Crashing Down Into Flames

Chapter 8

Chapter Song: Kill Anyone (Feat. Ari Abdul)- Two Feet, Ari Abdul

Monday- Afternoon

-Cole-
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She stands up just as she's told.

Good girl.

She's so good at obeying my orders. It makes me wonder if she flusters and squinches her nose while trying not to roll her eyes from hate for me when she's following other orders.

It makes my blood boil through my veins, knowing others have tried to command her too. She's mine to command. And only mine.

She straightens out a black leather jacket, which I presume is August's (If not I'd hate to see the outcome of the person who gave her their jacket) and grasps her notepad with both hands as if she's nervous.

She's not nervous. My Tempress of a kitten is never nervous unless she's underneath me.

It's like time stills as I'm finally able to take in the sight of her whole without her running away or hiding behind the desk.

Although, I do love a game of hide and seek when she's my only prey to chase and find.

Her long braid lays on her shoulder and stops at her chest. It's practically begging for me to wrap it around my hand and knit my fingers through the loose roots that connect with her skull. The end of the braid is a tight curl that makes me want to grab it and trail it along her jawline until it uncurls and to see if it'll catch her breath. I bet her hair is still soft to the touch and smells like peaches or peppermint.

The leather jacket she's wearing is oversized and hangs away from her arms. Although it can give me an idea of what it looks like when she's wearing my leather jacket, I'd rather her wear the real thing.

Just thinking about her wearing my jacket and being ruined by my scent makes me ravenous.

Charlotte's jacket, which she was wearing earlier, is covered by August's jacket and it makes me want to take that leather jacket off and unbutton every button of Charlotte's jacket and her shirt to see if what I have seen before matches what's grown.

Her long legs stand with confidence in her black business pants with knees that are asking to be dropped between my legs and thighs that are pleading to buck.

She stands in black pumps that show an underlying of red on the bottom side through the curve of the heel. Even though the heels make her 5'6 height two inches taller, she still isn't tall enough to reach my height.

She hates heels which I don't understand why she would trade shoes with Charlotte. I could picture her taking off her heels and laying her feet on me just to bug me like she used to with her feet asking to be rubbed.

The delicious grunts of pleasure that would come from her when I rubbed her feet sent me into a spiral.

Her overall look is casual business, but the way she wears it, she could snatch the attention of anyone who crosses her. That is until someone before me ruined her outfit.

She clears her throat, drawing my attention to her face -even though I never let it show that my eyes were drawing all over her. I'd never hear the end of it from her.- A ray of light shines from the blinds, elevating the details and contours of her face and lighting my favorite part. Her piercing emerald eyes that I can see reflecting from her glasses from a side view, "What would you like me to underline? The full meeting, or the shortened version?"