Hey loves!! I’m so excited to announce that the third and final installment of “Dilemmas Of a Damsel” is here!!! Woooohooo! Can you believe that less than a year ago, I shared my first ever novel with the world?! I sure can’t. Well now you can get the COMPLETE 3-part series on Amazon!! Just follow the link here. Here’s a sneak peek of Kara’s story: she’s a hopeless romantic and messy as hell, but one of my favorite characters. Enjoy!
Fast forward to Monday at work. I’m staring at my computer, emotionally drained and longing for a cocktail. The office is eerily quiet, as many of my colleagues have already left for the day. Unfortunately, I have an important business plan due in the morning. Because of the sudden deadline, I’m forced to stay in the office much later than I’d like in order to get it done.
At half past six, I save my assignment and email it to Omar for his review and approval. Once I hit send, the events of the past weekend play over and over again in my mind. Defeated, I close my eyes and picture myself away on an island without a care in the world. Maybe I should take a sabbatical like Blair to clear my mind and get my life together once and for all. The thought is extremely appealing. Suddenly, my office phone rings, ripping me from my mental escape.
“This is Kara,” I answer.
Omar’s baritone voice surprises me, “Kara, I got your presentation. Can you come by my office please?”
“Sure,” I say before hanging up.
Shit!I didn’t expect him to still be here. The last thing I want to do is be alone with him. Honestly, I’m still put off by seeing him with Shante’. I mean yes, he’s married, and that’s his wife, but I never expected to have to interact with her. Truthfully, the whole ordeal kind of freaked me out. I reluctantly gather my things and shut down my computer before exiting my office and walking towards Omar’s. Once I reach his office door, I softly knock.
“Come in,” he calls out.
I open the door and peek inside, “Is something wrong with the presentation?”
He smiles, “No, it’s perfect. Are you going to come in?”
I bite my bottom lip with hesitation before fully stepping inside. As I do, he stands up and comes towards me, making sure to close the door behind me.
“Let’s not talk about work. I’ve missed you,” he reveals.
I stay silent as he leans in to kiss me. But instead of meeting him halfway, I turn my face looking out the large glass office window, rejecting his advances.
“What’s wrong?” he asks with his hands around my hips.
“I can’t get over how happy you and your wife looked at the luncheon,” I state. “If that’s the case, why are you dealing with me?”
My question astonishes him making his jaw become tense.
“You have to know that I didn’t plan for any of that to happen. What was I supposed to do?” he asks.
I cross my arms and shrug, “I don’t know. But don’t you feel bad? Shit, I do.”
He strokes my cheek with his knuckles, “Hey, hey. Don’t beat yourself up about this. Believe me; my wife is no angel.”
“Regardless of what she is, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I say.
Without saying another word, I turn and reach for the door anxious to go home. Before I can leave, he gently takes my hand, pleading.
“Kara, don’t end things like this. I’m sorry if you felt uncomfortable, but please know that I would never do that intentionally. I know that I can’t say much to justify my situation, but I think you’re an amazing woman. You deserve better; I’m sorry that I can’t give it to you right now; just give me some time,” he says.
My grip on the door handle loosens. I stand there, torn for a moment. I know that what we’re doing is wrong, it’s been wrong. But for some reason his words make me want him more. With everything that’s wrong with my life, this eerily feels right. He softly tugs on my hand, pulling me to him. The look in his eyes makes me want to melt, and deep down I know that I don’t want to continue to fight my feelings. As soon as our bodies touch, his lips are on mine.
I drop my bag onto the floor and pull him closer to me. No matter how wrong this is; I can’t deny the fire that burns between us. He picks me up and carries me over to his desk before pushing up my heather grey pencil skirt and placing me down. The coolness from the glass initially shocks my now burning hot skin. Omar yanks my lace thong off and runs his fingers through my hair before kissing my neck. I softly moan and feel the familiar desire growing in between my legs. I undo his trousers and push them towards the floor, anxious to feel his hardness inside of me.
With one swift movement, he rams into me, causing me to gasp. I relish the feeling of his member filling me inch by inch. Omar props my legs up as he expertly lifts his pelvis into me. I loop my arms around his neck and toss my head back, trying to control my moans. A part of me is scared of getting caught in such a controversial act, but the freak in me is turned on even more. He continues to move at a relentless pace, and I can feel my release building. I bite my bottom lip to muzzle my cries and lift my hips to match his rhythm. My movement sets Omar over the top, causing him to pant heavily against my neck. I hold him close until we both explode.
I make my way through the nearly secluded parking lot. The click of my heels echo loudly against the concrete. I feel like I’m floating. Every time I think that I have Omar figured out he finds a new way to surprise me, making me feel more confused than ever. Deep down, I know that I want to end things. But I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. He’s been upfront with me from the beginning, which is more than I can say about Rashad. Hell, at least Omar keeps things real and gives me a choice in all this. I feel my purse vibrate, and I reach inside to grab my phone. It’s an unknown number, but I answer anyway.
“Hello?” I say.
There’s no response. All I hear on the other end is someone breathing.
“Hello? Who is this?”
Before I can attempt to make sense of the odd call, my thoughts come to an abrupt stop when I see my car. Horrified, I don’t take another step. I quickly scan level two of the parking garage. There’s only one other car parked there, and it’s empty. I walk closer to my car and evaluate the damage. All of my tires have been slashed, key scratches stand out against the red paint job along the side of my passenger door, and the front windshield has been smashed in. It’s clear that this was intentional. But instead of allowing myself to become consumed by the idea of my car being vandalized and who the possible culprit could be, I quickly call the police.
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