-Prisoner-
33
"What?" I ask. He's… staring at me weird as I tie my sneakers. "*What*?" I repeat again, getting annoyed. I *hate* when people *stare* at me.
"Nuttin'," he shrugs, but continues staring at me.
"*What*?!" I practically growl.
"I was just- I mean… new bra?"
"Huh? What? Why?"
"They just- your tits look *amazing* today," he says, ogling my chest.
"Really?" I ask, smoothing out my shirt a bit and looking down. "Matter a' fact, it *is* a new bra. One of those push-up thingado's. I'm glad it works."
He closes the distance between us and his hands start on my hips and slide up the side of my body to finally cup my breasts as he leans forward to kiss me. "Stop," I whisper. Shit- doesn't he *know* what'll happen if he gets me started?
Not that I'd object- but I don't want his friends to hate me even more for making him late!
Still- it's been like… nearly two *months* since I've had him inside me and I *want* that again. *Now*, preferably. But-
"You're right," he says, sliding his hands up under my shirt and just feeling the warmth of his hands against my skin makes me moan.
"Gonna be late," I whimper when he presses me against the door to the garage. His hands slide down to my thighs and lift them. My legs are wrapped around his waist sooner then I realize and his tongue is *so* insistent in my mouth.
"Need you," he breathlessly whispers through kisses. "Been too long."
"But- the studio…" I'm *trying* to help him, but when he's cupping my ass like that…
"Five minutes, I swear," he says, staring into my eyes.
"Okay," I agree hastily. I need him too, truth be told. We'll go slow and pretty later, but- I just need release now. With *him*.
He releases my hips and starts unzipping his jeans. "Jeans down. Now," he orders. I agree- we don't have time to remove clothing sexily. "You still on the pill?"
"Uh huh," I nod, which is good, since with *my* luck- I'd have ended up pregnant from Enrique. OH GOD! Enrique! I'm still… *dating* him- if one could call it that.
"Em- I still have a boyfriend," I say as I push my jeans and panties down. I don't know *why* exactly I chose to share that piece of information *now*.
"Shut the fuck up," he growls and yanks my mouth to his. Oh thank god.
I feel him spinning us around until my ass bumps into the table- oh that'll work. Of course, we're gonna fall over pretty soon- because our jeans are around our ankles, but I don't give a fuck because the way he kisses me, or *I* kiss *him* is just…
"Bend over?" He asks, his voice raspy with lust.
I turn in his arms and bend over the table and squeal in delight when I feel him slip two fingers inside me. "Ohgod, Marsh, more," I groan and bite my arm a bit.
"You want more?" He growls in my ear. I nod quickly and surge forward when I feel him press *three* fingers inside me. I often wonder if I could take his whole hand. I bet I could- if he really worked me up to it.
"Shit- you're soo gorgeous, Eva. Fuck- you my girl now? You mine and mine only?"
"Uh huh," I groan. "Please… make me yours again, Em." I just want him to make me forget all about Enrique and the past two months.
I whimper when I feel him nudging my entrance with his cock head.
"This what you want?"
"No, want *you*," I correct him. "*All* a' you."
"You got it, Eva," he whispers before slamming into me and HOLY FUCK!
"Yes- god, yes," I chant as he fills me over and over. Shit. Yes. "God- love you," I say and it feels *so* good to say it. Finally!
"Te quiero, Eva," he whispers in my ear. Shit, man. He gotta do *that* to me? *While* he's rubbing my clit? "Soy para ti," he says, kissing my neck softly. Oh dear lord!
"¿Qué estás haciendo?" I groan. "God- las cosas que haces- a mi cuerpo... a mi-" Fuck. I don't know what he does to me- or how he does it. ("What are you doing?... God the things you do, to my body, to me...")
"He estado aprendiendo español," he says. ("I've been learning Spanish.")
OHFUCK. He's been- learning Spanish? For me?
SHIT.
"Scream my name, Eva. Lemme hear it! ¡Grita!"
