Blasphemous (Torn #3)(12)
The next night, Bass came home drunk and I heard two women with him on the patio. This was me, always awake to wait on him. However, hearing women around him, made me think of Ants’s suggestion. What did I have to lose? All was fair in love and desperation—and fighting off conniving women who wanted to get a piece of my man.
“Am I interrupting?”
The women jumped at the sound of my voice. Guilt was written all over their faces. “We’re just dropping him off. He needed our help since he was too drunk to walk properly,” my stylist said before they reluctantly bid Bass goodnight.
Fuming, I marched towards the unreasonable man. “Why are you getting drunk almost every night now, Bass? This is so unlike you.”
“Ahhh! Here comes the beautiful Apate, the goddess of lies, guile and deception. Brava!” Bass was drunk, but he was still coherent apparently.
“Bass, you have to let this go. I want to be with you. I know you’re angry, but please don’t go out and get drunk with these women. You might do something that you will regret later on.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Damn it, Bass! If you need sex, then fine, you have me. If you need to lash out your anger on someone, do it to me.”
“Imagination is a cruel thing, Emma. It’s crippling me. I can’t get over the fact that you spent the whole weekend with him. That information alone cut me up. The rest just killed me.” He raked a hand over his hair and threw his head back in frustration. “I feel betrayed,” he screamed towards the stars.
“But I haven’t, Bass.” I was getting nervous, knowing where this conversation was going to lead up to, but I wasn’t going to let it get there. I had to halt it somehow.
When he saw me get on my knees and start undoing his pants, he started to protest, “Emma, what—” but stopped when my hand stroked his shaft.
“Let me do something to help you. I can’t watch you like this anymore.” Wetting my lips before I looked up to his confused face. “Let me ease some of the pain,” I said before my mouth sucked the engorged head.
“f*uk!” Bass hissed loudly. He started groaning when I took him deeper. I could feel him trying to fight it off, but he finally let out a sound of surrender, just before his hand went behind my head, encouraging me to continue.
I was never more focused on anything in my life. I wanted to give this man the best f*uking blowjob he’d ever had, and I was going to f*uking deliver it.
The back of my throat contracted when his mushroomed head went past it, sucking the life out of him as my tongue swirled around his shaft. “Emma!” he screamed as I deep-throated him, his cock fully screwed into my throat. When my hand massaged and started pulling on his balls, he yelped out my name while his hand gripped the back of my head, pushing me down more as his hot semen spurted down my throat. It was thick and it seemed like it took forever until he was done coming. By God, I loved every drop of him, too. My face said as much.
After I swallowed his come, I bravely got up and stood before him. Bass looked like he was rendered speechless. “Sleep well, my love,” I murmured, walking away.
I paused when I heard him speak from behind. “This doesn’t change anything, Emma.” What little bravado I had was crushed along with those words.
“I know,” I whispered back without turning around. “And I’m sorry for that.”
It was bittersweet.
For days on end, we were inseparable here, but that wasn’t us anymore. He was practically telling me to back off and let him be.
Maybe this was a sign that some things aren’t meant to be. Some things are meant to be experienced, a few to be broken, and a couple to be kept.
We had two more weeks of filming if things went according to plan. May God bestow me extra strength to see it through the coming days because the pain that was rotting inside my heart was contaminating me, slowly but surely, until there was nothing left in me to fight for Bass.
Chapter 5
“No matter how many gorgeous faces you set your eyes upon, if you already set your heart for someone, you will hardly notice anyone.”
-Ritu Ghatourey
Bass
“Bass, why don’t you come with us back to our cottage? We can continue drinking there.” Her hand rested on my chest, rubbing. I subtly backed away, smiling and declining her offer at the same time.
“Don’t play hard to get. You know you want to.” She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Once you have a taste of me, you’ll be hooked.”
Gold diggers, they were everywhere. Her persistent nature grated on me. “You know, you should learn not to sell yourself short. You need to learn how to wait until a guy asks you to have sex. Rethink your strategy. Maybe next time you might land a bigger fish in the ocean because this fish is already caught—hook, line and sinker.”
Shaking my head, I tipped my head back, finishing my beer before slamming it on the bar, leaving the gold digger behind. She needed to realize that promiscuous women, most of the time, don’t get taken seriously. The ladies of today needed to realize that playing hard to get works. It presents a challenge for us men. It’s in our nature to hunt. We loved the chase, but most of all, we loved the thrill of capturing our prize. A guy could appreciate a woman that way because she prided herself and knew her value.