𝗔 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘀𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿.
She was known as 'Scar' from the permanent scar she would leave your heart after daring to get to know her.
However, this only intrigued him.
He had a sweet tooth a...
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CARLOS NILSSON
When the sunlight hit my bed, I'd thought I would be burnt to a crisp from how sensitive my bare back was to the sheer heat blazing through the window. I tried to move away from it, my dazed mind had forced my body to roll over so far so that I fell out of the bed. I groaned in pain but did not mind so much as my king bed shielded me from the sun when lying on the floor. Sometimes it wasn't the best thing to have a wall covered in windows, although having a view of California in a penthouse can have its advantages.
Lifting my head reluctantly, I cast my gaze over my bedroom, seeing the filth of clothes, leftover plates and a bright pink thong hanging itself off of my bedside table, cluttered with random junk, excluding the wooden framed picture of me and my dad when I was little that remained faced down. It was strange how I had always moved around with it but could never bring myself to look at it.
I scoff to myself, disregarding such depressive thoughts from my mind, searching through the fog in my mind, caused by my hangover, to try and find the motivation to do anything today.
My body screamed as I forced myself off the floor, I wondered what I had done last night to make me so hungover and be awake at this time ungodly time of the morning. I stumble into the bathroom, instantly throwing myself over the bench and turning on the tap, splashing water in my face.
The chill brings my mind out of its haze and helps me think straight. I look at myself in the mirror, scrunching my nose to see how horrifying I looked, with slight stubble growing on my chin and my hair looking as if a bird had nested in it.
Putting my shaving gel on and getting rid of my stubble, I think about last night, though there wasn't much to think of, except for the angel of a bartender that had imprinted herself in my mind and the girl that I had danced with. The only thing I could dream of was the sway of both their hips, one walking around and serving drinks, the other grinding herself against me and hands wandering all over me. I can already feel my cock strained in my boxers when thinking back to it.
"Fuck..." I mutter, cupping it to take the pressure off of it.
Clothes were suddenly too hot. I stripped off my boxers and got into the shower, turning it to cold and embracing the chill on my skin, releasing some of the tension held in my skin. My mind becomes blank and I run my hands through my now-damp hair, expelling a large sigh from my chest.
However, my peace is short-lived as I hear my phone ringing from my bedside table. I take my time walking to get it but halt as I see it's my manager, Gryphon.
I take a moment before answering reluctantly.
I was instantly greeted with shouting. "Carlos, do you know how bloody worried I was?" His British accent only shines through when he's angry so this has to be serious. I try to listen through his ranting, my head still aching from the hangover, and the yelling not helping.
