The Liability

Chapter 8

Louisa's POV:
It all happened so fast, one second I'm stood at the wall, the next I'm locking lips

The worst part is... I let it happen.
It happened like this—
I heard him tell me something no one else dared to, and I saw this gesture and action as a form of human emotion, and I craved touch and comfort so much so that when he pushed himself to me against the wall, crashing his lips to mine, i didn't stop it.

I don't know what force was pulling me to him, but it was magnetic.

As though two separate individuals held massive magnets in fairly close proximity, and had never dared to let them attract, all of sudden decide the power, too weakening to continue holding it—release it, sending the magnet flying towards the other.

That is what it felt like.

At first I jumped in confusion at the intimate contact.

But within seconds he was taking control.
Frankly, it was hot. I was feeling... well frankly, turned on.

My hands were latched in his dark hair, as he made me feel heated within the pit of the stomach.

He backed me into the wall other side of the wall so he could further take control, he had pressed his pelvis against mine and the contact was enough to make me spill. Saying I was aroused would be an understatement.

my back still against the wall, he takes his hands from my hips and unlatches my hands from his hair, pinning them above my head, while I'm still pressed myself against him with my legs around his waist. he managed to keep me up without effort. His mouth made me shudder, his tongue was electric to me, his hand moved down and I, in turn, ground my hips against him, releasing a grunt off his lips. I couldn't help the satisfaction of making him feel this way.

That my friends is sexual frustration.

I was in ecstasy.

I'd never wished for clothing to be off some much.

I could feel his manhood extend out stimulating the nub between my legs

at this feeling, I wanted him inside me. I wasn't sure what was happening. I had no sexual experience yet here I AM acting like an experienced slut.

(HEADS UP, SEXUAL TERMS AND MATURE THINGS WILL BE SAID! IF YOU AREN'T COMFORTABLE WITH SCENES RELATED TO SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT. SKIP AHEAD.)

he hoisted me up higher and PRESSED closer so my tiny self was placed upon his hardened manhood; mind

you, we are both fully clothed, but this alone was enough to send me over the edge.

I threw my head back against the wall in complete pleasure with my back arched away from the wall, and more towards him. he took his lips from mine and planted kisses down my face to the crook of my neck until he hit the spot that made me shudder, that I never knew I had. his lips could ignite fiery feelings at contact with my skin, it was unnatural.

and he must've known his effect on me because he smirked against my neck.

after minutes

he pulled away, with such regret all of a sudden. as though he just realized what he had allowed. and what he had just done. with this, my conscience finally took to light.

as he backed away from me and turned around, he sighed and tugged at his hair in frustration.
My eyes glued to my feet
My cheeks no doubt pink

I felt humiliation with his reaction. I hadn't expected myself to do it, I FEEL guilty and stupid for liking it. but not such a strong regret as he seemed to hold. he turned around facing me with a light sense of rage as brushed past me, his shoulder hitting mine.

All the confidence and initiative I played minx with had left me instantaneously.

I could hardly manage to form words. Let alone speak in sentences.

"Fuck." he curses out.

I run and lock myself in the bathroom. The embarrassment I felt was overbearing.

I felt humiliated, I was supposed to hate this man, not effin' kiss him.

most of all, I enjoyed it more than anything else in my life... this scared me.

but his rejection hurt the most

I sigh putting my hand to my face in defeat and frustration. I could not possibly bear to look at him or anyone in this estate ever again!

I can't help the tears running down my face. I sit in silence thinking... as I sob uncontrollably.

Thinking about things that deep inside I know the answer to, but cannot accept.

Would things be different if my mother was still alive?
Is René ok? Would she be looking for me?

As I remain still crying I simultaneously keep myself from leaving the bathroom. I grow exhausted from the crying, and my eyelids begin to grow heavy, my breath slows.

And alas, I accept the warm embrace that sleep is impairing me with.

This sleepiness leaves me laying on the cooled tiles of the bathroom floor deep in sleep and visibly a wreck: my hair tangled, my face red, mascara dripping, as I did, in fact, have mascara and makeup on for my birthday dinner with René, but this never happened.

if my mom was watching me from heaven, she would see a broken girl curled in a tight ball sideways on a bathroom floor, as low as could be gone.