Free This Man by Jodi Ellen Malpas

and I’m likely to explode.
    His kiss hardens, the grinding of his hips increasing. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he mumbles against my lips. ‘Don’t ruin this.’
    Don’t ruin this? Why is he pleading with me, or is he pleading with himself? But then it all becomes clear when I hear someone calling Jesse’s name. I recognise the cold, unfriendly voice as Sarah’s. And just like that, my building pleasure dies of death, retreating faster than it came.
    Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! I’m screaming it repeatedly in my head. My languid, worked up body suddenly stiffens, my fingers digging into Jesse’s shoulders.

    What am I doing? His girlfriend is prowling around, possibly outside, and I’m shacked up in here with her boyfriend’s hands all over me. I’m hideous!
    He deepens the kiss, pushing onto my lips to the point of pain, his tongue invading my mouth with urgency. I know he’s trying to keep me in the game. He releases my thigh and brings his hands to my hips to keep me still. He thinks I’m going to run. I am going to run. He releases my lips, my head dropping automatically.
    ‘The door’s locked.’ he assures me quietly.
    I can’t carry on with this now! I may not like the woman, but I’m not a home wrecker. I’ve done some damage, but I can stop this progressing to the point of no return. He brings one hand up to seize my jaw, tilting my head up and holding it firm as he focuses his green pools straight on me. His frown line is clear as he searches my eyes for something – hope, I think.
    ‘Please.’ he mouths.
    I shake my head slightly in his grasp, my gaze plummeting to his chest, my eyes squeezing shut. His hand tightens on my hip and he shakes my jaw slightly in a desperate attempt to drag me out of the shell I’ve crawled into.
    ‘Don’t run.’ He almost grinds the words out, making it sound more like an order.
    ‘I can’t do this.’ I whisper, feeling his hands drop away from me on a frustrated growl.
    ‘Jesse?’ I hear Sarah’s voice again, but closer this time.
    In a complete daze, I scoop my dress up from the floor before running into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and flipping the lock. I lean against the back of the door, virtually naked, trying to control my erratic breathing. I look up to the ceiling in an attempt to prevent the tears from falling. I’m so disappointed with myself.
    I think I hear the sound of muffled voices coming from the bedroom, and I try to stabilise my breathing so I can listen to what’s going on. But, there’s nothing. No noise, no talking…nothing. Damn me for being half naked so I can’t escape. Instead, I’ve resorted to fleeing into the bathroom, hiding like the desperate tart that I am. I’m not comfortable with these feelings. I’m truly ashamed of myself. I’ve been cheated on plenty of times, and I’ve annihilated all of those women who’ve intruded on my relationships. Over many a bottle of wine, I’ve condemned them, bad mouthed them and wished them some truly merciless reprisals. Now, I’m one of them. I groan, smacking the heel of my hand on my forehead.
    Tart!
    When I hear a door shut, I stiffen. Is that him leaving, or is he coming back? Either way, I need to get dressed. I search for my bra within the bunching material of my dress that’s gathered in my hands – no bra.
    Shaking my dress out frantically, I pray for its appearance but still…nothing. I sigh and step into my dress, pulling it up my body and reaching around to fasten the zip.
    I’ll have to do without because I’m certainly not attempting to retrieve it from the bedroom.
    I walk over to the mirror to inspect myself. It’s as I suspected; I look dreadful.
    My eyes are swimming with unshed tears, my lips swollen and red, and my cheeks are flushed. I look harassed; I am harassed.
    I try in vain to straighten myself out, so I can at least exit with a bit of dignity in tack, but there’s no escaping the distraught look I’m displaying. This will be the