Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(70)
No, don’t even ask me that.
No word from Ash since he slammed the door behind himself.
And now I am alone, surrounded by pillows and worried to death about my boys.
21 July
Ash and Aidan are okay.
In fact, they’re perfectly fine.
But not for long because, pretty soon, I’m going to kill them.
* * * * *
The saga continues:
The power of the princess fortress cannot be denied. I fell asleep a little after five o’clock in the morning only to have my mobile ring what seemed like two seconds later.
It was Aidan’s ring (the ring tone is called “Moonlit Haze” – I don’t know, I just think it suits him) so I snatched it up.
“Aidan! You’re alive!” I cried happily.
Okay, so maybe that was a bit dramatic but I’d been working myself up all night.
On the other end of the phone there was chuckling.
Yes, chuckling.
The verbal equivalent of a grin.
“I don’t know what’s so damn funny, I’ve been worried sick!” I snapped no-longer-happily.
Then the bed moved.
Ack!
The phone was plucked out of my hand by none other than Ash who was close behind me, up on his elbow, happy-as-you-please, bare-chested, tousle-haired and five-o’clock-shadowed.
“Seymour…” he started but I didn’t hear what else he said because I was too busy staring at him in disbelief.
There he was, laying there, princess fortress be damned, talking normally (okay, not exactly normally, perhaps a little curtly, but still) like bombs weren’t exploding, like people hadn’t gone missing, like we lay together in bed every night!
(Must say am pleased I chose to bring only good nightgown I owned, made of peachy Lycra/cotton blend that was stretchy and clingy and so soft it had to be magical. Not to mention it had lovely ecru lace edging. Further mystical quality of being only nightgown in history that didn’t shift during sleep to end up exposing my bodacious bosoms with one bodice triangle ending up under my armpit and the other in between my cle**age – instead booby triangles kept position as if guarding priceless jewels (which, kinda, they were). But, I digress.)
I had my back to him and my neck twisted around so I could look at him and then he…
Get this…
No really, you aren’t going to believe this…
While he was talking, he rubbed the stubble of his chin ever-so-softly and somewhat absentmindedly on my shoulder.
Ack!
Ackity, ack, ack!
Er, excuse me?
Hello?
When did my shoulder become available for the absentminded rubbing of someone’s morning stubble?
Hunh?
When did that happen?
After our romantic whirlwind courtship full of flowers and presents and beach vacations together and night after night filled with executing varied positions requiring great flexibility (me) and enormous amounts of stamina (Ash) culminating in many orgasms?
No!
After our engagement and subsequent marriage with me in a custom-made Vera Wang and a Harry Winston ring, carrying a bouquet made entirely of perfect, hand-picked, long-stemmed cream roses and a reception replete with a firework display and beef wellington?
No!
I snatched my shoulder away from his chin (ignoring tingles) and made to exit the bed (in a huff, mind), but I wasn’t fast enough.
A steel-like band (better-known-as Ash’s arm) encircled me and hauled me back against a rock-hard body (better-known-as Ash).
“We’ll be there in an hour,” Ash said, flipped my phone shut without a thought that, perhaps, I might want to talk to Aidan.
(Alas, the Glamour Girl phone died a tragic death when Motorola came out with a thinner-than-thin hot pink flip phone – you know I had to have it.)
He then tossed my mobile onto my grass-stained and muddy raspberry sundress that was strewn across the (fabulous, must admit) club chair in the corner.
“Excuse me?” I said sounding exactly as peeved as I was. “Did it occur to you that I might have a thing or two to say to Aidan?”
Silence.
Annoying man!
I let out a pissed off puff of air then said, “Oh for goddess’s sake… let me out of bed.”
Get this:
“No,” Ash replied.
Fuck that!
I pressed my back against his chest for leverage, my booty pressed against his crotch and I grabbed on to the edge of the bed and pulled with all my strength, hoping to catapult myself up, out and away.
His arm tightened.
Ack!
Ash: so annoying!
“What happened to my princess fortress?” I snapped, groaning with effort.
More pressing, more pulling, more tightening of arms and a little grunting (on my part) but no answer from Ash.
“Ash, let me go!”
He’d clearly tired of the pressing/pulling bit as, at this point, with very little effort (grr!) he flipped me over and pulled me against his body.
Full frontal.
What the hell he thought he was doing, I… do… not… know.
He ignores me for days at a time.
He’s never taken me out to a movie.
To dinner.
Whatever…
One orgasm and then he thinks he can slip in bed with me in the middle of the night and he thinks…