EroticReverie

Kash

It's been a week or so since I almost fucking told Tate I loved her in the heat of the moment. Without even meaning to I'd distanced myself from her this past week, and this morning as  I was leaving for work, she finally took it upon herself to scream at me. 

It's not that we hadn't still been fucking. Because we were, a lot. The girl was horny twenty four fucking seven, and was going to end up fucking my dick raw with the tight little cunt of hers. But that wasn't the fucking problem. The problem was, me. I wouldn't admit it out loud. But I was fucking terrified of Tatum. Of what she was fucking doing to me. She screamed at me the entire time I was getting ready, arguing with me when I told her everything was fine. Her temper shouldn't turn me on, but it fucking did. I was getting a fucking hard on as the fucking girl yelled my ear off demanding I talk to her. 

I was late to work because of her. Not from her yelling, but because she'd gotten me so worked up, so fucking wound up by how hot she was. She was fighting for me to fucking just talk to her. For my attention. And god, I fucking loved how needy she was for it. It turned me on every fucking day when she'd say or do whatever just to get my eyes on her, or get me to kiss her , or touch her. And in todays case, talk to her.  It turned me on so much how badly she needed and wanted me, that I threw her against the wall and fucked her to her hearts content. 

I replay it in my head as I listen to the drone of the boring voices around me in the boardroom. I replay her angry push and shove as I kissed her, trying to tell me I couldnt just fuck her and everything would be okay. Protesting as I lifted her silk nightie and drove my cock into her. Shutting her up easily, making her moan my name and beg me for more. 

But when I'd kissed her and left right after for work. I heard her try to hold back a sob, that escaped her and hit my ears just as I was walking down the stairs. I didn't want to make her fucking cry. the shit had bothered me all god damn day. The fact I didnt turn around and fucking hold her and tell her everything was fine. I'd already told her everything was fine. Except it fucking wasnt. I didn't need the complication of having to worry about someone elses feelings. I havent had to care about anyone elses feelings for a long fucking times. But god fucking damnit, it was pretty fucking clear I cared no matter how hard I didnt want to. She was supposed to be a fuck. I'd planned on fucking her, keeping her around awhile and then let her loose when she had a place to go. One fucking problem, the though of her fucking leaving infuriated me. Even when she first got there. 

She had me hook line and fucking sinker the second I walked in that fucking strip club and made her fucking dance for me. 

Once the meeting is finally over I call her. Since she hasnt answered any of my texts this morning. 

She doesnt answer.

I call again. 

Again. 

Again.

"What?!" she answers the phone with her fucking attitude. 

"Stop fucking calling Kash!" she yells. "Just leave me alone!" 

"Where are you?" I ignore her temper. 

"What? What do you mean where am I? I'm fucking sitting here in the fucking house..alone...AGAIN" she says. I let out a secret of relief. The fact she hasn't tried to pack her shit and leave means those tears this morning, and her attitude right now werent enough for her to try to dash on me. 

"Did the dress arrive?" I ask, loosening my tie. 

"Yes Kash, I got the fucking dress." she bites out. 

"Is that all you called for, to make sure I got the dress, and played dress up for you tonight for your fucking party?" she snips. The blood rushes to my dick with the nerve of her fucking mouth. 

"Not all, no... " I say. She waits. 

"I'm fucking hard for you right now Tate." I say on a slight groan as I adjust my dick. 

She huffs a sarcastic laugh. 

"You are such a fucking prick." she says and hangs up the phone. 

I roll my eyes and my head goes back and I lift a hand to my face with a grumble. 

I text her. 

I call her back. No answer. I call her again, her voice mail immediately picks up. She fucking turned off her phone. 

So I text her for when she turns it back on. 

"Just please be ready on time, I'll have a car pick you up, because I won't have time to come get you before. I will meet you there." I type. 

----------------

Tatum

We have the best fucking sex one week ago, and I now I want to fucking murder the man. I already knew his fucking hang ups. Rich. Closed off. Asshole. I admittedly enjoyed his fucking asshole side at times. And the closed off thing, maybe I was a fucking idiot for thinking things were changing between us, becoming something more. Maybe I fucking just imagined how fucking good that sex felt, beyond just physically. Cause ever since he's just been...there...but not. Fucking me and touching me, but without the passion or desire that was there before and up to that night. It's like he doesn't even want me, yet if he didn't ...He's Kash...he'd just tell me to get the fuck out. So obviously he's a typical emotionally stunted fucking man child who can't cope with his fucking feelings and refuses to talk about it, at all. 

I slip on the light pink, mauve colored gown. It's made of silk and has a deep v cut. Huges tightly all the way down down to my lower thighs, and then slowly starts to flow and pool on the floor. Once I've got the fucking thing zipped, if it was any tighter, if I breathed wrong, I'd bust the fucking seams. 

The thin straps hold the deep v neck cut up , and my breasts are now on display. Of course. Because Kash picked it out. The v neck cut hits right below where my breasts are, and they are pressed tight in the dress, and make, if I say so myself, some pretty great fucking cleavage , and they look fucking great. Not sure if it's appropriate for whatever fucking event this is, but that's his problem when he chooses my clothes with his dick. 

I've already done my hair, which is just up in a simple updo , loose, but neat bun, and wisps of hair are loose along the sides of my face. My makeup is simple, and I match a pair of small set of rose gold tear drop earrings to the dusky light rose mauve of my dress.  I spray myself with perfume as the time gets closer to the car coming, I manage to get on the sipple strappy heels satin heels that will be hidden under my dress and then put my phone and my chapstick in my purse, then head down stairs. 

Once the car is there, I check my makeup again in the mirror, fidget with a few wisps of hair and just keep checking myself out. Not wanting to look off, making sure the puffyness from my crying fit after Kash left this morning, is long gone and my eyes are clear. 

I didn't bother asking where the event was or what it was for, or who would be there, because I wouldn't fucking know anyone anyways. 

Once the car stops, I see him at the top of the stairs outside of the museum, other people in similar style of dress walking up the stairs. There's men standing at the sides of the stairs, ready to assist any women who might not have a man handy to help them up the steps in their too tight , or too long gowns. There's people taking pictures of others arriving. 

When the driver opens the door I shift my legs and as gracefully as fucking possible step out of the town car and then hold my clutch purse at my side and force a smile as someone takes my picture. 

I don't know why, because I'm nobody. But I suppose they just take pictures of everyone. I look up to where Kash is standing , wanting to call his name, but I don't need to. Because he's looking over his shoulder checking out the continued flashing, the shift of photographers and them yelling at me to look at them. 

I see the corner of his mouth lift as I try to look through the flashes at the side of the steps and he turns. 

Motherfucker.

My eyes go directly to his tie. 

My heart does some annoying fluttery bullshit, and my stomach does somersaults as I look at the pinnk tie I bought him, that he told me he'd never fucking wear. 

He starts walking down the steps as a man takes my hand and starts to guide me up the steps, Kash meets us more than halfway down the steps, reaches out. 

"I've got her. She's with me." he says, looking at me and his hand politely, but firmly pushing the other mans hand from my own, and taking it. God, I want to still be mad at him. but he makes it so fucking impossible. I just look at him a moment. God, he was so fucking handsome, so hot, and just...a fucking man. In every sense of the word. The smirk on his face, lets me know that he knows he's winning this silent argument on the steps in front of all these people. 

"You're a bastard." I say through my smile. Making sure not to move my lips for anyone who might be able to read lips. He leans down and kisses my cheek and then brings his lips to my ears. 

"But Im YOUR bastard."