Rosalie Stanton

Romance With Pitchforks

EROTIC ROMANCE AUTHOR.

PRODUCT MAY CONTAIN SACRILEGIOUS HUMOR, IRREVERENT BELIEFS, AND TOO-HOT-FOR-PRIME-TIME SEX SCENES.

VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

NaNo Excerpt

Alongside edits and reading manuscript duties, I am also trying to kill myself complete a NaNo project...though I'm getting worried it'll be longer than 50k and therein bleed into December. That's not my goal, but I can't control how long the story is, I guess. The characters will stop talking when they feel like it. Note: there are likely errors in this. What you're about to see is rough, un-cut and unedited.

“No,” he snapped, harsher than he meant.

Ginny’s head whipped up. “What?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“You’re not distracting me. We agreed we needed to talk.”

She shrugged. “By my count, we’ve done a lot of talking. Can’t we go back to fucking?”

“No.” He reached around her and placed his mug on the cabinet. “I want more than that.”

“I don’t have more to give.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t accept that.”

Fire reared behind her gorgeous, vibrant eyes. “Like I give a fuck! There’s the fucking door, wolf-boy. I’m offering you my body—nothing else. You can fucking take it or leave it.”

Oh, he wanted to take it. Right then there was nothing he’d like more than to seize her by the arms, throw her on the ground, and lose himself inside that hot cunt of hers. But goddammit, he was made of more shit than that.

And she was, too. No matter what she wanted him to think, no matter how desperately she tried to hide behind sex, no matter anything, he knew she wouldn’t be fighting so desperately if she didn’t feel she had something to lose.

The same thing he had to lose, even if she didn’t believe it.

And for all her posturing, Razor knew she was bluffing. She was too wound, shaking too hard, her eyes too wide and expressive. She danced so near the point of no return, her defenses flaring and the claws coming out. If he called her bluff and walked out the door, it wouldn’t be long before she followed.

But he wouldn’t leave. Not now. They were so close to something big.

Instead, he braced himself with a deep breath and stepped forward. "You don't want me to leave," he said.

Ginny pointed her chin up. "Try me."

"You're trying to prove to yourself that's what I want. I walk and that's all you need, isn't it? Everything you've told yourself about men reinforced, and you go on living in your bubble thinking you've made some grand point. That in the end, I was in it just for the sex." Another step. "But you're not throwing me out, Ginny. You invited me to leave but you didn't demand it."

She snorted but looked away. "Whatever you have to tell yourself. I don't get lose in semantics. I say what I mean."

"Do you actually believe that?" Razor took another step forward. "I'm not him."

That earned a response. Ginny's head snapped forward, her eyes locking with his. "What?" she snapped. "What is it you think you know?"

"You really think you're hiding it, don't you? Whatever he did—all that pain. You think you have it stuffed down somewhere no one can see or touch."

"Get out."

Razor shook his head once. Another bluff. "You don’t want me to leave."

"Did you not hear me or was I not clear enough that time? You need it in writing? Get the fuck out of my apartment."

He suppressed a small smile. "So I'm wrong then."

"I told you—"

"I heard. You don't want to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about!"

He inclined his head. "There was earlier. You asked if we could wait."

"Yes, and thank you so much for respecting my wishes. Some gentleman."

"I’d respect your wishes if you weren’t using it as an excuse. You're not the kind of girl to throw herself at strange men, Ginny."

Her brilliant eyes flared. "You don't know the first thing about me."

"I know if I wasn’t right it wouldn’t bug you this much."

"It's a little crazy how full of shit you are." Ginny blinked, a swelling of tears blinking in the corner of her eyes. He knew he was close, then. Close to getting past the first wall surrounding her heart—close to getting her to break.

The girl before him had stood strong as long as she could, fought her inner rage as long as she could. Perhaps standing up to him was what she needed.

© Rosalie Stanton 2016