And he drives himself into me one more time and pinches my clit just *so*- and- fuckme- "MARSHALL!!!!" Fuck. I convulse against the table as I come and feel *him* coming and shit. *This* is how it's supposed to be.
Fuck.
I feel him laying over me, panting heavily. As am I. Shit.
I missed him soo much.
"So… the Spanish thing really gets ya, huh?" He asks.
"Uh huh," I grunt.
"Did… *he* ever-"
"Not in bed," I answer. "Or… rather- not during sex. Though I don't know why."
He stands up and I do too. He shuffles over to the sink and wets some paper towel and hands them to me so I can clean myself off. He doesn't seem *mad* about- talking about it.
"When did you start?"
He shrugs. "Started looking up a few phrases at one of those online translator things."
"They really don't work," I inform him. They really don't; I put them to the test a few times.
"Worked fine on you," he says with a hint of pride.
"Well… I'm an exception," I inform him. "Remember? I *told* you before- I'm just cool."
"Oh yeah- how could I forget?" He asks. "So… I'm sorry- I forgot- I mean… with the table and the… bending over and-"
I know *exactly* what he's thinking this time. "No," I answer him. "Nothing you do reminds me of anyone but *you*."
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too," I reply, pulling my jeans up.
"Your tits really *do* look good."
"Don't start wit' me *again*, Marshy" I laugh.
"'Marshy'?" He asks, looking at me baffled and confused. "Don't *ever* call me that again."
"Okay," I say, opening the door to the garage. "*Marshy*!"
34
"You're not gonna chicken out, are ya?" He asks, after he throws the car into park. "'Cause if ya are- better do it now."
"No," I shake my head. "I'm ready." And I am too. 'Though I doubt Proof'll like seeing me.
"Let's go then!"
Okay. Here we go. With the… meeting the friends thing… We walk in the building and he says something to the secretary as we walk past her toward the hallway where I found him that night- when I made love to him…. when *we* made love with each *other*.
He opens the door to the hallway and are immediately assaulted with a catchy bass and I recognized Bizarre's voice coming through the speakers.
He leans over to me and asks, "nervous?"
"A little," I nod my head. I mean… what if they don't *like* me?
"They're gonna love you, don't worry 'bout it," he says. Shit. Did I say that last part out loud? Or did he just know what I was thinking? "I knew," he says and I'm about to question him, but he opens the door to the studio and the room is *filled* with people. The four other members of D12, as well as three other people- one I know is that guy Luis, who accept Em's Oscar last March. Ohgod- I'm dating an *Oscar* winner. An *Oscar* winner loves me. Loves *me*.
"Hey, Guys! Sorry I'm late!" And seven pairs of eyes are on me. "Guys, *this* is Eva!" He announces and Bizarre has since stopped rapping and someone just cut the music as well. And it's just… silent.
"Hi?" I say softly. Yeah- this is gonna go well. They all hate me.
"Hi!" Denaun says and stands up. "We've… heard a lot abouchu," he offers his hand and I shake it. "We just- didn't think we'd- thought you weren't… together anymore, Em?"
"Well, we're back on *now*," he informs them.
"Nice to meet you," I say, purposefully ignoring Proof's eyes. "What should I… call you?"
"Didn't tell her the rules before you came?" Swifty says, scolding Marsh. "At work- we're emcees," he says. "So we go by our stage names- gets us in the mood more, you understand." He winks at me and hops up off the couch. He pushes Marsh a bit and says, "I'm goin' ta get drinks. Want anything, Doll?"
"Jus' water?" I ask and he nods. "Thanks."
He leaves and Proof leaves hastily behind him. Oh yeah… this is going *smashingly*.
"That's Luis, Steve and Jeff," he points to the three other non-D12 members.
"Hi!" I say and just sorta… stand in the middle of the room like an ass.
"Okay- 'Zarre- kick it again from the top," Denaun says and the music starts up again.
Em grabs my hand and pulls me with him. He flops down on the couch and pulls me onto his lap before wrapping his arms around my waist.
