Sarah Tork

“But I love you.” His green eyes looked sad. “It was a fucked up week, a misunderstanding that we both took too far. How come I can forget, but you can’t?” “Because, I’m not a masochist.” I smirked, bitterly. “Last time, was really the last time for us.”
― Sarah Tork, What My Heart Wants

“What did I do now?” He reluctantly pulled the car the curb.

I needed to get out of this car – like now. I couldn’t breathe.

I unbuckled and flung open the door.

“Thanks for the ride. Bye.”

I slammed the door shut and began down the sidewalk. Behind me, I heard the engine turn off and his door open and shut. I quickened my stride as James jogged up to me. I slowed down knowing I couldn’t escape his long legs anyway. Plus, I didn’t want to get home all sweaty and have to explain myself.

“What happened?” James asked, matching my pace.

“Leave me alone!” I snapped back. I felt his hand grab my elbow, halting me easily.

“Stop,” he ordered.

Damn it, he’s strong!

“What are you pissed about now?” He towered over me. I was trapped in front of him, if he tugged a bit, I’d be in his embrace.

“It’s so funny huh? I’m that bad? I’m a clown, I’m so funny!” I jerked my arm, trying to break free of his grip. “Let me go!”

“No!” He squeezed tighter, pulling me closer.

“Leave me alone!” I spit the words like venom, pulling my arm with all my might.

“What’s your problem?” James demanded loudly. His hand tightened on my arm with each attempt to pull away. My energy was dwindling and I was mentally exhausted. I stopped jerking my arm back, deciding it was pointless because he was too strong; there was no way I could pull my arm back without first kneeing him in the balls.

We were alone, standing in the dark of night in a neighborhood that didn’t see much traffic.

“Fireball?” he murmured softly.

“What?” I replied quietly, defeated.

Hesitantly, he asked, “Did I say something to make you sad?”

I wasn’t going to mention the boyfriend thing; there was no way.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

That’s just great, way to sound strong there, now he’ll have no reason not to pity you!

“I’m sorry,” came his quiet reply.

Well maybe ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t good enough. The damage is already done!

“Whatever.”

“What can I do to make it all better?”

“There’s nothing you could–” I began but was interrupted by him pulling me against his body. His arms encircled my waist, holding me tight. My arms instinctively bent upwards, hands firmly planted against his solid chest. Any resentment I had swiftly melted away as something brand new took its place: pleasure.

Jesus!

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked him softly; his face was only a few inches from mine.

“What do you think you’re doing?” James asked back, looking down at my hands on his chest. I slowly slid my arms up around his neck.

I can’t believe I just did that!

“That’s better.”

Our bodies were plastered against one another; I felt a new kind of nervousness touch every single inch of my body, it prickled electrically.

“James,” I murmured softly.

“Fireball,” he whispered back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I repeated; my brain felt frozen. My heart had stopped beating a mile a minute instead issuing slow, heavy beats.

James uncurled one of his arms from my waist and trailed it along my back to the base of my neck, holding it firmly yet delicately. Blood rushed to the very spot he was holding, heat filled my eyes as I stared at him.

“What are you doing?” My bewilderment was audible in the hush.

I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to speak anymore. That function had fled along with the bitch. Her replacement was a delicate flower that yearned to be touched and taken care of. I felt his hand shift on my neck, ever so slightly, causing my head to tilt up to him. Slowly, inch by inch, his face descended on mine, stopping just a breath away from my trembling lips.

I wanted it. Badly. My lips parted a fraction, letting a thread of air escape.

“Can I?” His breath was warm on my lips.

Fuck it!

“Yeah,” I whispered back. He closed the distance until his lush lips covered mine.

My first kiss…damn!

His lips moved softly over mine. I felt his grip on my neck squeeze as his lips pressed deeper into”
― Sarah Tork, Young Annabelle