The Other Woman (Michael De Santa)

7: Lace And Leather

French fingertips, red lips
Bitch is dangerous

Michael had spent a week with me and I'd been ecstatic. Michael De Santa. A whole week. Heaven.

He wasn't fully healed yet and it was fine with me. The longer he was injured, the longer he stayed.

I was in the kitchen fixing breakfast for us while he slept.

I carried a sliver tray back equipped with our food. Toast, eggs, and glasses with a milk pitcher.

I walked back into the bedroom and set the meal on the dresser, next to his gun.

I laid back in bed with him with an arm around his waist.

"Amanda," he mumbled in his sleep. I looked down at him and felt my heart shatter. He wants her.

I'll change his mind.

I waited a couple minutes until his eyes opened. "Morning." I smiled at him.

"Morning." He groaned back. It was more like 5pm, but breakfast doesn't hurt.

"Hungry?" I asked and gestures the tray I'd set on the dresser.

He nodded and stretched his arms out. "In a minute." He said through a yawn.

"Alright." I replied. Then I felt his hand trail up my thigh.

"I'm hungry for something else first." He smirked and licked his lips. Heat melted in my core as I processed the words in my head.

"I love you." I blurted out. What?

Michael froze and his smiled dropped.

"What?"

"I...love you." I repeated.

He pushed my arm off and shrugged away from me on the large bed. "No." Was all he said and his eyes drifted to the bedroom door.

"Michael," I reached out to touch him but he slapped my hand away. "Michael please!" I begged.

"No no no..." He trailed off. "I'm married."

"Marry me please! I'll make you happier than she ever has!" I pleaded.

Michael chuckled and gently ran his fingers over my cheek, skin almost glowing at his touch. "So innocent, so young." He said quietly, a smirk in the undertone. "I'm married darling. I don't love you. You are a mere fuck toy. That's all."

All anger seemed to burst at once and I roughly pulled away from him. "You think - you think I'm just your fucking slave? That the only reason I walk this earth is to please you?" I yelled. My hand closed around his throat. His flee up to mine but he was weak, he couldn't fight me off.

"You - can't - live - without - me!" He wheezed out, his face turning red.

I let go and slapped him hard. "Watch me!" I grabbed the cold gun from the wooden dresser and pointed it directly at his junk and his face twisted in fear.

"No! No! I'm sorry! I love you!" He cried and his hands flew down to over his crotch. As if it would make a difference.

"I've put up with your shit for too long, De Santa. I'm done." If you don't do it now, you never will.

I didn't think. I pulled the trigger. A deafening shot roared through the room and I was caught off guard and thrown back a bit from the pressure.

Michael screamed loudly. "Fuck!" He shouted. The bullet had gone through his fingers and hit him home.

He screamed louder than I'd ever heard someone scream. It fueled me.

"Don't fuck with me!" I shouted and cracked him across the face with the base of the gun. I grabbed the tray with one hand and slammed it onto his face and chest. I heard the sound of glass crunching and him screaming again. His injured hands flew up and tried to rip the tray away, but the pain was too great.

I chuckled at the pathetic display. "You are a disappointment, De Santa." I said and pulled the tray off. I saw trails of blood going down his cheeks from the broken glass of the cups. Pieces of toast and egg laid all around him. Milk was in his hair.

I put the barrel of the gun up against his temple.

"You never deserved me." I growled. "Did you?"

He violently shook his head while he trembled. "SAY IT!" I shouted and pressed it hard against his skin.

"No!"

"No what?"

"No I didn't deserve you!"

"Fuckin A-Right." I said and ground my palm into his crotch, his head thrown back in pain and he tried to grab my arm, but failed.

"I'm going to kill you Michael. Look at me. I wanna see life leave your eyes." I commanded. For once, I was in charge.

"Please don't!" He cried. "Please!"

"Fuck you!" I hit him again. Blood spurted from his nose.

"You used me. You made me care. Now you're fuckin dead."

I backed up and pointed the gun directly at his head.

"Bye Michael." I smiled wickedly. "Asshole." I said. Then I pulled the trigger, a loud "NO!" and Michael De Santa was no more.

"I loved you just a little too much." I said to myself.

I UPDATED RIDE AFTER LIKE TEN YEARS BTW, GO CHECK IT OUT.