Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

been so awful in my life that I’m being punished pining for a woman I can’t have? Even if she wasn’t with that fucking idiot, would she want more than just my cock? And am I seriously asking that question?

“If I have you, Ivy Montcalm, I won’t be the same,” I whisper to her picture. “You have the power to destroy me…”

Ivy

It’s been a few weeks, and I haven’t seen him. He makes no mention of it, either.

We’re biding our time. He doesn’t want to rush this and I…I don’t trust myself.

I study for my entrance exam in the evenings in the coffee shop around the corner. Last week I had a consultation with a divorce lawyer and learned what the process will be like. The wheels have been set in motion. Hopefully, Derek will sign the papers when the time comes.

Ana: I’m so proud of you, Ivy. You’ve got this. <3 Derek will finally accept the separation. He has no other choice. He’s rejected it for too long now. I think the papers have gotten through to him.

I go through the days with my face plastered to the phone, waiting for Aidan’s messages. When I get home from a long shift at work and settle in on the sofa, Aidan’s messages are the best part of my day.

We talk. God, we just talk. About anything and everything, and sometimes it’s the most filler conversation you’ve ever seen, but I know he’s just as ravenous for anything like I am.

Most of the time, the conversations are innocent. Sometimes…Sometimes he throws things in that make my heart speed and my body jittery. These usually happen in the middle of the night when I’m clutching the phone to my chest tight as I lay on the sofa. He sends them when he knows I’m alone. When he knows Derek is out drinking and I’m hanging onto his every word.

Aidan changes the tone of his messages, and he talks without a filter.

A.W.: I’m in bed, and I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about what I promised you. About what I’d do to you. I think about your red striped hair running through my fingers. Your beautiful plump lips. The way you licked that ice cream off your bottom lip. I wanted to bite that lip. I wanted to press you against the wall of your apartment building, slip my hand down your tiny little shorts. I wanted to make you moan. Fuck you with my fingers slowly. I wanted to own your cries and then bury myself inside you. Imagine that with me right now while you’re lying in bed.

It’s too soon. I need to slow down. I know I should shut him out and stop. But I’m already addicted.

I can’t stop.

I feel like if I don’t contribute to the conversations, I’m somehow slowing down the process of whatever the hell is happening between us. I’m convinced that’s what I need to do. I can’t dive in when I have all this mess to sort out around me. But I can’t cease communication, either. I don’t want to. I can’t bear it. I don’t know when it happened, but Aidan is a huge part of my life now. I don’t know what I would do without his voice.

I never respond to the seductive messages, but I read every single word with a thumping heart and thighs squeezed shut.

Thirteen

Ivy

This morning sucks.

Still hungover, Derek had smashed his alarm clock in a pissy mood. I was standing by the dresser, pulling out my clothes, hardly a foot away from the alarm clock. The flying debris cut into my ankle and wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“I’m not cleaning this up,” I told him, bitterly.

I sat at the edge of the bed, inspecting the damage on my ankle, waiting for an apology, but he wound up storming out for work, barely blinking in my direction.

Things are so broken here.

Ever since I told him we needed to end – that we’re over – things have been tense. We don’t talk. He’s delaying the inevitable by not addressing it, and every time I begin to approach him, he’s cutting the conversation short and running the other way. As a result, he’s getting angry at the smallest things. He’s out more, drinking, and he’s coming home in the early hours. I’m scared he’s going to lose his job. He’s been late many times because of these binges. If things continue on this downward trend, I may have to find a place to go. I’d still pay my share of the rent and utilities here until Derek finds a roommate or decides to rent a smaller place.

After he left, I re-read Ana’s recent message.

Ana: Allison used her sister card on me and crashed my guest bedroom. I don’t know how long she’s going to be here for, but my offer still stands, Ivy. If you don’t mind crashing on the couch, that is. I love you.

Ana’s apartment is tiny, like mine, with just that extra bedroom. Three women in that space might be too much. I try to convince myself I’m not that desperate just yet. That co-existing with Derek may still work, tension and all. I can't afford to go elsewhere.

I had to hobble around the kitchen with a rag tied around my ankle, quickly putting together a lunch because we have once again mismanaged our money and I can’t afford a sushi tray. All I could find was baloney that I can’t be sure has expired and stale multigrain bread.

The walk to work was shit. I didn’t have time to make a quick stop for coffee. I arrived a few minutes late and got a mouthful from Connie.

I’m tired because I spent hours last night waiting for Aidan to message me, but he has disappeared (and that hurts for some reason). My head is pounding from caffeine withdrawal, and my regular’s hairline touch up has turned into a full-blown nightmare with