I really like the bass on this song and then the Luis guy turns toward me and says, "Entonces, ¿hablas español? ¿no? Esto es lo que dijo hace mucho tiempo."
"Sí," I answer him. "¿Qué más dijo de mi? Todo bueno, ¿no?"
"NOOO!!" Em calls out. "NEW RULE! ENGLISH ONLY!"
I smile and then add quickly, under my breath, "Dímelo más tarde, ¿bien?" I *really* wanna know what Em has said about me- I mean… if he said I speak Spanish- and Denaun obviously knew about me… what does he say?
Just then, the door opens and Swift throws me a bottle of water. "Thanks!"
"So… Em here says you in school?"
"Yeah," I answer and notice the icy stares from Proof, who comes in with a Mountain Dew for him and Em.
"What for?"
"Well- I'm not quite sure yet- I *think* I'm goin' inta psychology, but I'm not sure. I'm takin' three psych classes this semester, a Spanish class and intro to computers."
"Thought you *spoke* Spanish," he says. He's *nice*.
"Oh- I do. It's an advanced course- I *know* the language- but I'm learnin' more about the grammar and shit- the proper type. It's interesting and pretty easy."
I hear Proof snort a bit before coughing. "'Ey!" Em says, sounding angry.
"What?" Proof shrugs. See? I *knew* he'd be… not happy.
"So," Swift says after shooting Proof an angry glare, "You live on campus?"
"Oh yeah- don't got a car- and it's not like my parents wanna drive me back and forth to freakin' MSU every day. So-"
"Yeah- we was up at MSU when Em did the MTV concert. It's fuckin' *huuuge*!"
"Oh I *know*!" Okay- so he's *really* nice. And everyone else is working, not ignoring me- but they're workin' or pretending to anyway. Everyone except *Proof*, who's just glaring at me between sips of soda. "It's too big- I'm constantly dashin' across campus from class to class. 'Slike all I'm doin' is running!"
"Yeah- do a *lot* a that, huh? What you good at," Proof mutters.
"Hey, Man!" Em warns him.
God, I didn't wanna cause *trouble* for them. And saved by the bell, seriously. Or rather, the cellphone! *My* cellphone. <Ring. Ring.> I glance at the numberrrr- shit. Well… "¿Alo?"
"Eva! Where *are* you, Girl?" He asks. "I called Jane's and she says you're not there? Where you at?"
"'Rique," I say softly, but I feel Em immediately tense. "I'll call you later, I'm busy right now."
"NO!" He says angrily. "I wanna know where the fuck my girlfriend is? You over wit' Randy?"
"*No*, that whachu think a' me?" I mean… can't really *blame* him, I guess.
"Well- that *is* how we met, ain't it? In Randy's *bed*?"
"No me digas esto, Enrique." Em tenses even further and I place one of my hands over his. I know- it makes him nervous if he doesn't know what I'm saying. ("Don't tell me this.")
"Why not? It's the *truth*. But I *told* you- you were *mine*. The other night- no one else's and I meant it. Maybe I didn't get my point across. *So* meet me in my room in twenty."
"No," I say.
"No?" He repeats.
"No."
"And why the fuck not?"
"It's not working out," I say softly. I don't really want all of Em's friends to witness this, but- I really don't think I could pry his arms off of my waist.
"¿QUÉ?" ("What?")
"I'm… it's not working- no funciona, entre nosotros y tengo-"
"I swear to god- if you're fucking someone else-"
"To be honest… I am and-"
"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" He screams soo loud through the phone. I think *every*one heard that. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! ¡NO PUEDO CREERLO! FUCKING SOMEONE *ELSE*?! DON'T WHY I'M NOT SURPRISED!!!!! FUCKIN'…"
"Enrique- *stop* it," I say, trying to get him to shut up.
"NO! YOU FUCKIN' BITCH! *FUCKING* BEING THE KEY WORD! THAT'S ALL YOU'RE GOOD FOR ANYWAY!!! YOU-" <Click.>
I take my phone back from Em after he hung it up. Yeah… well- I can't help but notice the small smirk on Proof's face.
