Page 27 of Kings of Lust
I remember closing my eyes for just a second as his gym worked arm was slumped against me, pressing me into the sheets but also stopping my continuous tremble.
‘Mouse, you need to wake up,’ his husky voice purred in my ears, making me jump in a sitting position on spot.
‘Did I fall asleep?’ My voice cracked and startled.
‘Yes, for an hour or so. People are starting to leave. We should go too, but you can come back to my place. Continue where we left off.’
Was there something left to continue!?
I turned to see if he was kidding.
He wasn’t!
Just a wide grin spread on his face — a hazard sign flashing at me. Nuclear hazard.
I didn’t even realize when I was rushing through the pile of clothes, trying to find my own while his boxers seemed to have caught on to the heel of my stilettos.
‘Can I have those back? Or are you keeping them as a memory?’ he blazed a smile while standing in the middle of the bedroom in his birthday suit.
‘Y...yess,’ I babbled awkwardly, trying to get them unstuck from my shoes.
Things seemed utterly amusing to him, as I was trying to get dressed while gazing in a mirror at my electrified hair and ruined make-up.
‘Shit, I look like hell.’
‘No, you look like I’ve just fucked you,’ the devil sneaked behind me, untying the traps of my corset so I could somehow put it back together.
‘Can you please stop talking like that?’
‘Yeah, I’ll stop. I’ll stop when I’m sure that my words don’t make you wet in anticipation. I’ll stop when these no longer respond to my words,’ he sneaked a hand over my waist, tugging my body closer so he could devour one of my quivering nipples with his lips.
He was right, and I loathed it. My body seemed to have a certain reaction to his rudeness as a hollow sensation was created in the center of my stomach and the need to hold back the tingles below my mid-waist was growing exponentially with every stupid thing he seemed to say.
Ugh...I hated him for knowing exactly how to control me. For knowing things even I wasn’t aware I wanted. But I could never allow him to know that. Could I? That would provide him total control.
‘You think you’ve got me all figured out. That I was dying to get in bed with you but wasn’t able to find a way to directly tell you,’ I let my eyes roll, as the truth was somewhere in the middle.
Maybe with a different attitude, I could have fallen for him. But not like this. At least that’s what I wanted myself to think...
‘I tried to play nice. Just when I thought we were getting somewhere. I guess I’ll need to reconsider the way I handle our relationship. A much more entertaining approach...,’ pulling his jeans on, he stormed out the door with his shirt in one hand, his jacket in the other, and a part of me tucked somewhere deep within him. A part that he’d never let go of.
What had I just done? I guess I had stepped on his manly ego. But I only had a choice between bruising it or feeding it, and I couldn’t allow it to get any larger than it already was, even if I was left withwhat the fuck did just happen to mefeeling.
I knew exactly what my choice meant— torture.
He would try his best to show me I was wrong, or worse, punish me for daring not to praise the king. But I couldn’t worry about that, not in those seconds when my body was still vibrating from him being inside of me.
With the cunning abilities of a cat burglar I snuck out, clinging to any shadow I could find, hoping that no one saw me leaving the room. Sure, the chances were they noticed us entering it, as curious eyes were constantly following our every move, but at least they didn’t get to watch me leave. No one had any proof, like that it would even matter to someone except for me.
At some point between running and sneaking, I took out the phone to call for my car but remembered I also needed to text a certain someone.
Are you sleeping?
It was Ferris to whom I pressedsend to.
Though no reply came, at least not by the time I arrived home and got into the shower. Like the hot pulsing water could ever wash my shame away.
Every bone in my body seemed to be hurting as I found a new meaning for sore. Pulling on a peach velvet sweatshirt and matching pants, I threw myself on the couch, picking up the phone, involuntary hoping that Ferris hadn’t replied.
