“Oh come on, baby. I saw the way you looked at me at the wedding.” He pins me against the van, grinding his erection into my hip. I’m struggling against him but his grip is firm. Really firm. “You still want this. I can tell.”
“Are you insane? Get the fuck off me!” I yell, whipping my head from side to side at the dead street around us. Figures, any other time of day people are bustling up and down the sidewalks. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I know you prefer married men now. Give it up, baby. It’s all good. Sara apparently likes to fuck around behind my back, so I can do the same to her.” His breath reeks of alcohol and my shoulders begin to burn where he’s squeezing me, pressing my body into the side of my van. He runs his tongue over my ear and I buck against him. “Still sweet.”
I continue pushing against his chest, trying to back him off a bit. “You’re disgusting. I’m not interested. I’ll never be interested again. Fuck, you’re hurting me, Justin. Let go!” His fingers are digging into my skin and I want to cry but I somehow manage to hold it in. I’ve cried enough over this asshole.
He pulls me towards him and then slams me once more against the van, this time knocking the air out of my lungs and dropping me to my knees. I fall over onto my side, gasping for air as he bends down and leans his face into mine. “Your loss,” he whispers and storms away as I finally take in enough air to calm my screaming lungs. I cough and wheeze, clutching at my chest as I struggle to pull myself up onto my feet. What the fuck? What just happened? Justin turned psychotic, that’s what happened. My entire body is in pain and I want to go back inside and nurse my wounds but I can’t.
“Fucking hell,” I whimper as I climb into Sam and start him up. I pull the visor down and quickly try to recover my appearance so that I don’t look like I just got molested in the street. My hair is a mess, completely unraveled from my bun and my face is streaked with makeup. I wipe under my eyes, removing my mascara, and clean up the rest of my face. Peeling my top down to reveal my shoulder, I wince at the bright red fingertip sized marks that are highly visible. “Jesus Christ. That fucking prick.” I pull my shirt back up and cover them up quickly, resting my head back and taking in several slow deep breaths. That bastard. I’m going to dismember him the next time I see him. I shake my head and fix my hair. I can’t deal with this right now; I have a job to do and I need to fucking do it. I push the events that just transpired out of my mind and pull away from the curb and to a wedding where hopefully, the only dick the bride will be sucking will be her husband’s.
Eight
Everything involving the cake delivery went smoothly. Everything except for what happened before the actual cake delivery. Soaking my sore muscles in my tub, I run through the events that transpired several hours ago in my head. Justin was never aggressive with me when we were together. He never put his hands on me like that before. So I can only chalk up his fucked up behavior to him discovering his wife’s wedding indiscretions and dealing with it like a lunatic. I find it rather perfect that he’s getting what he deserves, as long as he doesn’t deal with it at my expense. One thing is for sure, if he touches me again, he won’t have a dick to cheat on his wife with. I’ll cut that shit off and make him eat it.
My phone beeps and I sit up in the tub, pulling it off the sink and reading the message.
Reese: We still on for 8:00p.m, love?
I sigh heavily and stare at his message. I’m beyond excited to spend the evening with Reese, but I don’t want him to see the hideous marks that grace the skin of my shoulders and my upper back now. And spending time with him and not fucking is going to be a challenge. Of course, I could convince him to do clothes on fucking like we did at the wedding. That was still insanely hot. I nod at my decision as I type.
Me: We better be. I’m in the tub right now getting ready for you.
Reese: Prove it.
So many options here. I slump down so that the tops of my knees are sexily poking out of the water and press them against each other. I take a quick picture and send it to him.
Reese: I love those legs. Especially when they’re wrapped around my head.
Me: I especially love that too. Now stop distracting me. I have an incredibly hot CPA coming over in less than an hour.
Reese: Lucky bastard.
I dress in my favorite pair of skinny jeans that make my ass look higher and tighter, a tight black T-shirt that has a wickedly plunging neckline, and my black pumps. For casual wear, I have to say that I am looking pretty doable. My wavy blond hair falls smoothly past my shoulders and I stick with minimal makeup tonight, just some tinted moisturizer, mascara, and some lip gloss. A soft tapping on the glass door downstairs sends me carefully hurrying down the stairs and through the kitchen, stopping in the doorway at the sight of my date in the window. Shit, not a date. Not a date, Dylan.