Serpentine Desires

The prey

"Your mouth," His thumb pressed against my lips as I sucked in a deep breath. "Around my cock."

When I was thirteen, my mother taught me a thing or two about society. At that time it was just blabbers of hers and nothing more than that.

Stay away from trouble.

Do not bring boys home.

No late night outs.

Never associate yourself with people who view you as nothing more than just dust on their shoes.

The first three I could understand.

The man in front of me viewed me as nothing more than just dust under his shoes. Maybe I looked easy to him. Desperate for money he thought I would sell my dignity for his pleasure. I had been called worse in my life- Cheater, teacher's pet, desperate, poor, fat, but never a prostitute.

Anger simmered like hot lava. "I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression, sir. But I have to refuse." Defiance shone bright in my eyes.

The maniac bit back a grin.

And I held myself back from punching him in the face and knocking him down though I knew I'd hurt myself in the process, but at least it would be worth it and make him ugly so that his nasty mouth would compete with his ugly face too.

To my surprise, he didn't look unfazed in the slightest. His eyes still shut and his fingers playing with my hair. "You're refusing money."

Red crept up my neck despite my attempts to remain unaffected. I pulled away, letting the strand of hair in his hair pull away and his fingers remained in the air.

I wiped my hands on my jeans, grounding myself with a shaky breath. Tears stung my eyes. "I may look desperate for this job," My voice trembling, "but I am not a prostitute. Excuse me."

Without looking back, I walked away, leaving him behind. His threats and demands had pushed me to the brink, but I refused to break. Each step felt heavy with the weight of his shamelessness, yet a spark of resilience burned within me.

His money would not define me.

When I jogged down the stairs, my lips started quivering. I needed to get away from this place. From him.

When I opened the door, the chilled breeze brushed against my face and I let a tear roll down. Again, I let my emotions get the best of me. I let a man like him, who was arrogant and dangerous thought of me as a plaything.

❁

"My brother would've loved you, you know. He's so into photography and all," I muttered, ignoring the tightness in my stomach as I forced a smile. I didn't know how I managed to text Ivan after running off the mansion. It took everything in me to not cry and wept in Ivan's arms when he asked why my eyes were red. I had no answer. The words echoed in my head. Disgusting and vile.

Who did he think he was? A lunatic I should've stayed away from. I decided right then: tomorrow, I'd end this. I'd resign and file a harassment case against him. Maybe then that maniac would learn that money couldn't buy a person.

And to make it worse, I couldn't stop thinking.

Ivan smiled back, running a hand through his hair. And I couldn't help but wonder why more people couldn't be like him-so sweet, so kind, so considerate. Unlike certain someone.

He took a sip of his drink. "I would love to meet him. What's his name?"

A smile crept onto my lips. "Mikhail." I missed him dearly. Though he was eight years younger than me, I loved him like my own child. Mikhail was the sweetest boy, a replica of Papa and the kindest person I knew.