I liked to give credit where it was due. “The same can be said for you, darlin’.”
Her grin spread further across her face. I liked that I’d put that there, and then wondered where the fuck that thought had come from. Making women happy was not on my agenda anymore. The only thing I wanted to make women do was fuck me. I couldn't care less what they did after that.
I smacked her ass. “Time to get you home,” I muttered, pushing her to let her know the night had ended. The thing I liked about Carla the most was that she didn’t seem to have any problems understanding that what happened between us wasn’t and wouldn’t be anything more than sex. When I’d fucked her two weeks ago, she’d been more than happy to leave the next morning without asking for my number or a follow up. She happily crawled off my lap and waited to be dropped home. When I pulled up outside her house, she grabbed her bag, gave me one last drunken smile and exited the car without another word. I watched her walk inside, and decided she could well be the perfect lay.
5
Carla
As I weaved through the afternoon traffic, I let my mind drift to thoughts of last night. I’d ended up drunk after having a run-in with my boss about being late to work. He refused to listen to my explanation about being stuck in traffic and involved in a car accident, and sent me home after three hours. That meant I’d missed out on five hours of pay so I’d hit the club to dance my aggression out. Men kept buying drinks for me, so a few hours later I was drunk, and that was when I’d had the bright idea to call Havoc. I’d wanted to set him straight about my driving skills. That was what I’d told myself anyway. Truth be told, the man fascinated me. I had so many questions for him, ones I knew he’d never answer. Like, why did he have blood splatter on his T-shirt when I’d hit his car, and how did he get the nickname, Havoc? He was far from the kind of man I usually went for, but he was also the man who turned me on more than any other I’d come across.
I was torn about him. I wanted to have sex with him again; hell, I wanted a lot more sex with him. But I was the kind of woman who fell too easily for a man once I was sleeping with him. And Havoc was not the kind of man I wanted to ever fall for. I didn’t believe he could give me the stability I craved. Plus, it was clear he didn’t want anything from me except sex. I was good with this. For now. But if I kept sleeping with him, I knew myself and I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t be good with it after awhile. So, it was probably best not to see him again. But fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I hit the steering wheel in frustration. And that was when I saw him. He was exiting the hotel I was passing, and I made a snap decision to pull over. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried. My sunglasses shielded my eyes from the burning afternoon sun; for winter, it was unusually warm, and I regretted wearing jeans and a long-sleeved top. His sunglasses hid his eyes from me, so I had no way to know if he was pleased to see me or not as I walked towards him.
He stalked right up to me, grabbed me roughly by the elbow, and demanded, “What the fuck are you doing here, Carla?”
Well shit. Not the reaction I was expecting. And not a reaction that impressed me. I tried to shake myself from his grip but he held firm. Looking up at his face, I answered him angrily, “I was driving by, saw you and thought I’d stop and say hi. Gotta admit I’m regretting that decision now.”
His anger matched mine. “I’m regretting that decision too, babe.”
He began to pull me back towards my car. I didn’t appreciate being manhandled, and resisted. That only annoyed him further and he grasped me tighter in an effort to pull me. “Stop!” I yelled.
He stopped and bent his face to mine. He hissed at me, “Trust me when I say this is not a place you want to be. You need to leave right fuckin’ now.”
“Why?”
He resumed dragging me in the direction of my car, and muttered, “I don’t have fuckin’ time to detail it for you. I just wish to hell that you didn’t have to argue with me about every-fuckin’-thing.”
Fine. If he wanted me gone, I was going. He wasn’t making any sense, and he’d upset and pissed me off so there really was no point in sticking around. Obviously, he’d had enough of me, and whatever we’d had going was finished. I finally found the strength to break free of his hold. Throwing my arms in the air, I yelled, “Fine, I’m going. You don’t have to drag me anymore.”