Say You Hate Me

run along, pretty boy

Kissing him felt euphoric.  As if we were diving into the deep end of the ocean, trying desperately  to ignore the aching in our lungs as we drown. 

His lips were everywhere, staining my skin with his marks as his fingers dug into the flesh of my ass. Our lips collided urgently, a surge of anger and electricity combined, a dangerous mix. A needy whine climbed my throat, fuelled by the frustration and desire. Somehow he was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. The agonising throb between my thighs was unbearable, craving every inch of him that I had not already had. Our breaths mingled, hot and heavy, the only sound filling the room along with his occasional groan or my gasp. Each kiss was us unleashing our pent-up anger, lips moving with a fervour - biting and nipping. The remaining taste of fury lingered on my tongue, mingling with his intoxicating taste of mint and cigarettes .

My head tilted back with a breathy moan as he slams me against the bathroom wall, his lips dancing across my jaw simultaneously. One hand remained on my ass holding me up, whilst the other dropped to my thigh, tracing higher and higher beneath my dress. The raw lust and need etched into my brain as I tug at his soft hair. I relish at the fact he's just as needy as I am, his bulge is so hard, it looks painful. 

Crash.

My 18+ thoughts halted at the sudden noise. What the fuck was that?

Crash.

I move the hand that was fisting Grayson's black dress shirt to shove him away, a deep raspy growl leaving his plump lips when he notices what I'm doing.

"shit," he mumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair once he hears the noise.

"What's going on out there?" I breath out, dusting my dress off. My brain was frazzled, filled with frantic thoughts of Grayson mixed with the remnants of anger and also curiosity as to what was occurring outside the room. 

A part of me was mortified at what he said, the words slicing through me like butter and leaving open wounds pouring with pain. Aspects of it were true, but completely out of context. The mention of my father cut deeper than the rest though.  It was a low blow, but I deserved it after what I said. 

But none of that or whatever this was, means I have forgiven him in the slightest for getting me engaged. My marriage was something I had dreamt of as a kid, to someone I adored, with puffy white dresses and curls cascading down my back.  Not to a mafia boss who was about as annoyingly sexy  as he was straight up annoying. Not to mention, he skipped the whole proposal aspect, which was personally, a must. The love of your life bending down on one knee, the ring gleaming in the sun, the freshly done nails. 

This was not how I had planned my future marriage.

"fucking Russians," he hissed quietly, his eyes cloudy as he thinks. He might as well have had fog steaming out of his ears as the cogs in his brain turned.

He blinks twice, gives me a look that I can't quite figure out, before striding towards the door. Anger shoves me forwards as I stand in his way. His honey eyes lower to me, scouring my face. I open my mouth to say something but hold back.

Instead I utter lamely, "careful Lorenzo, you've got some lipstick on," His eyes widen briefly as he brings up a large hand to swipe his lips aggressively. A smirk tugs at my lips at his momentary horror. 

I consider asking him what's going on, but doubts of his dry response thread into my brain.

So I pick the second best option, by not-so-subtly following him. He shoves the door open thoughtlessly and walks out.

I'm actually quite offended he just forgot about me and left but there wasn't time to dawdle. 

I push the door open as the commotion infront of me unfolds.

Guns, knives, whatever the fuck that was and fists fill my vision. The tension in the air was palpable and almost suffocating, men and women raising lethal weapons and their faces contorted with ruthless determination. The clashing of fists and distinct crack of bones fill my ear drums, the occasional echoing gunshot reverberates through the air. Suspense shot through me as my skin pebbled with goosebumps. 

This was way better than the Marvel Endgame fight scene.

Undeniable thrill exploded inside of me as I continued trailing Grayson, who had already whipped out a gun and was shooting peoples brains out left and right. 

"hey pretty lady," a cold voice sneered in my ear, I attempted to turn to see who's voice but my feet were planted to the floor in shock. 

Impending doom: what a great feeling. 

This was when I died. I've said my prayers, i guess it's time to say goodnight.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the man moves in front of me, the cold metal now pressed against my temple sends a chill through me.

"how 'bout we go somewhere private, pretty lady?" his accent was thick and foreign and his breath stunk of beer. 

I contemplate my options but seeing as he's holding a gun to my head, there really wasn't many. 

My hearts racing, the thumping in my chest like a drum and my breathing was shallow and rapid, air becoming scarce as I sucked in lungfuls like a fucking vacuum. My thoughts became fragmented, and I didn't exactly have the time to piece them all together.

Until, an idea dawned on me. It was hardly the best plan, but it was all my brain could formulate under such circumstances.

A lazy smirk tugged at my lips, "wouldn't it be so much sexier to do it here? God, the thrill of being in a public really sets me off," my voice is seductive and has my inner self gagging in a fit of nausea. 

"I like that idea, pretty lady," He gave me a lopsided grin, exposing my face to more of that god-awful beer stench, I fight back the urge to throw up.

In a millisecond, his grip on the gun loosens, now held lazily in his hand as he gives me a hungry gaze, his eyes lingering for way too long on my breasts. I pounce in the moment, lurching forwards for the gun and grabbing it.

Shock and anger paint his face a putrid red as he processes what just happened. I had the gun now.

"I've had a really fucking bad day, and you've made it worse, asshole," I hiss, my voice venomous and dark, gripping the gun painfully hard as I pointed at him. 

"Fucking bitch!" He yells and my jaw tics.

I've always wanted to shoot someone, this is like a dream come true. The prospect of killing him looms over me, but the overwhelming guilt throws me off. 

"who's the bitch now?" I tease, aiming the gun lower and lower until...

the gun is now directed at his groin area, beads of sweat swim down his forehead and his eyes were wide with fear.

I focused, remembering everything Grayson taught me that day on the beach and as anticipation claws at my brain, I inhale a huge sigh of air and pull the trigger. 

The gunshot rings through me, excitement ricocheting off my skull as he lets out a wail of pain and blood seeps through his dress pants.

They were ugly anyways.

"That's my girl," Grayson's smoky voice dripped with pride as he approached me, the praise sending waves of heat to my thighs and a jolt of arousal snakes through me.

"not your girl," I snap, but I can't hide the pleased smile plastered on my face as I watch the man double over in pain.

"Run along now, pretty boy," I smirk and the man hisses in response.

————————————————————-————————-

AUTHORS NOTE!!!!!!!!!!

ELSIE BEING A BADASSSS AAAAA

1K VIEWS IS CRAZY BTW

PLS VOTE AND COMMEBT

LYL

XOXOXOXOX