Feisty Francesca

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#37 What am I doing?

I jerk away from Joshua as fast as I can, rolling away so clumsily that I tumble onto the floor, hitting my head on the nightstand.

“Oh God, are you okay?” Joshua asks, sitting up to look down at me.

I rub my head and get back up, standing there awkwardly. “Yeah, fine. I – erm – I’m gonna make some coffee.”

“Franny!” he calls after me when I run out of his bedroom and slam the door behind me, breathing hard.

What the fuck just happened?

I push the buttons on his fancy coffee machine, fully able to manipulate the expensive bitch by now, adding some of his lactofree milk to make myself a cappuccino and him a caramel latte. I know he’s coming after me, and while that may take a moment with his sprained ankle and crutches, it’s not going to take forever. I need pull myself together.

Technically, nothing happened. I stayed over at a friends’ house, dozed off on the other side of his bed that I only sat down at to talk to him because he was concussed and couldn’t watch TV. We huddled together while we slept to stay warm, and then I touched him because I thought he was James – just his chest, jaw and hair, which isn’t all that alarming, really. And yeah, I looked at his cock straining to free itself from his shorts, but only because it was pressed up against my leg.

What worries me is the shiver that went up my spine. That I thought of Josh as hot, even just for a second. And the fact that I didn’t move my leg when I realized his morning wood was pressed against it. I just lay there.

He touched my ass.

And I liked it.

My clothes were on, and it was just a hand on top of my sweats, but still. That never should have happened. None of this should have happened.

My breathing speeds up and I lean back against the fridge, my eyes closed. Immediately Joshua’s happy trail fills my mind, leading down to that twitching cock, begging for me to-

My eyes fly open when I hear the sound of Josh approaching on his crutches. He pulled on some jeans, but his chest is on full display, as are those dark hairs on his V-shape right above the dark blue fabric of his pants.

“I’m sorry,” Joshua says, his tone apologetic. “I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t do anything,” I say, sounding a little out of breath. “It’s fine.”

“Are you okay?” Joshua asks, moving closer so he can sit down on one of the kitchen stools, wincing when he hits his ankle against the kitchen island.

I’m supposed to take care of him, make sure he’s okay, but all I’m doing is stare at him like I’m seeing him for the first time. Did I really refer to him as a cute little puppy before? That somehow seems hard to believe, looking at him now.

“Yeah, fine,” I say when I realize I need to answer his question. “I – erm – I need to go. James is expecting me.”

“Right,” Joshua says, looking unhappy. “I’m not sure what just happened, though. Did I do something in my sleep? I woke up with you holding up the blanket and my hand on your ass.”

“I just – erm – I didn’t want to wake you up and I wanted to see what was pressed against my leg,” I say, feeling that familiar pull of a nervous rant. Here it goes. “Turns out it was your cock. Erect. Your erect cock. Against my leg. Even though I assured James that I would sleep in a different room and that he had nothing to worry about, and then I go and sleep with you. Not sleep, well yes sleep, but not like sex, just sleep, but that’s still wrong, and now I’m supposed to and talk to him about his jealously issues and tell him that he needs to stop doubting me, even though he’s got every reason to doubt me now, but I can’t tell him that, and you look all hot in your jeans and you looked hot in bed with your cock and your hairs and your – never mind. I need to get home.”

Joshua’s eyes are as wide as they can go and he pushes himself up, hopping over, trying not to hurt his sprained ankle while he makes his way to me. “Fran,” he breathes. “What are you-”

“I need to go.” I step away before he can touch me and run into the spare bedroom, locking the door behind me. It only takes me five minutes to grab all my stuff and get changed. Joshua is standing right outside the door, waiting to continue our conversation, but I just can’t. Not right now.

“We should talk,” he insists, grabbing my wrist. “Fran, I need you to know that-”

“No,” I interrupt him. “All I need to know is that you’re okay, and you are. And all you need to know is that I have a boyfriend who I love and who doesn’t deserve me going this to him. I need to go now, Josh. Be safe, okay?”

It’s not until I’m outside that I realize I don’t have my car. If I call an uber now, I will be waiting on the curb for a while, giving Joshua the opportunity to come out and try to talk to me again. I run to the nearest bus stop, cursing when I see that I just missed one and the next one that stops near my apartment won’t be around for another thirty minutes.

I guess I will just walk.

Of course it starts to rain five minutes later.

Great. Just my luck.

By the time I arrive at my place, I’m soaked to the bone. While I fight with my lock to get it open, close to a mental breakdown, Thomas steps out into the hallway, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“Hey,” he breathes, taking my keys from me and opening the door for me. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head and sink down on the couch, finally breaking into tears. “No, I’m not okay,” I whimper, letting Thomas wrap his arms around me.

“Did James do something to you?” Thomas asks, rubbing my cold, wet body with his warm, dry hands.

“No, he didn’t,” I rush out. “It’s not what he did. It’s what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I can’t tell you.” I push him off and point to the front door. “Now please leave before I screw up yet again. James was right. I hang out with way too many guys.”