"That went well," I mumble before it starts ringing again.
"Don't," he says, holding my hand from putting the phone to my ear.
"NO. I… should-" I press talk and say, "What do you want?"
"You fuckin' hang UP ON ME?!"
"I'm not gonna listen while someone calls me a WHORE! We were *never* novios, *Rique*. Fuck- you don't even know los nombres de mis padres, y no voy a escuchar a una persona mientras me llama una puta- porque NO SOY." ("I'm not gonna listen to a person while he calls me a whore, because I'M NOT ONE! ")
"SO who is it, Eva? Huh? Some new frat brother? Un profesor de la clase? Who's the next guy you're riding? Huh? He fuck you like *I* do? Did you tell him how much I make you come? How wet you get? You gonna let him tie you up? 'Cause you *know* you loved it when I-"
"None of your business. A ti, no te importa, Enrique. We're *through*- *terminados*."
"*Who*, Eva? Huh? Another fuck toy? One night stand? Huh?"
"He's someone I *love*, Enrique. I know that's a foreign concept to you- but *deal* with it. I was *never* yours. Not in the beginning, and *sure* as hell not last night. You think I *liked* it? I was *using* you."
"'Cause you're just a horny *slut* who likes to get *fucked*." And I can't help it. I just start to laugh. "What?!" He growls.
"Ya know what? You're trying to say *everything* that would *hurt* me, but… it doesn't."
"Doesn't what?" He pauses.
"Doesn't *hurt*, not anymore. I'm *not* a slut, Enrique. I've got a boyfriend now- someone I *love* and who loves me back and you can't do a damn thing about it. So don't call me again."
And then *I* hang up.
HA!
And I can't help but notice Proof's eyes soften.
35
"Yo, Em- you're up!" Denaun tells him when Bizarre steps out of the studio.
"You okay?" he asks and I nod. "Get up," he says before patting my tush a little. I kiss him softly before hopping up. He gets up and I watch him walk into the studio. "Yo, Kon- can we hype the bass a bit more?"
They start playing with the bass a bit and I'm just sitting watching. It's *really* interesting and- oh great! *Proof* of all people chooses to sit next to me.
Shit. I just… won't say anything. Or… would he consider that rude? Although I'm pretty sure if someone hates you- no matter what you do- saying something or not saying something is still gonna keep you on their shit list.
I'm *so* happy when the phone rings. <Ring. Ring.>
I glance at caller ID. "Hola, Mami," I answer. "¿Qué tal?" ("What's up?")
"Bien, Mija. ¿Por qué no estás en la escuela?" ("Nothing, Honey. Why aren't you at school?")
"I'm- Jane lent her car to me. So I could-"
"¿Dónde estás?" ("Where are you?")
"En Detroit."
There's silence for a few seconds. I know- if I think *really* hard I can *hear* her thoughts. Oh Dios, está con el hombre viejo. Sob sob, her poor daughter with an older man who buys her affections- IT'S NOT LIKE HE'S SEVENTY! He's just *thirty*. Well- thirty-*one* now, 'cause he just had a birthday, but-
"Estoy con Marshall otra vez, Mami." ("I'm with Marshall again. ")
"Eva-"
"Estoy enamorada con él, Mami. I'm... in love with him." Ohgod. I *am*? ("I'm in love with him, Mom.")
I am. I don't just *love* him. I'm *in* love with him.
"And… ¿está enamorado contigo?" ("Is he in love with you?")
"Yes, Mami. He's in love with me too- creo yo."
"Then… I'm- happy- for *you*, Eva. Perhaps one day- you'll bring him for dinner."
HOLY SHIT! DID *MY* MOTHER JUST *INVITE* HIM OVER?! HOLY FUCKING HELL!
CALL THE PAPERS! FAX CNN! HELL HAS *JUST* FROZEN OVER!
