The Bad Boy's First Lady

TBBFL 10: Mr. Chinito

VOTE PWEASE :3

CIELO MONTEZ

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I searched for room sixty-nine. I laughed to myself again as I remembered Mike's room number. Out of all the rooms, he ended up with sixty-nine? Fate had its ways.

I counted the numbers as I passed by the rooms, smiling widely when I reached my destined number. Finally, food! I hadn't gotten around to eating earlier since I'd had to escape. And, as I said before, it was all the fault of the baboon, A.K.A Chancer.

I took the key from under the doormat and quietly opened the door.

Instead of finding a clean room, as Mike had assured me I would most likely see, the room was full of used tissue papers and wet towels. So this was what Mike meant by 'clean' room. His definition of clean was totally different from mine.

As I was inspecting every corner of the disgusting room, a loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the condo. My detective instincts took over, and before I knew it, I was holding a vase in my hand as I quietly tip-toed in the direction of the loud sound.

The fact that I was on my period would be of no help to this poor thief who had decided to rob Mike's unit. Bad timing, bítch. Whoever the burglar was, I would make him feel pain like he had never felt before. A lame spanking would do him no justice; I would most likely cut his limbs off first, then throw him in Hell where my lovely devils would savor him.

I went to the east side of the living room and saw, through the open door, that there were cooking utensils scattered all over the floor. The thief was inside the kitchen. Oh no. He better not be trying to steal my food or I swear I'll crack not only his skull, but also his tiny balls.

I slowly made my way inside the kitchen, immediately seeing the suspect. He was a guy and his back was facing me. He was shirtless, but was wearing a freaking pink apron. A pink apron, ladies and gentlemen.

He was focused intently on cooking something. He didn't even seem to mind the broken plates on the floor with how focused he was on cooking whatever he was cooking.

I gripped the vase in my hand tightly and counted to three for my attack. I can do this. "Go, Cielo!" I cheered myself on silently.

1... 2... 3...

But then just as I was about to smash the vase on his head... he turned around.

My jaw opened widely at the sex God in front of me. His brunette hair, which was styled messily, like he had just gotten out of bed, complimented his slightly pale skin, strong jaw, and full lips which were almost as red as Chancer's.

Don't forget about the eyes! God, the eyes! I can't even! He's a Chinito!

A Chinito was another weakness of mine aside from blondes. I thought I was going to faint as I stared at him intently like a maniac. I hoped that if I fell he would catch me so that I could feel his abdominal muscles (which I was pretty sure were as hard as a rock).

Fúck it, I sounded like Bianca. But, never mind. I would have to control my raging hormones.

I looked at his Chinito eyes and saw him checking me out too. As his eyes reached from my chest to my own eyes, he asked me the question that I was supposed to have asked him the moment he turned around. I had gotten distracted, big time, by his Godly body.

"Who are you?" He asked, as his confused look turned into a hard one.

Waking up from my mini-daydream, I glared harder at the stranger. No one had ever defeated me at my staring sessions, and no one ever would.