Page 39 of Prized Possession

As much as it pains me, and no matter how much my pussy aches for him, he won’t change my mind.

Instead, I’ll have to spend the rest of my time here tossing and turning, rubbing my clit until it’s sore and sensitive, imagining it’s him. It’s nowhere near as good as the real thing, but it’s all I have right now.

I’m going to hold out the tiniest bit of hope that Marcus caves first, and that he’s so overcome with the need to touch me, he forgets all about his stupid request.

So, as I laid there in the early hours of the morning, in a sleep-deprived haze, I came up with a plan.

I need him to break his own rules and touch me, without me having to tell him my secret.

All I need to do is entice him enough that he can’t help himself. I need to make myself appear as sexy and as unavailable as I can, and hopefully that will drive him wild, the way he does to me.

With a plan in place, I finally manage to get a couple of hours of sleep, and it’s just after half past seven when I find myself wide awake again. I still feel oddly uncomfortable in my own skin.

It’s like I’m at war with myself… Part of my brain is focused on all the negative self-hatred that’s been consuming me for well over a year now, whereas there’s a nagging pit in my stomach that keeps replaying all the fucking amazing things that Marcus said about me, remembering all the ways he made me feel beautiful and special.

He’s not the sort of guy to just say things, so I have no doubt he meant every word. But believing them is something else altogether.

I get the feeling Marcus isn’t one to let the subject go until he’s sure every word has sunk deep into my marrow, until it’s so intrinsically a part of me that I have no choice but to believe them. I don’t know if that’s a relief or absolutely terrifying.

I’ve hidden behind my shame and self-loathing for so long, I can barely remember who I was before. But maybe I don’t need to remember who I used to be, and after all this time, I can focus on finding out who I am now.

With the thoughts running through my brain so much that I feel weighed down, and my flesh still tingling and unsatisfied, I pull myself out of bed with a groan. Sleep is long gone, so I may as well find some coffee.

After using the en-suite, I pull on some sweatpants, as I don’t think I can walk around Marcus’ flat in just the baggy T-shirt I usually sleep in. I pull my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head, hoping that a bit of fresh air blowing around my neck will help cool me down.

Remembering Marcus’ tour the night before—focusing on his tour of the apartment rather than what happened afterwards—I head in the direction of the kitchen. I’m shocked to see the light is already on, and there’s someone sitting on a bar stool at the island in the middle of the room, but it’s not Marcus.

I freeze in the doorway, and the man drags his eyes from his phone to look at me, his smile growing as he sees me.

“Morning. Do you want some coffee?” he asks, pointing over to the coffee machine on the counter.

I quickly recognise Miles. He’s been part of Marcus’ security for as long as I can remember, and his friend for longer than that. We all went to the same school, but I was never close to him, and over the past few years, I’ve only ever seen him by Marcus’ side.

He’s usually perfectly put together in a suit with his dark hair slicked back, which is totally different to how he looks now.

When he stands, his black sweatpants are baggy and hang dangerously low on his hips. The tight white T-shirt clings to his chest, and is almost see-through enough for me to see the hard ridges of his clearly defined abs.

His dark hair, that is usually gelled back, hangs loose around his face, and is long enough to curl slightly at the ends. A few errant strands fall in front of his eyes, and he flicks them away without much thought.

He’s also wearing dark-rimmed reading glasses that I’ve never seen on him before, and I have to admit, they give off a very sexy geek vibe that is totally at odds with his usual look, but a lot more appealing.

When he gives me a small smile, a dimple appears on one cheek, softening his whole face. He looks so much younger than he normally does, his face rounder and more boyish than when he’s in professional mode, looking stern.

I smile back, but I’m still thrown at him being here instead of Marcus. “Erm, hi. Yes, please,” I stutter, grateful he’s offering to make the coffee, as the machine looks complicated.

As he walks over and begins operating the machine, he talks to me over his shoulder. “I know you know who I am, and that we went to school together, but I’m going to formally introduce myself. I’m Miles, Marcus’ Head of Security, and his best friend.”

He turns to me, his cheeky smile growing as he hands me a steaming hot mug of coffee. It looks to be made just the way I like it, which is weird as I don’t remember telling him that I take milk. I look up at him in confusion.

“Er, thanks. I’m Chloe.” I feel like an idiot stating the obvious, but Miles doesn’t seem to care. I can’t help but ask, “How did you know how I take my coffee?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “I’m observant,” is his only reply, which is far too cryptic for me. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks, distracting me before I can get him to elaborate.

“Not too bad. The bed is lovely,” I admit, taking a sip of the coffee that is exactly how I like it.

“You can sit down, if you’d like,” Miles says, pointing to the bar stools on the opposite side of the island.

With a grateful nod, I move around to the stool, placing my coffee on the island before I jump up—it’s harder than I expected since I’m short. Miles chuckles as he watches my effort, and when I shoot him a glare, he covers his face with his hand.

---