FicWad

Patrick sat upon his couch, flickering through marine mammal websites with his stereo playing songs softly. Subconsciously he mouthed along to the music and bobbed his head along with the tunes. He kept his cell phone on the side of the table so he could keep an eye upon incoming calls. His hands twitched slightly as he breathed in a new bout of self control, anything to stop him from calling Beata again. To him, it was apparent she would still like to be left alone, and a barrage of phone calls from him wasn't going to help. If anything, she could become irritated by him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Patrick sighed and kept his eyes to the screen, soaking up the information with every word that he was reading. Keeping it in safe part of his mind for better use in better times. His thought process was slow and steady, a pace in time to the melodic music that was vibrating up to his ear. Through the beats and rhythm though a small rapping of wood came, interrupting the flow. Automatically his heartbeat sprung into the pulse of his neck. He placed his laptop down and scuffed his way to the front of his door where the knocking had become more persistent with each second that passed. Slightly irritated, Patrick swung the door open to find Beata, swaying softly on the spot.


"Oh hey!" he said out of surprise but joy, "It's good to see you."

"Hey hey Patrick" she giggled, "Can I come in?"

"Sure" he moved his body to let her past, she slipped in and a haze of whiskey scented the air as she moved in. Patrick automatically frowned at her as she stepped into his home and through to the living room, "Beata? Are you drunk?"

He followed her to find her staring at him, with lust in her eyes, lust and determination, mixing with the grey blue of her lens. She laughed again, "No no no I'm not drunk," she somewhat slurred, she lifted her fingers and pinched the air as if she was measuring, "Ok, maybe just a little bit."


"Lets get you home."

"Lets not, I am fine here thank you very much Patrick," she folded her arms and frowned at him, pouting like a child. She began to raise her voice. "Did you know you're friend is a liar? Pete is a liar, liar liar liar! Because he is there, with her! THAT SLUT! And fooooolishly, I went to get him back, but he's a LIAR, L-I-A-R"

"Damn" he said softly so he couldn't hear her, and without warning to him she lunged forward, pressing her lips against his, without subtlety. Beata covered her mouth with his and twisted him around so his legs pressed against the leather of his couch. Patrick, for a second got lost in the kiss and met hers with similar pressure, it wasn't until she moaned into his lips that he snapped into his senses. He pushed her off, "Wait, what are you doing?"

"This -"she replied and went forward, cupping his face and was about to kiss him again until he pushed her off again.



"Beata what the hell?"



"What's wrong Patrick?" She said, full of passion. She saucily moved her hips and strutted over to him. Pushing him with enough force to topple him onto the sofa. He began to scrapple himself up so he could stop her but she walked over. Pressing her hand on his chest and sending him back to recline on the sofa. She moved her legs and straddled him. Grabbing the hem of her t-shirt and pulling her top over her head to reveal her lacy bra smothering her pert breasts. Patrick ran his eyes over her body and Beata felt him become aroused.


"This is wrong!" He said in a hot whisper. Again, she flurried her face to sadness.

"Aww what's the matter Patrick? Don't you want me?" she leaned forward and kissed him feverishly, quick and small pecks upon his mouth.

He tried to stop her, "well yes but not like this."

Beata just threw her head back and began to laugh, swivelling her hips into his crouch as he grew harder and harder beneath her. Patrick groaned as her spiralling movements were hypnotising and he struggled against his hands, yearning to put him on her, craving to tear of her clothing and meet her needs. Beata smiled at him, running her tongue over the bottom of her teeth and took his mouth with hers. Foolishly he slipped his tongue in and danced wildly with hers. All thoughts dissolved into nothing as the warmth of her against him was entrancing. He felt weak against her advances and the small voice within his mind was telling him to do it, do what he was wanted to do ever since he found her. But as she gripped the tufts of hair peaking through his hat all he could think about was how this shouldn't happen, not now. Patrick placed his hands on his shoulders, peeling her of him.

"No Beata!" his tone was filled with authority and annoyance, "Stop it."



"Why?" she said, still seated upon him.



"Because you love Pete!" he forcefully spoke.


Beata leaned down and met his green eyes, they were filled with innocence and the hairs on the back of neck shivered as a shimmer of love went down. In an instant Beata was sobered, feeling the effects of the alcohol whittle away in the sparks of his eyes. Her own began to well up with the memories. "Pete?"

She removed herself from Patrick, who sat up to comfort her. Beata reached down to grab her top and she put it on, tears streaming down her face, black with the mascara that she was wearing. She sobbed without any influence over her emotions.

"Beata?" Patrick asked tenderly, rubbing her shoulder, but she flinched away from his sensitivity.


"I'm so sorry Patrick," she stood up within shock, "I am really sorry, please, can we forget this happened."

Beata grabbed her stuff and removed herself from his grasp. He stared at her as she walked out of his home and slammed the door behind her. Patrick reached his hand up to the imprint of her lips on his. They still tingled with the pleasure he gathered from her kiss, he hung his head. He sighed and stared at the ceiling above him as her engine drove off from him. Patrick had no strength, nor courage to chase after her, and admit his undying need of her.

******

Ciao Bella