'𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖.'
|18+| ❝Look at you so open and sexy bent over in nothing but your heels.❞ He compliments, caressing my ass.
❝...oh god...❞ I plead with my eyes...
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I shut my eyes immediately after I opened it.
Too bright.
I turn over on the bed, snuggling deep into the sheets until memories of last night flood into my head.
"Do you see how deep I am?"
Shit.
My eyes fly open and I sit up immediately; my action making the covers slip from my chest, my eyes darting round the room.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I look down slowly, praying and pleading, hoping the memories of last night is just a silly dream. A really wet dream.
"Fuck fuck-"
I pull the covers over my chest and head, screaming into a pillow.
How will I face him?
Are we a thing?
I still hate him but...
"Annabelle?" a deep gruff voice calls out.
My ears perk up and I pull the covers away from my head, peaking at where the voice came from.
And there he was, in all of his six foot three height and bruised and marked skin.
He had marks everywhere; neck, arms and chest. Scratches, my scratches, bites, hickeys; places I sucked too hard or maybe even held too hard.
Everything was done by me. I can't absolute believe it.
"Good morning Mr Blackwell," I greet, still peeking from under the covers.
His eyebrows scrunch together for a second before relaxing.
"I ordered coffee for you," he nods to the bedside table and my eyes follows his gaze. Laying on the table was a steaming hot coffee and some pills. "You complained of how you'd be sore by morning before falling asleep last night immediately after I cleaned you up so I got you some pills to numb away the pain."
"Oh." Oh.
"We have a meeting in 30 minutes so I suggest we both hurry up."
"Okay-"
I couldn't complete my sentence before he opens and slammed the door of the bathroom shut.
