well you guys wanted it... so here yah go... sorry took long time.. kinda having some relationship drama... and im in a pisssed/hurt mood right now so i decided to take a lil break from the drama and write this. oh yeah next chapter is long and have spashley interaction. the most interaction so far. enjoy!
this chapter is for you psawyer1! - thannx for reading it.
Chapter 6 part B
"What classes is she taking? Creepy 101?"
"Aiden do you ever shut up?"
But he had bounced to attention and taken her arm determined to rush her along up the last flight of steps. Once inside her room, he led her more furiously to her bed with a kiss.
"Aiden?"
"Spencer."
"I'm in a middle of a poker game."
"Is that what you think this is?"
"At Kyla's. I have to go back."
"No you don't."
"Yes I do."
"Nope."
"Yes. Who the hell are you, telling me what to do?"
He sighed hotly into her neck and stood up from the bed.
"You just run along now," he said, "I'll be fine. I've got a philosophy paper due tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"Yes. That's right. I have to prove the existence of God through rational argument -- and I lost his phone number -- so it's going to be a long night. Come, come, give us a kiss."
Any sweetness in Aiden (before sex) aroused her suspicion and little else. He pulled her down onto his lap so that she couldn't help straddling him in the chair. Within seconds he was instigating some conflict to heighten the impact of his lust, teasing her with some fantasy wherein she was the goddess who was taboo to him.
But he couldn't help himself.
She did not appreciate this but she didn't know how to tell him this. She was too polite to counter his intimidation with anything other than aloofness, being averse o teasing him, in kind.
"That's right Aiden, I'm the forbidden fruit. And ouch, you're bruising me."
"You're a smart girl, you know, with great tits and a massive ego problem," he insisted, gnawing on her while yanking at the bottons of her shirt, "but your attractiveness makes up for everything."
"Fuck you."
He put his teeth to her breast. She got a fistful of his hair. He lifted her roughly from the chair. They fell together from the chair. They fell together on the bed. She was thinking here we go again even though she felt highly responsive. There was that promising level of physical and theatrical thrill, as ever, but she was left all knotted up and tight-fisted and shut down behind a nice little ladylike smile.
"You're really a sweet kid, you know that?"
"Don't ever say that."
"You're sweet. You are."
"Don't be nice to me now, Aiden. I despise you."
"You despise me? She despises me!" he played the objected lover biting on his knuckles before he segued abruptly, "Lets order out for pizza. What's the number for the pizza?"
She didn't make it back to Kyla that night to rejoin the poker game, being too busy swallowing her frustration in the face of some artistic genius. She had the most fitful night staring in the dark at a gutted pizza box, while Aiden slept.
She found out the next morning that she had lost the bulk of her poker winnings according to some rule invented by Kyla, stating that the player who leaves the game for more than an hour with out telephoning herself officially out must forfeit her "chips" to the pot.
"That's ridiculous," said Spencer.
"What are you complaining about? You took off with a fair share of 'chips' last night. So what?"
She didn't know so what. She said nothing. She was not surprised to hear it was Kyla who pocketed the pot. Spencer mollified herself by assuming that her friend would not cheat her out of her winnings unless she was really needy. And if her friend was really needy, then certainly Spencer could overlook some trifling financial loss.
"Boy, you're in a mood," said Kyla putting her arm around her as they were walking to class. "What's the matter sister? Premature ejaculators getting' ya down? What are you doing wasting your time with him? He doesn't even come from money. Right?"
"Kyla…"
"Yes?"
But Spencer could not bring herself to say it. They parted soon after, coming to a fork in the sidewalk, each in her own mistakable smiley snit and, according to Dr. Brock's method: very politely.
Chapter 7
