? To start a fight? No. No fights today. She just wanted fifteen minutes to decompress, and then she’d start dinner.
“You okay?” Derek asked as he sauntered in the door. He was wiping his hands on a red shop towel, but there was nothing to be done about the rest of him, short of a full shower – grease-stained t-shirt, grease stained blue jeans, and various smudges on his arms and face. He’d no doubt been working on the car all day.
“Sure. Just tired.” She turned the TV on, even though there was nothing she really wanted to watch. It was more for noise than anything else.
He came around in front of her and picked her feet up so he could sit down on the corner of the table. He set her feet in his lap and began to massage them. “I got her running,” he said with a crooked smile.
Renata groaned as he worked the kinks out of her tired extremities. “Cool,” she muttered.
“I’ll pick up the living room in a bit.”
“Um hm.”
“I love a woman who’s putty in my hands.”
She cracked open an eye and looked at him. He was still smiling at her with that lop-sided grin, and with mischievous green eyes that so resembled her own.
“Hard day?” he asked.
“The usual.”
“Maybe you should transfer to another department. You’ve been in the ER a long time.”
“I know,” she whined, “But I like the ER.”
“I know you do, but it wears you out.”
She held up her middle finger.
“Don’t you flip me off, woman,” he laughed, “Or I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your ass.”
She smiled. “Later.”
“Um hm. You want me to go pick up something for dinner?”
“No, we have chicken in the fridge that needs to be cooked before it goes bad. Is Neil staying?” Please say no.
“No. I want you to myself.”
Renata smiled, “Mmm.”
“We’re cleaning up outside,” he said. He put her feet back on the table, kissed her cheek, and headed back to the garage. She watched her husband’s wiry, five-foot-ten frame as he walked away with his usual smartass swagger. His honey-streaked hair was too long, grazing the tops of his square shoulders, and, for some reason, he really did it for her. Even after all these years.
Soon, the small apartment was full of the aromas of grilling chicken breasts, asparagus spears, and pan-seared potatoes. Renata was standing in front of the fridge, deciding on which wine to serve, when she felt the warmth of Derek’s body against her back. Fresh from the shower, he smelled like deodorant soap. She felt his fingers pushing her hair aside, and his lips on her ear. “If we ever get the same day off,” he said, “We’ll have to take the ‘Vette for a ride up the coast.”
“Is that bitch finally going to start paying her way?” Renata asked playfully.
“I hope so,” he said. He reached past her and grabbed a potato and popped it in his mouth. “Are we about ready to eat? I’m starving.”
“Just a few minutes,” she said. She watched him out of the corner of her eye while she prepared their plates. He’d thrown on a clean t-shirt and a pair of gray cut-off sweatpants, and he was standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at the TV while he scratched his flat belly. The pants barely hung onto his narrow hips, and a thin line of brown curls that started at his navel disappeared into the loose waistband.
She wanted to follow that little patch of curls. It wouldn’t take much, just a hand to his crotch and he’d be ready to go. She liked that about him, his always being on call at a moment’s notice.
But they were both hungry, and dinner would get cold if she did that. It would have to wait until later. She handed him his plate and a glass of white wine, and he retreated to the living room.
“Man, Ren, this is good,” Derek said as he shoved a huge chunk of chicken into his mouth. With the dining table overcome with auto parts, they’d grown accustomed to sitting on the couch in front of the TV. A rerun of Two-and-a-Half Men was playing.
As she rounded the corner to take her seat on the couch, her eye caught the mess on the dining table. “If you’re done with the ‘Vette, do you think I could have my table back? It would be nice to eat like normal people.”
“Actually,” Derek said, “I think this is the new normal.”
“This is not normal. I go through the trouble of cooking a nice meal, and I just think it would be nice to sit down and enjoy it the way it’s supposed to be enjoyed.” There she was, complaining when she’d told herself earlier that she wouldn’t.
“You’re right,” he said, “I’ll get you your table. Tomorrow.”
She didn’t trust completely that it would happen, but she did know that he meant it. It was just that when Derek got absorbed into something, like the Corvette, he tended to lose sight of anything else. She decided to make small talk rather than pursue a clean table further. “So what did Neil have to say? Anything interesting that didn’t involve his privates? Is he still dating that girl in Oakland?”
“Yeah. He was heading to her house when he left.”
“I’m surprised she puts up with him.”
“Neil’s okay.”
“I know he’s your friend, but he’s not too sharp. I don’t think I’d ever consider him boyfriend material.”
“Maybe not, but he knows cars. I wouldn’t have gotten that engine running if it hadn’t been for him.”
“So if I get my table back, I have Neil to thank?”
“Only if I get to watch.”
Of course, Derek’s idea of expressing gratitude would involve something sexual -- there was a reason why he and Renata got along so well. But the thought of screwing Neil was not appealing for several reasons, not the least of them being that he wasn’t Derek. “No, thank you.”
“What’s wrong with Neil?”
“You would really want to watch Neil with me? Ew.”
He smiled. “I’ve watched you with Sherry. You don’t seem to mind that.”
“That’s different. For starters, she’s not Neil.”
“Okay, it wouldn’t have to be Neil. You could pick.”
Renata sighed tiredly. “You can’t be serious.” Why were they having this discussion again? How did they go from small talk back to this?
“You wouldn’t want to do that for me?” he asked.
“Why would you want me to do that?”
“Because it would be hot.”
“I think we have plenty of hot.” Seriously, how many women at work did she hear grumble that they just didn’t need sex anymore? Meanwhile, she was counting the hours when she could get home to Derek. Did he just not know how lucky he was?