"Okay, Mami. Quizás. Is that why you were calling?"
"Yes. We just- hadn't heard from you- and… tu mensaje a la escuela- you did not call us back and-"
"Sorry. I *meant* to- but I was busy."
"Okay, Mija. Tengo que irme."
"Adios, Mami," I say and hang up. And fuck- there's my quandary again. Proof.
"Your moms?" He asks quietly.
"Um- yeah. 'Fi don't check in every few days, she gets nervous. Thinks I'm in a ditch somewhere or somethin'. So… I just forgot to call her back."
"That true? What you said to her? That you're in love wit' him?"
"Yeah," I respond. "I really am." I shrug, "maybe I was all along and just didn't know it- didn't recognize the feelin'."
He leans in to me and he's maybe an inch or so from my ear. "If you hurt him in *any* way this time, you *will* be sorry." Chills run up my spine because I *know* he means it. "In *any* way."
"I won't," I say quietly, not turning to look at him. Not on purpose, anyway.
"What the fuck is you doin' to the girl, Proof?" Swift asks, pushing him off the couch and sitting down next to me.
"Nuthin'," Proof says innocently. "Just tellin' her when she's done with Vanilla Ice and wants to move on to a *real* man, then-"
"YO, DOG! I HEARD THAT!" Em screams through the microphone. Apparently, Denaun had been talking to him through the mic and earphone hook up and he heard.
"He givin' ya shit 'bout Em?" Swift asks me. I nod a bit. "Shit- don't worry 'bout that. He didn't wanna admit it- but Em's been a *killa* in the studio the past couple months! Sorry to see that end, but-"
Em comes crashing through the studio door and pounces at Swift, but he dodges outta the way before Em lands on him. "Yo! You tellin' me you *want* me in pain? And fuckin' lonely?"
"Nah, man. But- maybe when you ain't gettin' any- it's better for *us*. So… could you just close your legs every once in a while?" He asks before Em tackles him to the ground.
"Are they *usually* this childish?" I ask rhetorically. And *everyone* answers "yes" before they all dive to the floor to participate. I just sit laughing.
36
Man, two hours turns into three which turns into four that pass by seamlessly. And in the end? They give me a copy of the song they finished!
"So- whad he *really* say?" Marsh asks we get going.
"Huh?" I ask, glancing at my CD. It's *cool* having connections. And truth be told? I had a *good* time. His friends are… *really* funny. And I laughed a lot.
"Proof, what did he say?"
"Oh- that if I hurt you in any way this time, I'd better watch my back."
"He's kidding, you know," he says.
"Um, Hon? He's *really* not." Doesn't he know how much his friends love him? "But- that's okay. I deserve it. I was… a dumb ass."
"'Ni ask you a question?" He asks.
"Of course."
"That shit- that you said to… *him* on the phone- was that true?"
"What? Which stuff?"
"That it didn't hurt anymore?"
I shift in the passenger's seat a bit so I can look more directly at him. "You remember Ben? That night at the party?"
"Yeah."
"I went home and I mean- those were the *worst* things anyone had ever said to me. And I didn't wanna believe him- but… I feared they were true. That's why I got on the train and came to Detroit. I had to prove it wasn't true."
"And you almost got killed or worse-"
"I know. But you rescued me. But it hurt *so* bad- the things he said. And Enrique tried to throw the same shit- and… it didn't even *phase* me. Why?" Not that I really wanna bring this up now, but- "Are you… *mad*?"
"'Bout what?" He asks.
"What you saw? In the- on the pool table…"
"Doesn't matter," he shrugs. "Snot like we were together or anything, so-"
"Yeah, but were you mad?" I insist. Wow- we're home already? I mean- back to *his* house? He closes the garage door behind us and throws the car into park.
He just shrugs and shuts the car off. "Hungry?" He asks.
"C'mon- were you mad? *Are* you mad?" I just… feel like this is important and I don't wanna let him blow it off. I mean- if when he sees me- he'll always be thinking about *that*, then- "Marsh?"
