Dirty Little Heart

“So, where are you from?”

Amazing.

Here’s another one. ‘Where are you from?.’ This is the same question everyone asks. I don’t mind answering, really.

Not if you try to not think about how your father and uncle molested you. How they bore you down and dug deeper into the core of the earth.

How they messed every single emotion, every single inch and scarred you for like.

Well, unlucky for them, little tough Angelica May survived.

“California.” I smile and answer the stranger beside me, who’s been trying to get into my pants for the last half hour.

“I’ve always wanted to go there,” the stranger says.

Yeah, with an attitude like that, you’re gonna have a good time. I think to myself.

“Can I get you a drink, please?” he points a finger to the bartender and asks for something I really don’t need.

Ugh, would they ever stop? It’s the same attitude for all the guys. They’re still saying the same f*cking pickup line like they have a chance. Sure, I don’t mind having a one-night stand. But sometimes we need only the real intimacy that most men don’t have the balls to be able to give.

It’s always, I’m ready for action, rather than comforting for once in their lives first.

Already frustrated, irritated, raged, and exhausted from all these talks, I wanted to snap, and I wanted to snap right now.

But just as I’m about to say anything, a voice comes from behind me.

“Not gonna happen, bro.”

My eyes widened enough, not out of shock, but curiosity. I turn to see who has such an aggressive, deep voice that I like to hear when I’m in bed.

It was a voice that could shake me to my core. That can only make me want more. That I’d love to hear my name from. The voice of nothing but a man.

And damn, it wasn’t just his voice. It was all of him. I was staring at this handsome, not too broad, alpha-kind male. He had his hands in his pockets and was staring directly at the dumb stranger sitting next to me, his eyes reflecting the lights of the bar.

I’ve been with my share of men, and never have I ever seen someone this attractive. I was curious about the way he addressed me. Without even realizing I was thinking about him and me, getting all over each other, eating stuff off each other, maybe getting a little kinky and tying each other while the other teases the other.

I’m a little naughty like that. But all these things are those which we see in the movies or something. This isn’t a fantasy world. So I immediately snap out of it.

The stranger gets up and tries to face the s*xy gentleman, only to discover that he’s way bigger than he is. The stranger attempts to keep his cool, acting like he can stand up to him even when they are looking like the elephant and the ant.

The stranger asks in a fake deep voice. “Is there a problem?”

The s*xy gentleman looks at me for a second and laughs, which I find pretty interesting, for some reason. He’s silent for a moment and finally speaks.

“The problem is not me, it’s you.”

Oh, my god, that voice is making me feel things I only felt when I was making myself satisfied with a fella toy of mine. How can someone’s voice affect me like that?

It’s never happened to me. Now, all I could think about was taking him back to my house, pushing him to the bed, ripping his shirt off, and kissing him all over the body. Yet I’m here knowing that it’s not gonna happen, but acting like I know it would.

“What do you mean?” He asks the Handsome Angel. “Who are you?”

And there goes my imagination. I catch the gentleman looking at me with a sharp eye. It’s like he’s reading my mind.

“She doesn’t care about you, and she’s never gonna care about you.” He says.

The stranger looks at me with confusion. Instead of defending him, I give him a look and ask what he’s gonna say next. He looks at the gentleman.

“That’s not true. She’s been sitting here for over an hour and a half. If she didn’t want to, she would have turned me down from the beginning.” The stranger says.

Hello? When I spilt the whole glass of wine on your shirt, I gave you a clue. It’s not my fault you don’t know when someone gives you a clue.

“And how do you know all of this? You don’t even know her.”

That made me even more interested in this conversation. I settled my chin right on my hand and look directly at the s*xy guy for an answer. I want to hear what he has to say. He exchanged looks with the both of us for the last time before letting his intimation out.

“By her body language. I saw you both sitting in this chair first. The more I tried to ignore her, the more her body language asked me to stay. She’s sitting here with you for like, what? How long, half an hour? She would have come with you in five if she wanted to get into your pants. She was looking all over the bar, trying to catch someone else’s eye, but no one had the guts to intervene. Finally, she got over it by drinking much more than usual, so that she wouldn’t remember she even slept with a guy like you.”

‘Are you kidding me?’ I think to myself. ‘Who’s the guy?”

How can a mind reader be so amazing, private, and seductive at the same time? Is it by nature or he’s just pretending to be cool like all the other ones? A lot of guys have intervened in situations like these before, but this is the first and most interesting one I’ve come across since I first moved here. We stare at each other in silence and think about who will break the tension first.

The stranger looks at me and coughs in embarrassment and finally, he walks off, giving the s*xy gentlemen a strange look. I look at him, he looks at me. It’s like time has stopped for some reason. I’m not someone who would slip easily into fairytale situations like these, but with this one? I kind of wanted to.

He sits right next to me and stares straight at the bar, suddenly avoiding eye contact.

“Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?” I ask him.

“That depends on how my night goes.” He replies.

I like it when someone is simple and down-to-earth. They can ask if they want something. We have the choice to accept him, and vice versa.

“Why don’t you do it again? You’ve read my mind so well before. Why not do it again?”

I catch him smiling a little, as if he’s enjoying this conversation more than he thought he would. He turns his chair so that he can face me directly. The way he was staring, and the way he’s leaning while smirking. F*ck, I was dripping already.

That gaze is giving me goosebumps. In a way, I’ve never ever felt before. My body automatically reacted to everything he does.

Was it about satisfying my own sexual need? Sure, maybe, maybe not.

But no, the answer was clear. It was just me wanted him badly. No questions asked. It was my body longing for his.

It sure made me go berserk thinking how a man I’ve interacted with for like 3 minutes can influence me.

He stays silent for a minute with a flirtatious smirk on his face. Finally, he speaks.

“Your question has been probably answered by both of us.”

I smile, perfectly knowing the answer. I guess we both do know.

We finish our drinks. He takes me back to his place and the next thing I remember is him pushing me against the wall, pulling my hands up as if he’s asking me to surrender my whole body to him.

And d*mn, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to submit.

“You want this, huh?” He growled, locking my lips with his almost instantly before biting the lower one.

“Hell yes.” I screamed, right after a moan escapes my mouth.

“Yes. Yes!”

The movements, the rhythm of the body. It was all a blur, but damn, it was intense. The way he ran his hands through my neck, all the way to my stomach, tickling me, teasing me, and all the way down?

I don’t remember the last time I had such a moment. He grabbed my thighs and told me to get a hold of myself as I was going out of control. I look at him, biting my lip and warning him not to stop.

I can listen to all the sounds he’s making while he sucks the world out of me. He’s so good. His lips, his tongue, and got the intensity he maintains.

He was forcing me to lose my senses or blow out my brains myself.

He comes back up and kisses my neck, slurping it and tasting it with his tongue, while he grabs both my hands and locks them with his own.

“Is this what you wanted?” He questions.

I bite my lip again as my eyes automatically lock with his. It was obvious that he wants me to give in.

“Don’t bite your lip l