“That, we do.” Derek stared at the TV, but his mind was somewhere else. “That was fun last night. Did you ever think you’d do a chick?”
“That’s really just for you, you know.” She avoided telling him that yes, there were some women that she found attractive. The point was that it wasn’t something she would have ever acted upon if it hadn’t been for him.
“And I appreciate it,” he said.
Did he?
He put his empty plate on the table and slid closer to her. He leaned in and kissed her neck. He was warm and damp, and his jaw was rough with whiskers. He whispered between kisses, “But don’t tell me you do that just for me. You get off on it as much as I do.”
“Maybe,” she sighed. Maybe he annoyed the hell out of her sometimes, but she never ceased to love his touch. He continued nuzzling her neck, kissing and nibbling her skin. She felt that warm, tingling sensation start to spread through her body. God, she’d wanted him since she’d walked in the door.
“Think about it,” he said huskily as his hand started to slide up her leg. “You could ride some stud, knowing you’re driving me nuts.”
“But you’re the stud I want.” The thought of having him inside her again was getting her excited.
“You have me. You could have him, too. You need to see the email.”
Mention of an email sent her libido into a code. “What email?” This was not good.
He was either unaware of the chill emanating from her, or trying to overcome it. He was still kissing her, and his voice was low and sexy. “The one we got today,” he said, “From a couple in Oakland. They want to meet us.”
She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “Why are we getting emails? I thought we suspended that account since we found Sherry.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Well, I wanted to see if we’d get any bites.” He tried to lean into her again.
Renata pushed him away again. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? Come on, Ren, you promised.”
“I promised to try a threesome. We’ve done a threesome.”
“And look how much you like it.”
“I like Sherry. I’m not interested in fucking the entire Bay Area. You said you’d suspended that account. You promised me that you did.” Looking for any reason to escape him, she grabbed the dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen, where she nearly threw them into the sink.
“I’m just talking about--“
“I know what you’re talking about,” she yelled from the kitchen, even though she was only a few yards behind him, “You’re afraid you’ve missed out on something because we married so young. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“Well, don’t you ever feel that way?” He got up and followed her.
“No, I don’t.” She was swinging open the dishwasher, jerking the trays out, and nearly throwing the dishes inside. “What do I have to fucking do, Derek?” she snapped.
“You never think about sex with other guys?” He was trying to sooth her. He slid in behind her, pressed himself against her ass, and slid his hands down her hips.
But she was not having any of it. “I may be attracted to other guys. That doesn’t mean I want to screw them. My God, Derek!” She spun around and pushed him away.
“You wouldn’t even do it for me?” He leaned into her again.
“Why? Why would you want me to?” She was not going to cry. Do not cry. Fucking do not cry.
“’Cuz it would be hot to watch.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Oh, rent a porn, for God’s sake.” She pushed him away again.
“To watch you.” He put his hands on her hips and slid them down her buttocks. “To watch you move the way you move. To watch you come.”
She’d had enough. She pushed him away, and before she could even think about it, her hand instinctively slapped his face. A bright red handprint instantly appeared on his cheek. “Snap out of it, Derek! I’m tired of this shit!”
Derek’s eyes narrowed and his face reddened. Anger. Finally. “No, I’m the one’s who’s tired of this shit.” He abruptly turned away from her and marched for the door, grabbing his Nikes and his keys on the way out. The door slammed behind him, and then she heard the roar of the Stingray’s engine as he started it up and left.
She finally felt her own rage start to bubble up and boil over. Why did he want this? Why did he want this? Fucking asshole!
She would hit something if she thought it would do any good, but it never did, she just wound up hurting herself.
Fucking asshole.
She swung open the bottom cabinet door, grabbed the bottle of dish soap, and squeezed some into the machine. Then she slammed the door shut and pressed the start button.
Fucking asshole.
She shoved the plug into the drain, slammed on the hot water, and poured some cleaner in. When she got pissed off, she cleaned. This fucking apartment was going to be so fucking clean, it would fucking sparkle.
“You’d better be careful what you fucking wish for,” she growled. What she meant, she wasn’t really sure. She just had the vague feeling that his seeing her with another man would not bring him the high he was looking for, but it would bring tremendous grief, for which she would pay the price.
She’d already told him that, too. But just like before, he kept coming back to it. And since she eventually gave on the first, he had no reason to believe that she wouldn’t give on this one. He just had to pitch enough fits.
So how many fights were they going to have to have before he would drop it forever? And would she be able to stick it out for that long?
****AN ALTERNATE ENDING IS GIVEN IN ANOTHER POST (#11, I THINK)****
Two hours later, she was lying in bed, but wide awake. She heard the back door close, Derek’s keys drop on the table, and then he was quietly crawling across the bed behind her. “Ren? I’m a dick. I’m sorry.” She felt his hand on her arm.
“Why have you gone off on this?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I just thought it would be fun. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She rolled over onto her back to face him. “Aren’t we okay? We aren’t broken, are we?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He kissed her.
She wanted to be mad at him. He deserved it. She shouldn’t reward him with sex. She shouldn’t. But she still wanted him. She needed him. She needed his warmth, his touch, to feel him beside her, on top of her, inside her, possessing her. So she softened her mouth and welcomed his kiss.
As their kiss grew more passionate, he slid his hand beneath her cami and found her nipple and began to tweak it with his fingers. “I love you, baby,” he said.
“I love you, too.”
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