Stella is taking all my time, all my creativity. So, I worked my own challenge into today’s word count, and am posting this excerpt as my Friday Flash. Even though it isn’t flash at all! LOL Can I break my own rules? 😉
He looked at her. “Where are you going?”
Everything in her wanted to leave the house, to find Charlie. That’s what she wanted. That’s what her instinct said. But cowardice was stronger. There was no momentum behind her for such a move. “I don’t know why you care.”
“Of course I care! Come back to bed. Please.”
“So you can continue ignoring it. Me? Shame on me for that.”
“You want me to fuck you? I’ll fuck you.” And he was across the room and had her by the arms. His mouth was on hers, and it was hard and cruel. His erection pressed into her thigh, and the tigress stood, watched. She found herself fighting him. Pushing him away. He was something more than angry when his eyes met hers. “I don’t fucking get you, Stella.”
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
“What, you want to take the lead? You want me on my knees? That’s what does it for you, isn’t it?” His eyes flashed as he dropped to carpet at her feet. “You want a cunt. A weakling. You want me begging and soft.”
Her stomach turned and she looked away. He grabbed her thighs and tried to force his face on her, and she grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him away. “You have no idea what I want!”
“You want a fucking queer you can fuck in the ass!” he accused. He was back on his feet. “Well I’m not. I can’t be something I’m not.” He was gathering his pillow and taking a blanket off the chest at the end of the bed.
“And neither can I,” she said softly.
He strode back put his face close to hers. His breath was sour. “With you, it’s a choice. A choice to not be with me,” he hissed.
When he left, she lay on the bed, on top of the covers. Anger squeezed down on her chest. She swallowed hard and lay rigid, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.
It wasn’t the first night she’d spent as such. But she swore it would be the last.
~Stella (a working title)