Chapter 21

21

Shelby

That night I'm in bed. Alone.

I'm doing my normal routine as a mom where I stare at the ceiling and think about the entire day. Everything I've done as a mother and as a human, questioning myself. And then of course worrying about tomorrow.

I always try to break it down into a more simplistic approach.

Oakley is fine. He ate today. He had things to drink. He went to school. He did homework. He complained. But that only means in his mind he has something to complain about. He has a place to live. A place to sleep. He's fine.

That part settles.

It's the other part.

Faust.

Every single second we're alone together we just want to screw.

There's nothing wrong with that.

So why did you stop him then? He wanted you!

I think about Faust and his tight hold on my wrists. Holding my hands above my head. His body pressed against mine. Commanding and protective.

We had the entire place to ourselves. My new apartment. His apartment. Every room. Every square foot.

It's the look in his eyes, okay? That's what it is. Of course I want him to touch me and taste me and take me. I want all of that. I hadn't had anyone since him! The night I got pregnant with Oakley!

But the look in his eyes…

He wants to hate fuck me.

He's mad at me and wants to fuck me with his anger.

When I think that, I grab at the sheets tighter.

I only do so because… that turns me on.

Thinking about Faust grabbing me and having his way with me.

I force myself to shut my eyes.

I feel sleep start to wash over me.

I hope to have a bunch of wild, hot dreams featuring Faust…

… but I'm sure I'll just have normal panicky dreams of me wondering if I'm a good mother or not.

Faust shows up in the morning to have breakfast with Oakley. Then he has to go handle some hockey business.

Oakley gets a hug. I get a nod.

Oh, wow, big tough hockey guy, huh? Mad that I wouldn't let you fuck me on command so now I get the cold shoulder?

After taking Oakley to school, it's me and my laptop bag.

I stop at a café, order coffee and get myself set up to write some serious words.

I tell myself if I can get maybe five good chapters in the next few days I can send those off to my agent and get some momentum in my corner.

It doesn't matter right now what happens with Faust. I have to take care of myself and I have to take care of my son. Which I am. Which I have been. Which I will continue to do.

I type.

I sip coffee.

Half the stuff I type I delete.

It's angry and violent.

My little vampire romance novel is turning into a full-fledged horror novel.

That's not good.

All my vampire wants to do is bite and fuck.

My female lead is defiant and cute and wants to be stubborn, but she's so subdued by the vampire…

I pause everything for a moment and think.

Her power is her blood. The vampire wants her blood. She can give it to him or he can just take it from her…

I type a little more.

My coffee gets too cool to drink and the coffeehouse jazz is starting to tear at the insides of my ears.

I pack up and leave.

There's still plenty of hours in the day before Oakley has to get picked up from school.

While I tell myself I'll go back to the apartment and write some more, I'm well aware of how great a hot shower and a nap would feel right now. Or maybe just sit around and panic, wondering if this vampire romance story is right for me. Debate on calling my agent and begging her to help me figure out something to write. Something I can write faster. Something that can make some money right now.

Once I'm back at the apartment I end up opening my laptop again and decide on more coffee.

More coffee! More typing! You've got his, Shelby!

As I start to set up the coffee I hear a noise on the other side of the wall.

At first it's a single thumping noise.

Just once and done. As if someone dropped a large book on the floor.

I go to scoop another hearty serving of ground coffee and I hear the same noise.

This time it's louder.

And it starts to sound like consistent thumping…

Like something hitting the wall.

I try to ignore it.

Whatever is going on in Faust's apartment right now is not my-

There's a moan.

I freeze.

I hear a second moan. This one much louder.

It's a female moan.

It's a female… having sex … moan.

I stand there with a spoonful of ground coffee and listen to the noises on the other side of the wall.

There's thumping and moaning and groaning.

I place my hand against the wall but I don't feel anything.

It's weird but it's definitely…

He's fucking someone right now?

Really?

It's lunchtime. Eat a sandwich or something!

I give up on my quest for more coffee and find myself creeping out of the kitchen toward the dining area. I bite my lip, knowing this isn't my business at all, but I kind of can't help myself.

I turn my head, close my eyes, and press my ear to the wall.

I swallow hard.

The sound isn't clear but it's there.

These walls are built nice and thick, so to hear something means…

He's really giving it to her.

A woman's voice is definitely crying out with pleasure. And not just something casual either. This is… steamy.

I hear the woman call out, "Fuck me, Daddy!"

I step away from the wall and my jaw drops.

There's a sudden rush of anger that I know truly is jealousy.

But it's easier to claim anger.

I'd rather be pissed off at Faust than jealous.

I tell myself to just make coffee and type words. Whatever Faust wants to do with his dick, that's his thing.

Then I casually remember that I have taken part in enjoying his dick.

Recently too.

I swallow hard and try not to feel creeped out or anything.

I mean, if he's screwing other women… and then I went down on him…

"Okay, Shelby, that's enough of that," I say.

In my head I'm turning away but in reality I'm not.

I can't turn away.

I… I want to hear Faust fucking someone… but why?

Nothing makes sense so I put my ear to the wall again to listen.

I don't know why I gasp when I hear the moans from a woman again.

This time I back away from the wall and I promise myself I'm not going to listen to this any longer.

Nope. No thanks. I'm…

I look at the apartment door and I smirk.

I bite my bottom lip and think about this for a second…

It's stupid. It's petty. It's total jealousy.

But you know what?

I haven't had sex in seven years.

Okay?

The last time I had sex it was the night after my best friend's funeral and it was with my best friend's boyfriend.

My sex life has been nonexistent and somehow that makes me feel guilty for how I feel.

I nod and make my final decision.

I mean, after all, why can't a neighbor go next door, knock on the door, and complain about the noise?