FEEL

9. Adronitis

Adronitis ~ frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

~ The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows ~

~°~

What if he wants to bend you over his desk and fuck you raw?

The statement followed me to sleep. Visited my dreams as if escaping from the darkest corners of my mind. So vividly, I felt his body against mine. Firm. Strong. A man at his finest, at his most prideful and giving state. On top of me, his weight overwhelming in the most pleasurable sense. In the dream, he hadn't laid his lips on me, but the rest of him, it was everywhere.

“Breathe, dear,” he whispered it against my ear, a hot chuckle accompanying the words. I could so clearly hear every rusty bend of his voice, like he was right here. So tangibly sense his hot breath against my skin. A soft moan broke from my lips as I pulled him closer. To lay my lips on his. The urge to kiss him, it was so all-consuming that my body shook violently.

I called his name, lifted my hips towards him. He remained so far away, so far from my skin, but the heat of him...

“Take your time.”

And then I woke, eyes wide and looking towards my bedroom door across from my bed where I lay stomachward. I shifted to sit up, only to find my shirt soaking wet, as well as the underwear beneath my plaid pyjama pants. I'd never had a dream like that before, of someone in real life.

It was wrong, how the innocent words he'd said in the car had been twisted to words so defiling and immoral. Yet equally sweet, I would admit only to myself. What was I becoming, I wondered. And is it right, the things that ran across my head? Profligous thoughts about a man who had only pure intentions towards me?

~°~

I couldn't look at him. I had tried this morning when I spotted him in the hallways. He had this way about him that he carried wherever he went, charming and contagious. Relaxed in a manner that invited company, composed in one that demanded respect. Even his walks, I'd found myself observing, are guided by confidence. The kind that needn't words, but rather defined by actions.

I had not much knowledge about what made a man, but what made Mr Pierce was something that would have any woman drawn in without much of her consent. I fell victim to the softness of his blue eyes, yet the hardness of his stance. The gentleness of his manners, yet the firmness of his tone. How could one manage to find humbleness in pride, tenderness in aggression and appeal in demand?

Our eyes met for a moment, his smiling brightly, long before the grin stretched upon his lips and he nodded to acknowledge me. The feeling that rose inside of me, I had no control of. It was uninvited, possessive, overwhelming. It gripped me tightly in its grasp until I could barely breathe, suffocated me, then released a swarm of hot lightening across my entire body.

That smile, I wanted to smash my lips against and kiss fervently. It was wrong, so wrong, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking it. And when his smile faded because I didn't return it, because my gaze was hot instead of warm, I flushed in slight embarrassment.

Leaving my locker open, I rushed into the girls' bathroom without sparing him a glance. Luckily, it was right across where my locker is. He'd seen me, I was certain. Seen the way my eyes fixed to his full lips with a longing ache. Seen the dream I had of him at night. Seen my desire to go through with every single image that had been unconsciously conjured up last night.

I stayed in the stall for a good few minutes, all but composing myself. When I left, there was three girls grouped up near the sinks. Their stares simultaneously drifted to me the moment I walked out. I didn't miss the snort that came out of one of them. Of course, I had to ignore it. It was a survival technique here, just pretend you didn't hear it and they won't feed on your reaction.