The Sweet Taste Of Rejection

Chapter Ten

The Sweet Taste Of Rejection
Nhica Moico
(Edited)

You can see there if you catch her eye,
I know she's brave but it's trapped inside,
Scared to talk but she don't know why,
Wish I knew back then
What I know now.
Wish I could somehow
Go back in time and maybe listen to my own advice.

I'd tell her to speak up, tell her to shout out,
Talk a bit louder, be a bit prouder,
Tell her she's beautiful, wonderful,
Everything she doesn't see,
You gotta speak up, you gotta shout out,
And know that right here, right now,
You can be beautiful, wonderful,
Anything you wanna be,

Little Me, Little Mix

Chapter Ten

"There's a hole in what you're saying--I can plainly see. You've got a lover that's waiting, but baby, you're right here with me. Oh, you might as well be the Devil, keeping me out past three. Well, you’re the one with that apple. So baby, you can’t blame me. Oh why don’t you keep drinking, and give me one night with you? If I didn't know better, but dammit, I do." 

                Jace had faced the sin of temptation several times before, but it scathed him like a battle wound this time. It was like the butt of cigarette, replenishing old molten scars onto his skin. Temptation had haunted him mercilessly in the past as he danced with the devil--that devil being the angelic Amy Smith. Jace watched as the ringlets of her glistening obsidian locks glowed like a shawl against the plush pillow; her toned pale arms shrouding her breasts. Serenity was carved onto her delicate porcelain features, her chest rising up and down. She was ripe for the taking, that apple of Eden, the melancholy melody on the tip of his tongue--but he couldn't react. This fiery ball of fury and compassion still bewitched and succumbed him into seductive heat he didn't even know if he could handle.

                Anger melded into hate as Jace reflected back on that elite Ben, one of the most precocious and superb entrepreneurs and doctors; whom had helped Adam get over his cause of food poisoning. He grunted in displeasure and decided to mute himself for Amy's sake, but then decided against it. Amy was no innocent--nor did she deserve to be treated like one. She threw herself lasciviously at men, wearing tight gowns that hugged her curves and exposed cleavage. They feasted on her, played with her emotions, and she just let them. It nauseated him, and slowly, Jace resented his thoughts. Was his mind trying to run out on him, or was Amy Smith really a gold digger that went ever the exorbitant and brute--the rich and the muscular?

                Snapping out of his reverie and witnessed Amy prop a fist against her chin, her lips pressed against the knuckles. Her expression seemed softer; less wary and exhausted. Jace itched to trace the lines on her forehead as Amy's forehead creased, her body flushing against him; the intoxicating scent of her glossy hair making his desire to trace the creases on her forehand and tangling his fingers in her shimmering locks grew stronger. Jace could still recall the previous night they'd stumbled into bed, carnality and aggression becoming an ally of Amy. She: nibbled on his eardrums, sucked on his collarbone, biting his lip, licking his neck, and clawing at him; drunkenness splayed onto her features.

                 It was as if she were drowning her emotions, scorn, and punitive memories in him. His groin clenched at the thought and Jace cursed under his breath, his fingers fumbling from the belt embedded in the loop of his jeans; tightening them. He refused to think about perverse, perverted things--especially when Amy was lying in his bed, vulnerability and innocence sculpted their way onto Amy's face. It made her inviting and it made him crave her, but Jace once again reminded himself to disregard those thoughts. He didn't want to do something he might regret later.