Where. Was. He?!
Her face burned as she paced from the kitchen to the front door, her red soled stilettos clacking on the tiled floor as she moved. Bright spots of red dotted her cheeks and her full lips pressed in a thin line that gave her an intense look. Two hours of waiting had her face in a permanent scowl.
A glance at her phone showed no incoming call or text. Nothing.
She’d put on the red dress he loved, was ready for a night on the town, ready to slip into his arms, and once again he’d stood her up. God, she kept promising herself she wouldn’t fall for his flowery bullshit, wouldn’t believe him when he came around spouting about wanting to show her off, and yet she’d fallen for it again. All it took was a simple touch.
Here she stood, dressed up with nowhere to go. She paced to the door, slowed to a stop before she reached it, and leaned her head against it with a sigh.
“You’re so stupid,” she murmured to herself. “A nice ass, some sweet words, and you’ve lost your dignity. The sex isn’t even that good!”
Frustrated with herself, she pushed away from the door with a huff. She deserved better, was better than this, better than his bullshit. As she made her way to her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes and her frustration.
The sheets were cool as she slipped between them, her mind turning from him to the heat of her body. At least she could get some kind of pleasure out of the evening.
The chirp of her phone interrupted the path her fingers were taking and she debated reaching for it. She let them slide absently over the curve of her belly, dipping lower as the sound of his ringtone echoed through the room.
The thought of him preparing to grovel pushed a husky laugh from her. It ended in a moan, her body opening under her sure touch.
She smiled, playing as the ringtone continued to play. She could always take care of herself.