Uncivilized
Page 84
For about the millionth time, I rage inside over the unfairness of my situation. I’ve so long ago committed my heart and my loyalties to Caraica that I feel powerless to do anything but return. It almost feels like a moral obligation at this point. I know when that time comes, I’m going to be devastated to leave Moira.
I know without a doubt her memory will haunt me, and not just because of the stellar sex. No, it’s turned into something so much more than that. My ability to talk to her for hours on end and even my ability to sit in absolute but comfortable silence with her is a treasure I’ve never had. Not even with Paraila.
That thought also darkens my mood to a foul blackness and suddenly, her hands upon me seem almost stifling.
Pulling Moira’s arms away from me, I step out of her embrace and turn to face her. “You better start getting ready. We’re going to have to leave soon for the party.”
Disappointment fills her eyes, but she gives me a smiling nod of understanding and heads for the bathroom. I think briefly of joining her in the shower, but then decide against it. I don’t think I can handle intimacy with her right at this very moment.
“So, then the priest looks at the bottle and says, ‘Good Lord! He’s done it again’.”
Everyone standing in our group laughs uproariously, and I plaster a fake smile on my face. I didn’t get that joke, nor the other two the pudgy bastard had told the cream of Atlanta’s society.
Looking around the massive ballroom that sits in the east wing of Randall’s mansion, my eyes search for Moira. She had walked off several minutes ago to use the restroom, and my skin was itching to have her back at my side. I feel uncomfortable with these people that I have nothing in common with, and it’s torture trying to bear up under their scrutiny.
Finally… there she is… walking back in with a confident and graceful stride. She’s wearing a strapless, white gown that plunges low in between her br**sts, knotted in the center of her chest with a crystal, rhinestone flower. When she walks, a slit up the side reveals her long legs with her feet encased in crystal-studded sandals that add about four inches of height on her. Perfect alignment for me to f**k her standing up without having to bend my knees to compensate for the height difference.
I pull away silently from the group and make my way across the floor to her. Reaching out, I grab two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter and when her eyes land on me, they shine with delight and tenderness.
We come together, and I hand her the glass. Her delicate fingers take it from me, and she takes a small sip.
“You look like you could use this more than me,” she murmurs.
“These people are strange,” I tell her. “If one more person asks me what monkey tastes like or if I crap in the jungle, I’m going to strangle someone.”
“Has it really been that bad?” she asks in commiseration.
Anger sparks within me, but I rein it in tight. It’s not for Moira. “These people are so condescending to me. Half of them talk slowly to me like I’m a half-wit.”
Rage flashes across Moira’s face. “Who did that? I’ll f**king have their balls. Randall will have their f**king balls.”
“Easy there, tiger,” I tell her, my chest flushing warmly over her protectiveness of me. “I’m a novelty. I get it. But I can’t f**king stand this party.”
Moira smiles and places her hand on my chest. “We’ll leave soon. I’m sure Randall would understand.”
Reaching my free hand out, I trace my fingers along her cheek. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”
Her hand comes up to cover mine, and her eyes close briefly as she nuzzles into my caress. “It’s okay. We all need that one person we can just vent to.”
“And you’ll be that person for me?” I ask in amusement.
Her eyes bore into me with utter seriousness and purpose. “I’ll be your everything if you want me to.”
Fuck yes, I want that.
Fuck no, I can’t have that. Not when we’ll eventually be living on two different continents.
Rather than give her affirmation, I pull our joined hands away from her face and lean in to give her a soft kiss. She sighs so softly, like a flower opening up its petals, and it makes me want to crush her to me.
“Isn’t that sweet?” I hear a woman’s voice from behind me. “Looks like your little secret is out in the open. Congratulations to you.”
Turning to face Cara, I pull Moira protectively into my side. It’s amazing that I had once thought this woman beautiful, from a purely male appreciative standpoint. But knowing what I know about her, and knowing that she has malice toward Moira and wanted to taint her with a disgusting offer of group sex and drugs, has me feeling more than a little dangerous at the moment.
Cara stands there, wearing a blood-red gown, her hair piled with sophistication on top of her head. She’s holding a tumbler full of amber liquid and by the glaze in her eyes and the slight way in which she sways back and forth, I can tell she’s drunk.
“Where’s your date tonight?” I sneer. “Oh, wait… that would be your brother, right?”
Cara merely cocks up a perfectly arched eyebrow over my audacity. While my preference is to fight with fists and blades, I can sharpen my words when I need to.
“How dare you think to judge me?” Cara says snidely. “You’re nothing more than a jungle rat trying to fit into a society that will never accept the likes of you. You’re nothing and you’ll never amount to anything here, hard as you might like to try. So, enjoy your time here while you can, Tarzan. Then run back to your little home and try to remember all the ways in which you failed. I’m betting Moira will be grateful to get rid of you, leech, but then again, she’s one of those women that look easy to appease. I’m sure she’ll be f**king her next pet Indian as soon as you’re gone.”
