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Outtake #2
“This is unnecessary, Javier.” It’s the eighth time she’s said this since I placed her inside my SUV, adding kidnapping charges to my already long rap sheet. Fuck it. I don’t care and my cock enjoyed the way she pouted at the end of her ridiculous statement.
Now, what’s unnecessary is her notion to fight my every gesture. She’s stubborn. Always on the defense.
You like it, though. And fuck me, I do.
Besides, this complaint falls on the nicer side of her conversational skills at the moment; a monologue I hum to here and there, so she knows I’m listening. And I am...
Each objection.
Each annoyed sigh.
Each curse.
Each motherfucking time she bites her bottom lip in exasperation, I’m left fighting the demonic urge to pull over and take her over the center console. Or part those glossed lips and let her feel the weight of my cock on her tongue.
She has no idea how each provocation heightens my need for her.
How hard I am behind my zipper.
“Time to get this over with,” she whispers under her breath, but I hear it loud and clear and there’s a lilt of anxiety that doesn’t sit right with me. Mariah fidgets a bit in her seat, the just above-the-knee skirt she’s wearing in a soft pink shimmying up her thighs, exposing more flesh. I swallow hard and she sighs. “No time like the present since I wasn’t given a choice.”
Pulling into the parking space closest to the E.R. entrance, I shut off the ignition and turn to look at her. Fully appreciate the vibrancy of her eyes, the high rosy cheeks, and then the curve of her pouty, sensuous lips. “I am your choice.”
“Says who?”
“Me.” I’m attuned to her moods, react to her emotions and right now, the little coquette is fighting back a smile. And yet, there’s a hint of unease there I don’t like. “Are you—”
“Have I ever told you that I despise hospitals and needles?”
“No.” That’s not something I’d forget about. Ever.
“Well, it’s true.” My eyes narrow and hers widen, giving me that phony innocent look all women use to their advantage at some point in their life. “Can I come back another time? I’m not ready.”
Oh, she’s good.
“Whatever you want,” I croon, reaching over to tuck a stray piece of hair that’s fallen from her high ponytail. Then, I begin to play. Tit for tat. Tilting my head to the side, I furrow my brows and frown. “You do look pale. Are you okay, Muñeca?”
I don’t miss the small shiver at the nickname or the way she bites the inside of her cheek. “If I am, it’s because needles squig me out. Just not a fan of being poked and prodded.”
Her lips turn into a small frown and it hits me: she’s serious. Mariah’s uncomfortable and that creates a pang—tightness in my chest—and I rub the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me, sweetheart? I’ll never make you do something you don’t want to do.”
Her shrug is sheepish. “Couldn’t give you more ammo to use against me.”
No sooner has the last word passed through her lips that Mariah jumps down from the SUV, and rushes inside. For a second, I’m lost to her words and the way her answer makes me feel, but I’m hot on her heels the moment that car door slams closed.
A nurse inside the lobby looks up the second we almost run into her desk. I’m breathing hard and Mariah is slightly glaring—we don’t look like the most trustworthy individuals—and the woman merely raises a brow in question.
“I’m here to get my stitches removed.”
“They can wait a day or two,” we speak in unison and the lady continues to just watch us. The expression on the poor nurse’s face would be comical any other day, but the tremble of my muñeca’s hand evaporates any amusement.
She really does hate this. Moreover, I’m the asshole forcing her.
“Babe, we really don’t—”
