"I will, and so many other things." Even if he hadn't meant it to sound dirty, it had come out like that. My body responded by shivering, and he noticed it. His eyes darkened. "But right now, I need to brush my teeth. Morning breath is one thing I can live without." I watched him move, slow assertive movements as he slid off the bed and moved towards the door. His muscles tightening as his whole body move; if I was some art collector, his back was something I would want to have a photograph of, a huge one hung right in front of my bed so it would be the first and last thing I saw at the start and end of my day.
I must have fallen asleep once again.
I was alone now, completely covered with my sheet to my chin, more like wrapped like a burrito since the only thing exposed to the world was my head. I had no idea what time of the day it was, just that it was the middle of the day and there was supposed to be someone else in the apartment. His suitcase was in the same cor
"You're not my boss." I pushed myself off him with enough force to escape him but also almost fell on my face. "You can't just be ordering me around. Making sudden appearances expecting off me to do your bidding, I'm not a child anymore, Liam." I'm furious. He can't order me around. He can virtually understand what's going on. He can't possibly put himself in my shoes. "Say that again." He was still sitting on the chair, looking at me with a straight face. No emotions. That was far scarier on him than any at all. "What?" I ask, my voice suddenly faltering. "Say my name again." Oh, that. Yes, this was the first time in years that I had actually said his name out loud. Ever. To his face. To anyone, even to myself. I flinched and started walking backward when he suddenly stood up. It didn't matter that the sun was out and shining through the windows, that I had no door, or that my tiny kitchen table took any space. He was bigger than anything else. His presence
Even a few hours after, and I can't believe I'm still hard. I can't stop thinking about her. After all those years, being able to find her again, have her again, touch her, and kiss her. Hell, if this was what an addict felt on a relapse, I was screwed. She was some sort of drug that I couldn't stop wanting to have. I'm currently in the middle of a meeting with a large staff, and I haven't been able to concentrate; the constant chatter is making me lose my temper, and the fact that I am really uncomfortable with my stubborn hard-on. Well, it is my brain's fault really, I keep getting replays of it all every single time I close my eyes; I can see her writing and move in front of me. Those throaty sounds and that crazy sexy smile. I'm doomed. I thought I was lost those years back, but now I'm really deep and fucked up. Leaving her had been one of the hardest things I have ever done. That damned phone call. Out of the times to call, all the idle times I
"Back so soon?" Soon? It had felt like an eternity away from her. She had changed, and it didn't surprise me since it was getting dark outside. Her messy bed hair was now tamed, finger-combed probably, but still, she looked beautiful with the pink glow on her cheeks and her fresh girl look. Not much makeup, yet she never really wore any before, or the last few days, I had been lucky to see her. I was curious to see what she would look like when she got dressed up for me. Now, she had a loose dress with yellow flowers and no sleeves. I could see her tanned arms, a bit toned. Not like when she lived under my roof when she was untouchable. When she was all legs and wild hair, she would sit in the sun and make her freckles multiply all over her soft tanned skin, when the air around her smelled like warm vanilla and cherry lip gloss. Damn, I'm getting hard again just thinking about her. I felt like a damn pervert, and yet I facepalm myself remembering she was legal back then, old
I never gave a damn about the night after; it was a given they would come back for more. Hell, I had to fight them off me, which was why I had several arrangements with different women. A single text or a phone call, and it was a done deal. They would make themselves available for me. I would end the transaction by leaving a thick envelope, appreciating silence and time. Still, there were rumors but nothing concrete, nothing that proved the reality of it all. It was good business. I got what I wanted; they got what they wanted, the end. But now, now I'm worked up. I'm can't quite grasp the situation I'm in. She's hot and cold. I don't know where the hell I'm standing. We had a lovely evening, a cold sandwich, a few glasses of wine, and now I'm being sent home. On a Saturday night, before midnight. Dismissed. I'm stunned really, I wasn't expecting her to be so blunt about it. "Are you serious?" I'm tryin
"What did you expect? You told him to go.""Yeah, but at least he could call. It's been a week."A whole week and no contact. Not a single attempt. I felt foolish, and there was cold space in my chest. I kept trying to rub it off to no avail."Maybe he's busy at work." She said."He was busy before but he texted me whenever he tad time." Or so he kept saying. He was always making time for me, I knew. Whenever I asked him, he would always fill me in, some crisis or on the way to a meeting. He even told me in advance when he would be unavailable."I think his ego got bruised a little. I guess after all this time the man really was out to get inside your tight pussy.""OMG! I can't believe you just said that!" I panicked, looking around. Her mouth was out of control. Even in an open space, she didn't mind what she said. No filter at all. She was so open about sex that you would think her parents weren't closed, that
I woke up to a drilling, coming from outside. This one of the few reasons I hated the city. There was no respect for sleep. Even on weekends, you'd hear honking, crashing, drilling, pounding, you name it. They better fix whatever they were attempting to fix, or I was going to send a very angry letter to the city. Why can't it start after nine in the morning, when the rush hour and everyone else is already at their jobs. I groaned and stood in front of the mirror. At least my skin looked decent, no pimples or, oh wait, there was one right on my left cheek, I could poke it now but if I did it wrong I could anger the thing and double its size. I'll just apply make-up over it and forget about the darn thing. Apparently, today too was going to be bad, I felt like a zombie, even after my first coffee. I dressed like I felt, gray colors and dark shades. Even the girls at work avoided me, no friendly talk, no gossip. All I wanted to do was be done and go back to bed, go back
"Well." I started, but nothing came. There was no use in denying it anymore. I had asked him to leave coarsely. I guess I was just scared of what could have happened between us and me. I was sure that I was ready to have sex with him. I mean, I was, I wanted it, but my heart and brain had a disagreement on that. Or maybe I was hurt by him stopping in the middle of it.The sexual tension when he was present was too strong, which was why he was standing on the other side of the door. I couldn't count the times I had fantasied about him, about us just doing the horizontal dance. Over the past week, I thought about all the possible things he could do to me and all the things I wanted to do with him. No matter how much I tried to force those thoughts out of my brain, they returned in very unexpected situations. Like in the middle of a meeting, I had to think about screaming babies, blackouts, and butt acne.I wo
I'm running. I am literary running. I'm evading trees, dogs, and people. It's like that scene in a movie when the main character is late for work, and she just goes on flash mode and runs all over the city and gets there on time. Which is not my case. I'm getting weird looks. I can't believe it. I'm so damn late. I had demanded to be wooed, and now, I'm as late as anyone can be. I'm late to my such wooing. He sent flowers and then proceeded to call to let me know the time and place where our first official date would occur. Our first date. I felt like I might faint. I sweating, my dress is stuck to my back and my hair; well, I'm not worried about that right now. There's nothing I can do but just get there. I'm stopping e