Page 73 of Misted
“P-please… Hawk… oh...” Her fingers move harder and faster against her pussy. I’m too frozen to react. I can only watch as her face reddens and she sucks her free forefinger in her mouth as if it’s my fucking dick.
I’m about to come right there and then when her eyes snap open.
Lust covers the darkened hazel colour and she appears disoriented for a moment. Her beautiful hair splays around her, damp at the temples. Her maddening pink nipples are hard as stone while her hand still nestles between her thighs.
I sneak out of the room before her gaze falls on me.
As soon as I’m outside, I lean against the wall, my breathing harsh, and my hands balled into fists by my sides.
I need a fucking award for walking out on that without fucking her raw.
Knowing she wants me to the point of dreaming about me changes something in the great scheme of things.
I’ll take full advantage of that.
* * *
The following morning,I sit at the table in the reception area. Wires scatter in front of me as I cut them into similar lengths to continue building the siege around the house’s fence.
A half-finished cigarette dangles from my lips and I let the nicotine clear my head. The soft light coming from outside bathes the house in more sickening cosiness than needed.
It’s the first time I miss England’s gloomy days?
I’m halfway through cutting wires when Mist trudges down the stairs in silent careful steps. I almost cut my fucking finger.
She’s wearing my black T-shirt. That’s fucking it. The baggy piece of clothing falls to the middle of her thigh, and fuck me, she looks like something straight out of a fantasy.
The only wrong thing about her appearance is that she gathered her hair into a messy bun. It’s as if she’s hiding her true self behind the well-groomed, elegant woman.
Everyone knows her as the uptight madam of Le Salon, but no one has seen her as I fucking did. No one witnessed her free, talkative nature. No one knows she crosses her arms as a defence mechanism instead of just a look. It’s her way to push everyone out of her vicinity.
Now, she’s the most natural I’ve seen her in years. No makeup. No haughtiness. A smidge similar to the hellion she was before.
She stops at the base of the stairs and her hazel eyes narrow on the wires and cutters in my hand. “Are you going to use that on me?”
She thinks I would hurt her that way? But again, why wouldn’t she? The boy who mopped at her feet and memorised every dream she voiced is long gone.
It’s good that she believes I won’t hesitate to hurt her. That’ll keep her in the fucking line.
“Will I have to?” I continue cutting away but don’t take my eyes off her.
I can’t.
She huffs a breath and clamps her hands together to prevent their shaking. It won’t stop. She’ll have to suffer through that for weeks.
Her cheeks are hollow, probably because she vomited everything she ate. A small chocolate stain teases the side of her mouth. I assume she ate the breakfast I left by the side of her bed.
“I won’t escape.” She sighs.
I narrow my eyes. She’s planning something, but if she’s trying to get my guard down, then good fucking luck with that.
She approaches with hesitant steps and stops at the table. The same table I fucked her on a week ago. My dick hardens remembering how she unravelled around me. I never knew she craved that type of darkness.
“That poison will kill you.” She scrunches her nose at my almost finished cigarette.
“It’ll be a luxury if I live to be killed by lung cancer,” I continue cutting, trying to ignore how she smells fresh and of the lilac shampoo I bought on my way here.
Something in her stance shifts, but she camouflages the change as fast as it came.