"It's just-" he shakes his head and pulls the key out of the ignition. I touch his arm softly and it must trigger something because he turns to me suddenly, "How *could* you?!" He snaps, almost growls.
"How could I- what?"
"*There* of all places! In *our* spot-"
Ohfuck. I hadn't even *thought* of that. I mean… I *had*- but… had I said anything- Enrique woulda thrown me on top of the table and made me come all over it.
"And why wouldn't ya lock the fuckin' door? Were you *hoping* I'd walk in?!" Oh wow- he's *mad*.
"I didn't know you were there- I told him to lock the door, but-"
"But you were too busy being gagged? What the fuck?! Do you *like* being treated like shit? 'Cause I can't do that, so if it's what you want-" He stops talking and gets out of the car, slamming the door shut.
I jump out of the car and dive in front of him before he manages to open the door to the kitchen. "NO," I state forcefully. "I *don't* like it- I don't *want* it."
"Then why'd you let him *do* it? Was it like that *every* time? With him?"
I'm guessing honesty is the best policy. "Pretty much," I answer, not looking at him. God- "Do you think I'm *proud* of that? Or of everything I did *before*?"
"*Aren't* you?"
"You think I *like* knowing that everyone calls me a whore behind my back?"
"Never did nothin' to change it, so-" *that* hurt. Why do we always have to *hurt* each other?
"Yeah I did," I say. "I fell in love. With *you*."
"How many others?" He asks.
"Others?"
"Besides him, in the past two months, since we broke up. How many others?"
"Three."
"And with them?"
"It was just… sex. *No* one- *no* one can make me feel the way you do, Marshall. *No* one fills me the way you do."
"No. They *all* fill you. Did you let them come inside you?"
God. I close my eyes for a second. I can't look at him. He's *really* upset. *I'm* really upset when I think of my body's betrayal. I *tried* not to want sex. I *tried* not to hurt myself again. I *tried* to only touch myself- in case he might call. But he didn't… for two weeks, I tried very hard. But-
"Did you?"
"Enrique did. Twice."
And *that* hurts him. I can see it in his eyes- because I told him I never let anyone do that.
"Lemme by," he says, reaching for the handle behind me.
"Em- *please*- I… don't wanna *lose* you."
"I just… need some time," he says.
And how we only talk about *my* sexual past? Huh? I mean… if he can be all crazy- why can't I? "What about Kim?" I ask.
"What?"
"What about Kim? How many others have there been besides Kim? Were you always completely and utterly faithful to *her*?"
"Kim was different- the situation is completely different."
"Well- if you can pick apart *my* life- I'm entitled to do the same, aren't I? I mean- did you do anything with *her* that you regret?"
"*Do* you?"
"Do I what?"
"Regret it?"
"More than anything," I sigh and relinquish my block of the door. He walks into the kitchen and I follow suit. "Of *course* I do. I mean… I wasn't *happy*. I *thought* I was- but the past couple months… I *tried* saving myself for you- hoping you'd call. But-"
"But you like sex."
"That's not a crime," I defend myself. "I went to a party and hooked up with a couple guys and a couple days later, I met Enrique. I thought… it might have been the start of something. I dunno- like it was with *us*. But- then it was just more convenient to stay with him, rather than be alone."
I look over at him, leaning against the counter staring at me.
"You didn't call," I say. "And I was- stupid. At fault too. But- in my mind, you didn't call. So I figured it didn't matter what I did to my body, since you wouldn't want it again."
"Oh."
I sigh and take in a deep breath.
He stares at me for a minute before walking toward the hallway. "Where are you going?!" I ask frantically. I just- don't want him to walk away and be mad. We've done that too many times.
He stops in the archway and says, "Gimme twenty minutes. In twenty minutes- come downstairs."
"Okaaaay."
I guess I'm waiting twenty minutes then.
37
I glance at my watch. It's been ten seconds since he left. And- is he mad? I don't know. He didn't *seem* mad- but… if I were him- I *would* be.