“Fran,” Thomas says softly, touching my face gently. “Talk to me.”

“Get out!” I yell, needing to be on my own right now. “Please, just leave.”

He protests again, but when I keep telling him to leave, he eventually does, the door slamming shut behind him. I pull off my wet clothes and take a shower, not wanting to smell like Joshua when I meet up with James. When I’m finally all cried out, toweled off, my hair is blow-dried and I’ve done my make-up and pulled on some fresh clothes, I head out and walk the ten minutes over to James’ place, this time with my coat on and an umbrella with me.

I let myself into his apartment and rush into the living room, where he is sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He looks up when I enter, and he looks like he hasn’t slept at all.

Just like I shouldn’t have slept.

Instead, I was in bed with Joshua.

I’m such an awful person.

“Hey,” he breathes, smiling ruefully. “I’m glad you came.”

I throw myself into his arms and let him pick me up, my legs going around his waist. He seems surprised, but doesn’t question me. I kiss him hard, wanting to just forget about what happened this morning. This is where I belong. In James’ arms.

“I’m sorry,” he says when I finally pull back and he puts me back down on the floor. “I never should have insinuated that-”

“It’s okay,” I say. There’s no way I’m having that fight with him today. I can’t tell him off for being jealous when I know that he has a reason to be. At least with Joshua he does, as of this morning. And I can’t confess that to James, because then he will never work through his issues. He’s been trying so hard and I want this relationship to work so badly.

“We should talk about-”

“No,” I cut in. “We don’t. I’m not angry, I totally understand, and you’re sorry. That’s all that matters. Now take me to bed.”

James’ eyes narrow and he takes in my expression, then my clothes. “Did you stop at your place before coming here?” he asks, sounding a little suspicious. “I don’t remember packing that shirt for you.”

“I needed a shower.”

“Since when don’t you just shower here?” he asks, absolutely right to question me. I’m being weird and I need to take his attention away from the fact that I’m not being normal Franny right now. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I do know that I don’t want to lose him.

“I wanted to look good for you,” I say in what I hope is a seductive voice. “And I wasn’t going to shower at Joshua’s place, obviously. You didn’t pack me any make-up, so I stopped at home for half an hour to make myself look pretty for you. I missed you.”

His eyes narrow even more. Yeah, he definitely knows I’m full of shit now. I never say shit like I want to look pretty for you. We met kneeling down on the pavement with blood on my torn dress. He doesn’t care what I’m wearing or if I have any make-up on. If I truly came here because I missed him, I’d just run straight over like I always do and not stop for anything, especially not something as trivial as my appearance.

Before he can question me, I take off my shirt and bra, dropping to my knees to undo the zipper on his jeans. He lets me, but doesn’t grab me or participate in any way while I tug off his jeans and shorts and run my hand over his shaft. It takes a moment before his cocks responds to my touch, but when I join in with my tongue and moan when I run it around his piercing, it finally jolts awake and James grabs my hair, holding me still while he trusts into my mouth a few times, making me gag.

When he lets me go, I look up at him with hooded eyes. “Unleash the beast on me,” I almost beg, needing that violent, dark side of him more than anything right now.

Something sparks in James’ eyes and then he’s all over me, tearing off my clothes so harshly that I get a scrape from my zipper being dragged across my leg. He gets naked even faster than I did and then I’m bend over the kitchen table like that first time he showed me this side of him, pushing into me without any kind of foreplay. It hurts, I’m hardly even wet yet, but when he pauses to ask me if I’m okay, I tell him to take me harder. To go faster. To smack my ass.

He does everything I ask of him, fucking me so hard and painful that I’m crying, but I still just lie there, letting him push into me again and again while his hand connects with my ass.

I think we both know what we’re doing, but neither of us is going to come out and say it.

James is punishing me and I’m practically begging him to.

He knows something is off, he can feel that I’m plagued by guilt, but he doesn’t know why. This isn’t just the beast in him, this is fear and anger and jealously all spilling out of him. He comes with a feral grunt, filling me up with his cum.

This is what I asked for. It’s what I asked him to do. What I ordered him to do.

Then why does is feel so wrong?

“Mine,” he says, pushing into me one last time, his fingers digging into my hips. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” I whimper, tears still streaming down my face. “Yes, I am.”

Unlike all those other times, James doesn’t turn back into his usual sweet self. He doesn’t ask me if I’m okay, doesn’t carry into me into the bathroom, doesn’t wipe me clean. He doesn’t even kiss me. He just leaves me bent over the table while he pulls his pants back on and goes to get himself a glass of water. I push myself up and wince at how raw I am. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I’m clean and dressed again, walking into the living room feeling sick.

James is sitting on the couch like nothing happened, watching some stupid comedy. I sit down next to him tentatively, surprised when he drapes an arm around me and presses a kiss to my forehead, acting like we didn’t basically just have… revenge sex, I guess? Angry sex? It definitely wasn’t make-up sex.

“Love you, baby,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice back to normal.

“Love you too,” I breathe, my tears still stinging with unshed tears.

What the fuck am I doing?

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