The Bad Boy Wants Her [ COMPLETED ✓] | 18+

[ 15 ] gawking

STORY WRITTEN IN 2016 under revisionSTORY WRITTEN IN 2016 under revision

Skylar

My eyes flutter open as the strong smell of something burning filled my nostrils. I huff, the funk claiming its territory around me. Once my eyes are fully open and my body is awake, I look around. I am still in Tristen's bed, undressed, and snuggled under the sheets.

But something was different.

He wasn't there.

The warmth that I felt before was gone.

I twist my body, pulling myself up in the process. Where was he? The smell seemed to be getting worst. Was his place on fire? As the thought shot my brain, I immediately jumped from the bed. "Tristen?" I call out, my voice coming out groggy and tired.

I clear my throat as I search the ground for my dress. It was tucked under a pile of crumbled paper. I shook it thoroughly before stepping my foot into it. I look around his room once again, seeing that it was even messier than before. The once dirty laundry that was tipped on the wall was now completely dropped, most of its content falling filthily to the ground. There was a stack of papers on his dresser, some which fell off to the side while the others rest obediently in the correct place.

The same few beer cans were laying around just chilling while there was a trail of wet foot prints decorating the pathway to the bedroom door. Really large foot prints.

My eyes analyze the sculptured shape of the print and I slowly begin to follow them. The strong scent stabs my noise and I hiss, my eyes burning once I enter the hallway. There's smoke everywhere.

Is he smoking in here? Did he invite his friends here to smoke with him?

No, that would be ridiculous.

"Ah! Fuck!" I hear the gruesome swear and my shoulders relax when I hear no other voices follow.

I stroll towards the voice, hearing more shuffling and now the sound of metal clacking together grabs my attention.

The sound and smoke is coming from the kitchen. I step closer, making sure my steps are as quiet as a mouse. I don't know why, but I just really want to make sure it is him and not some creeper stalker trying to hurt me.

Once I get to the kitchen, it's clear to me that it is indeed Tristen. But not just a regular Tristen. This one is a shirtless, dripping wet Tristen.

His back is facing me while he swats away the smoke and runs the faucet. His back is rigid and glossy. The water beads that are latched onto him are glistening and giving the tattoos on his back a shining glow. I stand there, watching as when he moves, the muscles in his arms flex and his body tenses.

He's moving fast and in a quick moment, the white towel that is wrapped around his waist drops and his clad butt cheeks are exposed.

I shriek, not intentionally but I can't help myself. And it seems as if that is probably the worst move I could ever make because he turns to me, naked, and his eyes grow in size.

I can't help myself. I can't. I don't want to look but I do. I look and in seconds my eyes become the same size as his.

But he stands there, staring at me while my eyes pierce his lower half. I've never seen it in this domain before. Given, I saw Charlie's and Chance's when they were little but it was different with him. He was a guy. A very grown guy. It's so big and—No! Stop, look away! Look away right now!