Fifteen seconds- so what? What the fuck do I do now? Okay- instead of pacing back and forth- perhaps… I'll make something. Food something.
I walk over to the fridge and- can I *blame* him if he hates me? I mean- he's right. I fuckin'… did it on *our* pool table- where *our* fuckin' cum stains still were. And he *saw* it. If *I* saw him fucking some girl there- I'd be pretty pissed. And then- god- how could I have thought Enrique was a *good* thing?
Letting him use me the way he did- or using *him* to punish myself. That's it- I *was*. I was using him to punish myself- thought I deserved what he did to me, how he made me feel- dirty inside.
I open the fridge and look inside- pizza, beer, jelly, cherries, whip cream, pork chops, milk, OJ, Hershey's chocolate… hmmm. I open the freezer and- ooo- Friendly's Heath ice cream… ice cream sundae it is!
There's nothing that ice cream can't fix.
Wonder if he's want one… probably. He always liked my midnight Sundae maddess. I mean- after fucking a lot- sometimes, ya gotta cool down.
God- what was I thinking? I mean… I've been with a *lot* of people, in a *LOT* of different ways- but I've never been *ashamed* of anything before- but knowing that Em *saw* me like that- *heard* me letting him treat me the way he did- like a whore… *that* I'm ashamed of- because I *was*. I *was* Enrique's whore.
I put four scoops of ice cream into each bowl and cover it in the chocolate syrup. A covering of whip cream and two cherries on each.
And I thought I distinctly said I *wasn't* a whore.
God- he must *hate* me. *I* hate me right now- thinking of *his* hands on *my* body- a body I told Marshall was *only* his… no wonder he's angry. I wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to speak to me again, let alone *touch* me. He's probably downstairs locked in the studio just *hoping* I'll *leave*.
Well- he can just go *fuck* himself because *I'm* not *going*- even if I have to tie him up for two weeks while I *show* him how much I love him and want to be with only him forever. Even if *I* have to be tied to his bed for two weeks to prove how I'm *only* for him.
I mean- I *know* we broke up- but when I told him I was only his to fuck- I *meant* it. And every time Enrique was inside me- I felt guilt.
Having his ring on my finger- it… gave me a sense of belonging. And I really miss that.
God dammit- I-
"EVA?!" He screams up the stairs. "YOU COMIN' DOWN?"
Has it been twenty minutes already?
I put a spoon in each bowl and shit- I've got some explaining to do, don't I?
I head down the stairs with the two bowls and he's leaning against the wall near the studio door.
"Ice cream?" He asks.
"Sundaes," I announce. "Want one?"
"Of *your* sundaes? Of course."
I reach the bottom and hand him his bowl.
"Em- I gotta- tell you some stuff."
"Sounds serious," he says, eyeing me cautiously.
"Well- I've been… thinking- a lot."
"Me too," he says. "But… I think-maybe if you come in the studio wit' me- it might make things a bit more clear."
"Huh?" What? Does he have a sign in there that says 'go fuck off, Eva'? Or a song for me? So long, Bitch you did me so wrong. And I don't wanna go on, livin' in this world, wit'ouchu.
It would be a fitting end.
"Okaaay," I say skeptically.
"Relax," he says, stepping toward me. "I love you."
Ohgod- thank you! I mean… chances are, if it's a fuck off message- he wouldn't be saying *that*. Right?
"I love you too, Em. And the thought that I may have screwed this up before it even began is-" suddenly his lips are on mine and I'm lost in his mouth and what his tongue does to me.
I whimper when he pulls away and opens the door.
Ohgod!
Part 9
Author: crazyevildru@yahoo.com
Back to fan fiction indexThese stories are for entertainment purposes only. They are completely fictitious, and the authors mean no harm to EMINEM, his family, friends, or anyone else that may have been depicted as a 'real life' character. No money was made on the fiction here, either directly or indirectly, i.e. paid advertising. In other words - it's just a bunch of shit we wrote for fun. Please don't take it seriously.