Babysitter Cougar [COMPLETE]

Chapter 22 page 1 - Comforting Saint

The clinking glasses by the corner of the darkened room gives a startling sound that wakes me up. It feeds my mind with scary images of poltergeists that might be wandering in this room. I'm even too frightened to turn around and reach for my phone by the side table to check the time.

The clinking sound becomes intense and my jaw freezes. Bravely but gingerly, I turn around to the source of the sound while reciting a few prayers.

To my relief, I catch the sight of Saint by the sofa, topless with only his gym shorts on. His back is facing me while his eyes fixed to his iPhone with the bright light from the screen flashes at me, forming a lean sculpted silhouette figure of him.

I can tell he had been imbibing a series of boilermakers while I was sleeping, judging from the half empty bottles of Jack Daniel's Black Label and Carlsberg neatly arranged under the coffee table with a used shot glass inside a pint glass, surrounded by splashes of liquor on top of the table. Perhaps that could be the source of the clinking sound.

The redolent air in this room is stifling with a melding rich, sweet fragrant ethanol and smoke skunk which takes me back to a quiet dodgy alley that I used to visit when in Manchester.

"Saint, are you on pot?" I ask groggily.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" he flinches to my voice, stub out a joint in an empty Monster Energy can converted into ashtray.

I look up at the smoke detector on the ceiling above us, anxious that it might catch the weed smoke and trigger the alarm. But Saint is advanced enough to have the detector concealed with the hotel's complimentary shower cap.

"Are you okay?" I prop up and crawl to the other side of the bed towards him. As my eyes adjust to the dimness of this room, I draw myself near him and see his bleary red eyes swollen from crying. He nods to my question, but I know he's lying. I tell him, "You don't look okay."

"It's official, we're breaking up," he announces while he bites his bottom lip.

"Wait, what? She's dumping you?" I jump onto the floor, balancing myself from tumbling with my sleepy feet. I sit on the sofa next to him, disregarding the intoxicated substance on the table in front of me.

"I ended it because she asks for it," he says calmly. "She knew I would, she already had her stuff out of my apartment last night."

"But why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? I already told you everything. That's all there is to it," he gives me a sceptical look.

"Sorry, that was a silly question. I just woke up and my brain's still mushy," I give an excuse to cover up my silliness. "Is there another man?"

"Probably, who cares. I'm off the hook now," he says dejectedly before lights up his joint once again and resumes smoking.

"Saint, I know how devastated you feel right now but resorting to weed and alcohol isn't gonna solve anything," I rebuke calmly and remove the joint from his fingers. "She's a cunt anyway, you ought to have someone better than her."

He sniffs, gazing through mid air while I wipe off the dampness in his eyes and wrap my arms around his toned body because he needs it. Despite the combination of stench permeating the room, I'm able to catch a whiff of Tom Ford Oud Wood on his tacky skin.

He returns my embrace while I caress his back and massage his nape slowly to ease the stresses away. As much as my conscience telling me not to overdo it because he might respond to my cordial gesture differently due to being under the influence, my maternal instinct feels the need to give him that special support.

"Can you make me happy?" he pops the question above me.

I miss that phrase, it's like an old tagline of a commercial that rings a bell.

"Anything. Just tell me," I offer.

He chuckles and turns to face me with his other hand wrapping around me for a cuddle before leaning forward to kiss me on the forehead. I should set boundaries between us as one professional colleague to another. But I just couldn't contain myself from wanting him. My maternal instinct gives way to my immoral desire.

His mouth travels down from my temple to my lips and finally kisses me. Although I taste his weed breath mixed with alcohol, his kiss tastes wonderful. I push my mouth forward for a deeper kiss and rubbing my palm up and down against his nape causing him to feel aroused.

Then, he lifts me up and gently pushes me to the bed to resume the kisses. He straddles on me, then places his palm on my chest while I admire his body from beneath him. He leans down to kiss me again but my conscience once again urges me to stop.

"Saint, I'm sorry. We can't do this," I pull my face away from his. "This is wrong."

"What?" he pants. "But you said anything to make me happy."

"I'm just a rebound to you," I remind him.

"How can you be my rebound when I've been wanting you before?"

I try to object but he swiftly shoves his tongue into my throat to stop me from talking. After he sets my throat free, he licks my neck while his thumb slowly lifts my top to reveal my bare chest before tossing my garment onto the floor.

"Wait, are you hungry? Let's go eat," I create a diversion, trying to squirm.

"I'm hungry for you," he says breathlessly, admiring my topless self from above. "You're so damn beautiful."

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