Merciless

One - Caramel Apple

Greetings fellow Wattpad-ers!! 

This is my first attempt writing from a man's point of view so I do apologise if I don't sound too convincing. Also, still experimenting with this genre so any and all feedback is most welcome.

Enjoy! (:

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Sunlight filtered softly in through the blinds, the warm rays caressing my face. I willed my eyelids to stay shut against the burnt orange light behind them. 

It felt like an entire tribe of cavemen were going ballistic - whacking, kicking and thumping against my skull, plodding heavily all over my cerebral. I had the mother of all bloody hangovers.

I rolled over, burying my face on the flip side of the pillow. Its coolness seeped into my heated pores, muting the pounding ache a little. I stretched my foot under the sheets, skimming for a similarly cooler surface, when it knocked into a very smooth, warm, flesh boulder, hitting a dead end.

My eyes shot open. Fuck. What the hell was this bitch still doing in my bed? 

Slightly disorientated from the lingering haze of intoxication, I reached blearily for my phone, found partially obscured under some carelessly discarded undergarments.

Great. It was 12 o'clock already...boss was going to be hard to deal with. I tore the tangled sheets from around me and slid my boxers on. Absent-mindedly, I couldn't help but admire the shimmering strands of spun gold as sunlight danced across her hair, fanned out like a halo around her dainty features.

Five times in two weeks...what the hell is wrong with you, man? 

I mentally kicked myself, as if the aftereffects of  liquor overindulgence wasn't enough. My head felt like it was about to crack open while my body felt like all its muscles had miraculously vanished overnight and was heavy as lead. 

Disgruntled, I shoved the hooker roughly off my bed and she woke with a start as her bare ass hit the hardwood floor. I balled up her flimsy negligee and threw it at her face.

"Get out," I ordered sharply. "Now."

My cold indifference bore into her, searching for the glints of gold within those enthralling hazels that had been my undoing. Though pleased that I commanded fear within her, it was oddly disheartening that her eyes were reduced to mere muddy browns. 

In a daze, she picked herself up, put on whatever she'd arrived in and shuffled out of the room. 

Eyes narrowed, my gaze tailed her until I heard the front door shut with a resounding bang. 

It had all started as an occasional shag whenever I was in the area. But this was getting out of hand. Her untouched innocence turned me on, and knowing that I had been her first brought me extreme pleasure. She was the one thing I had allowed myself to think I possessed when I should have known better. 

This had been going on for way too long. Nearly 6 months. My regular presence in this town was bound to raise some red flags sooner or later. Especially since there were no records of me accepting any assignments in this region. Worse, I was in danger of establishing a relationship, albeit a fucking twisted one.

I couldn't risk that.

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18 months later

I had received a job on the opposite side of the world a year and a half earlier, a couple days after I fully realised my "emotional entanglement" (for the lack of a better word) and took the first flight out. This was my first return to this continent, let alone this country and I wasn't anywhere close to her town and yet...

Brushing past her, I'd done a double-take. I'd know that whiff of candy apple anywhere. Its caramel sweetness was perpetually imprinted on my mind and so I thought I'd imagined it.

Seated at a table outside some run-down bistro, I continued circling the rim of my beer glass with the tip of my pointer. Once clockwise, twice anti-clockwise. My finger caught some of the sweet foam bubbling near the top and I slowly lifted it up to my lips. Licking the foam off surreptitiously, my eyes were glued to the figure manning a makeshift stall across the square from behind my shades.

Nevermind that she was here, I refused to believe I had knocked her up. But there she was, cradling a fucking baby. There was no mistake that the boy was mine. One look at those indigo eyes with minuscule grey flecks that were so much like my own only confirmed it. 

I chugged the remainder of my Guinness down in one long gulp and snapped my fingers for another pint.

Should have stuck to one-night stands. Now I had to get rid of them both.

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Dusk approached and the weary sun hung low over the skyline. I had the perfect vantage point and was not about to cart my ass off elsewhere as long as she stayed in my line of vision. I'd polished off a large bottle of Jack in the couple hours I had stood by, bidding my time. Only a handful of people had stopped by her stall and less than half of them had seemed genuinely interested in her wares. I swore the rest only wanted an excuse to get near enough to fondle her get in her pants. 

Those darned assholes. If any of them laid a filthy fucking finger on her I'd make sure they stuck that same finger so far up their assess they could feel their shit form. 

My fist curled at the thought. But then again, I was a hypocrite.

Putting down the newspaper I'd been pretending to read for the last hour or so, I lit a Marlboro and took a long drag before exhaling a string of perfectly formed smoke rings.

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People came and went, the streets were nearly deserted now. 

I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter past twelve. That meant I'd been at this bad for nearly 2 hours. There were only two other occupied tables besides mine. The bartender and waiter leaning against the counter stared curiously at me, eyes burning holes into the side of my face. 

I drummed my fingers impatiently on the sticky glazed, wooden table top. I'd planned to wait all night if I had to. But damn, all this sitting around was as boring as shagging an inexperienced teen. When was the bitch going to get a move on already? Devil only knows how much booze I'd put away. Lost count around my tenth shot of tequila.

Finally, she began gathering her things, packing up her unsold goods. My butt was sore from sitting so long and was felt as flat as a certain well-known actress's chest. She flung a white sheet over the stand, then with her carrier bag in one hand and the baby nestled close against her chest with her other arm, she started slowly down the road.

Standing up, I flipped on the hood of my coat, took out my wallet and dropped a few bills onto the table. I stretched, snapped the tensed muscles along my neck and threw back one last shot before making my way down the same road she had.

It was going to be a long, long night.

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So, what did you think? Do leave a comment or two below. It would be GREATLY appreciated (:

Nat ♥