SIX by Ker Dukey Page B

apartment.
    Pausing in front of the door, I debate over how to proceed.
    Do I knock? Fuck it .
    Opening the door, I call out, “Misty.”
    A thud and whoosh sounds from her room.
    Tripping out the door and righting herself, she appears in panties and a fucking tank top, her hair all over the place.
    “What were you doing?”
    “Who…me? Oh, exercising.” She looks to the bedroom and then reaches for the handle to shut her door.
    Sickness bubbles up in my gut, and then rage.
    “Is someone in there?” I bellow.
    Her mouth goes wide before she composes her face and puts her hands on her full, exposed hips.
    “What’s that got to do with you?” she shouts back, but my feet are moving before she even finishes her sentence.
    I barge into her room with her screeching, “Get out!” at my back.
    The room is warm, like the sun kissing my skin.
    The scent in the air is musky and sexual.
    Her bed is all messed up and lying on the covers is a pink vibrator. Shit
    “Is that yours?” Of course it is.
    Pushing past me, she throws the comforter over the mattress, taking with it the pink cock.
    “Thank you for this mortifying experience. If you’re just going to walk in here whenever you feel like it, I’m going to have to find other arrangements.”
    She’s pissed.
    She can’t look at me and her cheeks have never been that shade of red before. But why wouldn’t she be? I’ve invaded her privacy and caught her being a dirty girl when all this time I thought she’d be one of those women who sneezed to get off—not expressive and wanton with her little toys.
    Mmm , watching her would be something else.
    My eyes stay glued to the bed.
    She was in here fucking herself.
    Fuck, I want to suck that stupid rubber cock just to taste her.
    “You can’t do this! You act like I’m your property, but then you don’t want to take it anywhere. You need to decide how you want it because if there was a man in here, it wouldn’t be any of your business, and you can’t go around throwing that huge, muscly body about.”
    She just doesn’t get that I wouldn’t be good for her.
    If only she knew the real me.
    “Sometimes the coin is just too big to fit through the slot,” I tell her.
    Her eyes squint and she rears back. “Are you talking about your cock?”
    Why did she have to say cock?
    “No, it’s a metaphor. Maybe we’re just not compatible,” I clarify, trying not to let the smile that wants to lift my lips from doing just that.
    “Sexually? You mean because you have some mammoth cock? You need to get over yourself, King of the Shlongs.”
    Who is this feisty, funny as shit woman?
    “I’m not talking about my junk, Misty. Fuck.”
    I run my hands through my hair. “I mean, a circle doesn’t fit a square.”
    Her eyes get big and she raises one eyebrow.
    “We’re very different people,” I clarify again.
    “Or you’re scared.”
    “I’m not scared of anything.”
    “You’re scared of feeling. You’re scared of being with me and actually liking it and wanting to come back for more.”
    She wasn’t wrong and I didn’t know how to answer.
    “You think if we give in to this heat between us, you’ll want it to be a one-time thing and I’ll slit my wrists and make you clean up the blood or some shit.”
    My head jerks on my shoulders, my nose crinkling.
    “No, that’s dark.”
    She rolls her eyes at me. “When you realize I’m a risk worth taking, you let me know. Until then, don’t tell me how to dress, who I can fuck, and if I can date.” She goes to walk away, but I grab her wrist, stopping her.
    “What do you mean who you can date. Do you have a date?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Mist.”
    She huffs. “No.”
    And with that one word, she just saved someone’s life.
    I don’t want to be with her because she deserves someone better, but there would never be anyone good enough.
    Shit, I’m an asshole.
    “I have no problem with you dating your pink friend in there.” I smirk.
    “Get out.”
    “I came