I'M NOT YOUR WOMAN. (✓)

02. uncommitted.

|◁ II ▷|

snoh aalegra — i want you around.

THE LEAF BROWN SEDUCTRESS awoke to a late, anonymous call that was in the business of making hard-to-resist demands. The woman had been left ditched by the lothario, sipping on glasses of champagne to make up for his absence.

The loud ringer from the telephone was insistent just like the man with the feral growl. She cursed in a tight breath as though he was present. It often did surprise her that her bravery shone in his absence and shrunk under his presence.

It continued to ring and she sought after her pillows to bury herself in her sheets with hopes that he would... maybe go away. But, she had known him to be a man that was incredibly determined, which was to her own detriment because she could never say no.

Tonight, though, sparked a new horizon, a new season, as though God had resurrected the woman and given her courage like never before.

She chose to ignore his invite but knew him well enough to know that he was summoning her attendance into his bed and not merely extending an invite for her to accept or refuse.

The phone rattled against the old-fashioned receiver, he hadn't yet given her a pause. She puffed another expletive curse at the inanimate object before rolling over to reach for the phone and grant him the displeasure of hearing her sleepy grumbles.

"Hi, Hugo" she yawned, her lithe body was battling for sleep but her libido was alive and awake.

"A car has been sent to your address, miss"

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Her light moans roused Ebén out of his deep slumber, their impassioned night of sin was cruel on their bodies, with her clasping onto him as if fate would pull them apart if she let go.

Her swollen core and her smudged red lipstick was evidence of last night's carnage, her world had been completely rocked. Last night had noticeably burned her and her libiido but Ebén in the mood for more. It was so like Ebén to wake up, feeling unsatisfied — he had an unappeasable palate that continued to growl for more.

Trails of inflamed love bites were embellished on her ghostly white skin, running from behind her pear-shaped ears right down to her pierced navel.

The landscape of Ebén's almond-brown skin was clear of any marks of her impassion which was no doubt intentional. He wasn't and would never be tied down to any woman but made sure female mounds were bound to him in unholy matrimony.

Her dyed leaf-brown hair plunged gracefully over her shoulders, as her silvery-white eyes finally opened, batting at him for more despite everything in her screaming sore. Her core had been pushed to its limit and her eyes had balked with confused tears.

Her morning breath was stale, the lingering taste of alcohol had stained her lips. She lost her decorum back at the Verragamo mixer seven years ago, casing the man that held the room to complete silence.

Ebén rarely ever acquainted anyone with his torrid personal history.

That wasn't what his bed was for, it was for meaningless sex with women he would abandon as soon as the morning light broke in.

Her claw-like fingers were stitched to his sculpted abdomen, as she ran ripples along his Herculean bod. His silk sheets, bound tight, to her naked body hid the damage he had committed as the 9am sun peered through his high rise glass panels; offering him shades of complete privacy.