He is your superior

Part 6

The next morning was awful, no matter how long you'd sleep; you'd still wake up exhausted, drained.

The situation with Ghost worsened it all.

You had made a decision, avoiding him until he would give you explanations.

How naive...

It was easy on the first day, he was a busy man. But he somehow always found a way to show up, always found a way to make it harder for you.

The second day was even better. It gave back a hint of confidence to you, being able to think of something else than him. It didn't last long.

Because you weren't the one in control.

He was the one deciding if you could avoid him or not. He let you feel like you had control over it for a second, then shattering it the next.

You hated the way you ended up walking through the base late at night on the third day. Going back to him like a lost lamb, like a touch starved puppy.

Purposely walking past his office, hoping that he would open the door at that exact moment. And as if Ghost had become a mind reader; the door opened.

You stopped in your tracks, obviously surprised. The sound of his heavy boots echoed through the hallway, you could recognize his footsteps every time.

You looked up at him like a deer in the headlights. You were so desperate, exactly how he wanted you to be.

But it wasn't enough for him, Ghost was a greedy man. He was always wanting more, always yearning for more.

"Aren't you tired already, love?" Damn his pet names, making you crawl back to him every time.

You nodded your head. Tired was an understatement compared to how you felt. "Yes," you replied quietly, almost muttering to yourself.

"Come with me, I'll make you something to drink." Even if you wanted to, you couldn't refuse it. You spent the last three days longing for his presence, his touch.

His office looked as tidy as usual, like a reflection of his own mind. You sat down on a chair, in silence.

You didn't want him to know how needy you were.

"Here," he spoke as he turned back to you, taking a few steps forward. "Some tea," he handed you the mug, his fingers brushing against your own.

You shouldn't feel this way, but it seemed you had no control over it. Maybe you actually weren't angry at him, but at yourself.

"Thank you," you said with a light smile as you took a sip; the same tea you would drink every morning, how did he..

You were too tired to think, too weak to even realize. And he knew it.

He stood up beside you, his big hand resting on your cheek. You leaned into his touch.

"My princess," he whispered, tilting your head up to make you look at him. You melted under his touch, silently begging for more.

Your lips looked so tempting, so kissable. He needed your taste on his lips, his tongue, lingering over for as long as possible.

"Don't make a noise." He rolled up his balaclava to his nose, approaching your face and pressing his lips against yours.

His arms rested on both sides of your chair; stuck in his embrace, stuck in his hell disguised as paradise.

It wasn't his fault if he was too protective of you.

Wasn't his fault if he was the only one able to make you happy.

"You taste so sweet," he whispered as his tongue met yours, forcing its way inside your mouth.

A moan escaped your lips as his hand rubbed against your inner thigh, sending tingles of arousal down your spine.

Sadness and anger consumed your soul as he pulled away, depriving you from his addictive touch.

"It's getting late princess, and you don't want to be tired tomorrow, yeah?" Annoyingly, he would give you a hint of his affection and then take it back. Nothing new.

You were too tired to protest, way too exhausted to argue, he knew it.

You didn't talk. You didn't even look at him as you got up and walked out of his office, immediately heading to your room.

His games were draining you, making you feel more and more lost by each passing day.

There is a thin line between love and hate.