An Unexpected Mate

Part 3

It was only when she lay awake, his clammy arm thrown over her chest, that she realised he'd never said her words. He wasn't her soulmate.

But maybe he was adequate for now. He never had to know that while she was perfect for him, he would never be enough for her. Together, they had something, and that's a lot more than Sheila'd had when she'd woken up.

-0-

She was engaged when she heard them.

Sheila and Gerald had been together for 3 years, engaged for only 2 days. She'd mostly forgotten about the words on her wrist, covering them with concealer whenever possible, often wearing long sleeves.

Gerald had never seen the words.

He had seen her naked, but his eyes were always focused on the rest of her body, ignoring her wrist. Whenever he kissed down her neck, he would always bring his lips to her nipples, never straying, always just touching her for pleasure.

Never for comfort.

When the doorbell interrupted their engagement party, part of her knew something was going to change, she could feel it.

She didn't meet the man at the door, but rather in the dining room. Her mother had insisted upon her bringing Eric, Gerald and her father back to the drawing room to continue their conversation about community – 'and all that nonsense', as her daddy liked to say.

'What's this about streets?' she asked as she entered, having heard only the tail end of the conversation.

Oh.

A rugged man stood massively in the room. Her first thought was about how she wished she could writhe under his dark shadow as he hovered over her, thrusting in and out of her. A bowler hat was perched upon his combed hair, and he firmly held a leather briefcase in his hand, oh, how she wished he would hold onto her like that! His chiselled jaw was framed by shaped beard that appeared slightly rough – she could only imagine his head between her legs, giving her beard burn as he licked and sucked, and –

She was staring. She had to speak.

Oh – sorry, I didn't know. Mummy sent me in to ask you why you didn't come along to the drawing room.

Sheila barely heard her father promise to be along in a minute, she was too busy focusing on his eyes.

They were black and beady and peered back at her, they were hard, framed by his kempt eyebrows, but she could swear she saw them soften like butter as they met hers.

They didn't leave her gaze as he opened his mouth, revealing a tongue that she wanted to taste, run her own tongue against, feeling his rough papillae contrasting to his lips that looked as soft as a baby's bottom, and why, why did she imagine that, now all she wanted was to feel his lips against her rump...

'I'm afraid not.'