I know without a doubt her memory will haunt me, and not just because of the stellar sex. No, it’s turned into something so much more than that. My ability to talk to her for hours on end and even my ability to sit in absolute but comfortable silence with her is a treasure I’ve never had. Not even with Paraila.
That thought also darkens my mood to a foul blackness and suddenly, her hands upon me seem almost stifling.
Pulling Moira’s arms away from me, I step out of her embrace and turn to face her. “You better start getting ready. We’re going to have to leave soon for the party.”
Disappointment fills her eyes, but she gives me a smiling nod of understanding and heads for the bathroom. I think briefly of joining her in the shower, but then decide against it. I don’t think I can handle intimacy with her right at this very moment.
“So, then the priest looks at the bottle and says, ‘Good Lord! He’s done it again’.”
Everyone standing in our group laughs uproariously, and I plaster a fake smile on my face. I didn’t get that joke, nor the other two the pudgy bastard had told the cream of Atlanta’s society.
Looking around the massive ballroom that sits in the east wing of Randall’s mansion, my eyes search for Moira. She had walked off several minutes ago to use the restroom, and my skin was itching to have her back at my side. I feel uncomfortable with these people that I have nothing in common with, and it’s torture trying to bear up under their scrutiny.
Finally… there she is… walking back in with a confident and graceful stride. She’s wearing a strapless, white gown that plunges low in between her br**sts, knotted in the center of her chest with a crystal, rhinestone flower. When she walks, a slit up the side reveals her long legs with her feet encased in crystal-studded sandals that add about four inches of height on her. Perfect alignment for me to f**k her standing up without having to bend my knees to compensate for the height difference.
I pull away silently from the group and make my way across the floor to her. Reaching out, I grab two glasses of champagne from a nearby waiter and when her eyes land on me, they shine with delight and tenderness.
We come together, and I hand her the glass. Her delicate fingers take it from me, and she takes a small sip.
“You look like you could use this more than me,” she murmurs.
“These people are strange,” I tell her. “If one more person asks me what monkey tastes like or if I crap in the jungle, I’m going to strangle someone.”
“Has it really been that bad?” she asks in commiseration.
Anger sparks within me, but I rein it in tight. It’s not for Moira. “These people are so condescending to me. Half of them talk slowly to me like I’m a half-wit.”
Rage flashes across Moira’s face. “Who did that? I’ll f**king have their balls. Randall will have their f**king balls.”
“Easy there, tiger,” I tell her, my chest flushing warmly over her protectiveness of me. “I’m a novelty. I get it. But I can’t f**king stand this party.”
Moira smiles and places her hand on my chest. “We’ll leave soon. I’m sure Randall would understand.”
Reaching my free hand out, I trace my fingers along her cheek. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I shouldn’t take my frustration out on you.”
Her hand comes up to cover mine, and her eyes close briefly as she nuzzles into my caress. “It’s okay. We all need that one person we can just vent to.”
“And you’ll be that person for me?” I ask in amusement.
Her eyes bore into me with utter seriousness and purpose. “I’ll be your everything if you want me to.”
Fuck yes, I want that.
Fuck no, I can’t have that. Not when we’ll eventually be living on two different continents.
Rather than give her affirmation, I pull our joined hands away from her face and lean in to give her a soft kiss. She sighs so softly, like a flower opening up its petals, and it makes me want to crush her to me.
“Isn’t that sweet?” I hear a woman’s voice from behind me. “Looks like your little secret is out in the open. Congratulations to you.”
Turning to face Cara, I pull Moira protectively into my side. It’s amazing that I had once thought this woman beautiful, from a purely male appreciative standpoint. But knowing what I know about her, and knowing that she has malice toward Moira and wanted to taint her with a disgusting offer of group sex and drugs, has me feeling more than a little dangerous at the moment.
Cara stands there, wearing a blood-red gown, her hair piled with sophistication on top of her head. She’s holding a tumbler full of amber liquid and by the glaze in her eyes and the slight way in which she sways back and forth, I can tell she’s drunk.
“Where’s your date tonight?” I sneer. “Oh, wait… that would be your brother, right?”
Cara merely cocks up a perfectly arched eyebrow over my audacity. While my preference is to fight with fists and blades, I can sharpen my words when I need to.
“How dare you think to judge me?” Cara says snidely. “You’re nothing more than a jungle rat trying to fit into a society that will never accept the likes of you. You’re nothing and you’ll never amount to anything here, hard as you might like to try. So, enjoy your time here while you can, Tarzan. Then run back to your little home and try to remember all the ways in which you failed. I’m betting Moira will be grateful to get rid of you, leech, but then again, she’s one of those women that look easy to appease. I’m sure she’ll be f**king her next pet Indian as soon as you’re gone.”
