Free Hold Me in Contempt by Wendy Williams Page A

first time we had sex, I cried like a baby. And it wasn’t because it was bad. Paul was a master performer in bed. He came at me like he wanted to take something I had. And just when I thought I was about to let him take it, he picked me up and sat me on a hard penis that made me give myself to him freely. But he didn’t just sit there. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held my back up with his forearms. He wrapped his hands over my shoulders and thrust himself into me like he knew what I’d been searching for.
    â€œI can’t,” I moaned, remembering how he’d come at me so many nights in the very bed that was just two feet away from us.
    â€œYes you can,” Paul said, slipping his hand around my back to unzip my skirt. “Let me show you how much I miss you.” He licked my ear and whispered, “Don’t you want this dick?” before sliding my hand over his throbbing penis.
    I nearly fell to the floor along with my skirt.
    â€œShit,” I whimpered before snatching my hand away.
    Paul grabbed both of my arms and began kissing my neck wildly.
    I was overwhelmed. I closed my eyes but I saw everything going on in the room. Hell, I even saw into the future. How his deep dark muscles would look once he took off his shirt. Him holding my hands to the headboard from behind. His chin resting in the cup between my neck and shoulder. His pelvis jerking and his pulsating just before he climaxed. “Oh, fuck!” I sighed loudly. “Don’t! Please don’t! Stop!”
    I took in another breath and quickly noticed that the heat that had been in front of me was gone. I opened my eyes and saw that Paul had let go of me and backed away. He looked lost, bewildered.
    â€œWhat?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œYou just told me not to,” he said soberly.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou said no and then you told me not to. You said, ‘Please don’t. Stop!’ ”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo, you’ve never said that before,” he said.
    â€œOf course I have.”
    â€œNo. I would’ve stopped. I can’t touch you after you say something like that. It’s just too . . .  ​too . . .  ​rapey.”
    â€œRapey?”
    â€œYes. Every man knows that. If a woman says no, and don’t, you have to stop. You fucked up the mood.” He looked down at his crotch. “I mean, my dick is soft and everything. Nothing like a woman saying those words to make a brother go soft.”
    â€œAre you freaking kidding?” I said.
    â€œNo. I’m not kidding. Nothing I can do about it now. Maybe you could . . .  ​you know . . .  ​get me back up.”
    â€œNo. That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I don’t care about your dick getting soft. I didn’t invite you here. You just showed up. I didn’t even want to have sex with you.”
    â€œOh no, you’re making it worse. Just stop talking,” Paul said, laughing nervously.
    â€œLeave!” I pointed out of the bedroom. “Since you’re listening to everything I say now, follow my instructions and leave.”
    â€œCome on, Kiki—”
    â€œDon’t you dare call me that again!”
    It took ten more minutes to get Paul out the front door. He pulled out every trick in the book to try to make me feel sorry for “ruining the mood,” but it was all pathetic because I wasn’t trying to be in any mood—especially not with him. Even if he quit his job and got a divorce tomorrow, he wasn’t a better pick than Ronald. He was just a different kind of yesterday. As much as he wanted me and “missed me,” he was the kind of man who wanted me to want and miss him more. That was what the whole scene in the bedroom was about. Somehow, I was supposed to be convinced that I’d ruined a perfect evening by saying