Stuck Inside Of Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again: Part Seven
Title: Stuck Inside Of Mobile... (Part Seven)
Pairing: Bob Dylan/OC's
Rating: Mature
Author: Me, Jazmyn (X
Disclaimer: I own everything but Bob Dylan and the song title belongs to Bob as well <3
Author's Note: This story is based of the song with same title of this story.
It doesn’t take me long to find the hotel I’m staying at and when I do, I ignore the stupid girl at the counter from yesterday, who’s giving me a nuts look.
I go up to my room quickly, and slam the door shut.
I quickly go over to the phone and dial Albert’s number.
I hold the phone to my ear, biting my lip nervously.
“Hello?” He sounds busy.
“Albert its Bob.” I say, running my long thumb nail on my bottom lip.
“Ahaha, Bobby, Chris told me everything.”
My heart freezes, “Everything…?”
“Well, He told me everything important, the reasons on why you didn’t call.”
“I don’t care I hate him. Just get someone over here, to get me, okay?” I’m panicking and it’s a horrible feeling.
“Bob, I can’t now. You’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow now.”
“No! Albert come on, do your job! Take care of me!” I shout.
“Bob, you didn’t call on time, now you have to wait another day. Do you have enough money for another night?”
“Yeah, but I just wanna go home!” I say.
“Calm down Bob, you’ll get to come home, just don’t leave the room. Didn’t I tell you that yesterday? And then what happened?” He snapped, like he was my dad or something. Which it felt like he was.
“I had to get cigarettes.” I wine.
“At what time?” He says.
“…It was nighttime…”
“Well then, go get some while it’s still day time.”
“Okay, okay.” I sigh.
“Why don’t you go do that now? And give me a call when you get back. You I’ll know you came back this time.”
I blush feeling like a baby, “Okay…”
“Okay, bye Bob.”
“Bye.”
Thankfully the money is still in my pocket, but I should have at least asked Chris for my clothes back, dammit.
Then there’s a knock on my door.
I contemplate opening it, after all the crazy shit that’s been happening to me, I don’t need to see anyone right now.
I groan and walk to the door.
“Who is it?” I call.
“Room Service.” And it sounds like a woman…I think.
So I open the door.
My face falls.
“Damn it, I said I never wanted to see you again.”
He smiles and lifts up my bag, “Just thought you’d want your stuff back.”
My eyes land on the bag.
Wasn’t I just saying how I wished my shit was back?
Hm, weird.
I grab it from him but he’s still got a hold on it too.
“I’m sorry Bob, please, don’t leave me.” He actually does look serious.
I narrow my blue eyes and purse my lips, “How about…Fuck no?” I snap, tugging on my bag, but he doesn’t let up.
Instead he pushes me into the room and shuts the door.
“Chris please, I don’t want you back. After that move you pulled. Hell no.” I say and he harshly pulls the bag from my hands and tosses it aside.
He grabs me and pushes me to the wall.
He grabs my face, his other hand moving down my body and he looks into my eyes.
“I love you, Bob Dylan.” He says then he leans down, putting his face into my neck, kissing it.
I almost want to give in to the feelings, it would be so easy and nice to, but no.
“Chris get the hell away from me.”
“Just let me drive you home, I’ll drive you home.”
God damn, it would be nice to go home…
“Al is getting me home tomorrow.” I say and close my eyes and his hand caresses on my lower back, causing me to moan.
“Oh but baby…I could get you home today.” His tongue flicks out across my neck and I nearly melt.
Why do I let him do this?
We fuck on the bed, me clawing at his back, while he lunges forward against my body. The feeling of him inside me is so pleasantly familiar but I feel stupid for giving in so easily.
I arch up off the bed as I come, screaming out his name.
He groans at the sight and continues to move inside me, gripping the life out of my thin hips.
When he finally comes he whispers my name into my ear and I feel it shooting inside me, warm and wet.
He pulls out and I gasp at the feeling.
He runs his thumbs along my sharp hipbones and we’re both panting.
I run my fingers through my curly tangled hair.
“I need to shower.” I say.
--
To Be Continued.