Living With Him

Fifty-three: Confession

[Author's Note:]

Hi there wonderful people :)
I apologize for the late update, but here it is. I just got busy with the whole birthday thing I had. This is my present to you all as I've turned 26, here is the 53rd chapter of Living With Him.

Fifty-three: Confession

"Who knew that the great Adam Northman does appreciate junk food?" I jeered.

We walked out of McDonald's a few minutes ago, and I am totally enjoying how my fake fiancé is enjoying his fries. I thought Greek gods aren't allowed to partake of mortal food or else they'll lose their pristine abs, carved by Cupid's little assistants and sparkled with ardor by Aphrodite's perfect ass?

I'd like to think she farts out sparkles.

That would make her a unicorn.

"I'm human, Felicity, I live for fries too." He squeezed my waist as we walked towards the bench located near where we parked.

"I didn't know skyscrapers live for fries too."

"Yeah," he sighed, as if he's already used to my endearments for him. "We do."

"Open your mouth for me." He said after a minute of silence, which made me look at him.

"Hmm?" I raised my brows. "What for?"

"Just open it."

I took a sip of my float and swallowed while still looking at him.

What is he even thinking?

"Well?" He raised one manly brow at me.

"Well?" I mimicked him.

"Open."

"No."

"Open."

"No."

"Just open it."

"No. Stop asking."

He furrowed those brows of his and stared at me for a split second before cupping my chin with one of those big hands of his parted my lips a little before invading it with his.

I didn't even have time to protest, even when I ran out of breath.

"You..." he breathed out as he dug into my eyes with those blue orbs of his. "You open that pretty little mouth of yours when I tell you, you hear?"

"Wha—who do you think you are?" I protested weakly, between pants.

"Get in the car." He said. "I'm not asking." He added.

I immediately got in, not wanting to find out what he'd do if I don't follow suit.

The drive home was silent. I can sense something in the air, however, I can't point out what it is exactly that's going on in this quiet baguette's head.

Why don't you ask?

I don't want my mouth invaded...no matter how tempted I am.

The silent atmosphere was destroyed when we suddenly cam to a stop and I realized we were already home.

"Go straight to my room." He said and I stopped unbuckling in my seat.

"But I thought I'm not allowed—"

"I'm not asking" he cut me off. "Go to my room."