Page 54 of Scarred King
“I don’t bring girls to my house,” he replies and takes a sip from his drink. He sits down on the sofa and picks up his file.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“You’re something else,” he answers without looking at me and my heart expands. “Besides, you didn’t leave me any choice,” he adds, and my heart shrinks back again.
23
I wake up in the big bed. I'm all alone, but the dent on the pillow next to me tells me, he slept here beside me. I stand up and open the black curtain. In the yard below me there is a large swimming pool surrounded by trees. Such a peaceful sight. So different from his world, which became my world last night. Or maybe even before that?
I go to the bathroom, and when I finish and return to the bedroom, I see my suitcase. I open it. My clothes are packed neatly, and my laptop and some textbooks are sitting on top of them. I get dressed and go downstairs.
Liam is dressed and shaved, and he looks so fresh. I think this is the first time my mind calls him by his name and not by one of the nicknames I gave him. He is sitting in the dining room working on a computer, drinking coffee.
“Good morning,” I smile and stretch my braid out on my back.
“Morning…” he shrugs and looks back at the screen.
“I saw you brought some of my things,” I say and walk over to the coffee machine. I have no idea how to work this thing.
“Johanna packed and Tommy brought them,” he says impatiently. I open the overhead cupboard and look at the shelf full of glasses in dismay. They are set out in no particular order, small ones next to tall ones. I take them all out and place them on the counter and rearrange them with the symmetry my brain requires. When I finish, I sigh in relief and start pressing buttons on the machine. It makes some strange sounds, and I can hear him grumbling behind me. He sighs and gets up, walks over to the coffee machine and efficiently makes me a cup of coffee.
“Thank you,” I say. He doesn’t respond as he goes back to his seat. I realize that my presence bothers him and try to figure out what I should do. “So… I'm going to go now,” I mutter and look around the room for my bag.
“You can’t leave yet,” he says without looking at me. “You’ll stay here until we go to work tonight, hopefully we can solve this thing quickly.”
“You’re not being very nice,” I say irritably. I realize that I’m stuck here with him, and worse than that, that he feels that he’s stuck here with me. “I’m not used to having strangers walking around my house,” he responds in the same dry tone, I fall silent and try to deal with the insult.
“Don’t worry, you won’t feel the presence of this stranger anymore.” I grind my teeth and go upstairs, take out my laptop and textbooks and go back downstairs quietly. I sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island and turn on my laptop. That idiot, one minute he makes me feel like I’m on top of the world, and the next, he reminds me just what a disgusting creature he is. I check my email and see that I’ve received a list of tasks from Professor Sawyer. The email puts a smile on my face and my mood immediately improves. I read through the complicated instructions and realize that he has decided to challenge me, and that he wants to put me through some kind of test.
“You’ve made my day,” I whisper to the laptop, and open a new file. I finish the first task quickly by searching the internet for articles that I’ve read before. I have to put a bit more effort into the second task, and the third one has me trying really hard. I try to reach for my coffee cup and discover that I have a new, hot coffee waiting for me. I can’t take my eyes away from the computer as I continue scanning through article after article, research after research.
“Do you want me to order something to eat?” I hear a masculine voice close to me, and all I can do is raise a finger to quiet him. My file is getting bigger and my mind is dancing a tango with the new conclusions. The natural light fades and is replaced by artificial light that fills the room, and I continue.
“Maybe you should eat something?” the voice at my side sounds concerned, and I raise a finger to quieten him once again. I’m on the last paragraph, the last sentence of my summary and my smile widens. A large hand blocks my screen and I move my head from side to side in a desperate attempt to see past it. The hand threatens to turn off the screen and I throw myself forward and clutch the laptop hysterically.
“No!” I shout and the hand moves away, but now there are two hands holding my waist, picking me up and sitting me on a muscular lap.
“I have to finish this,” I continue typing quickly. The annoying hand finds its way under my tank-top and starts massaging my breast. “Oh, not now,” I squirm and continue typing. Now there’s another hand on my other breast, pinching my nipple lightly. I feel my body starting to get aroused and I exhale in frustration, but my fingers continue typing. He takes one hand out and pushes the laptop to the middle of the island. “Stop…” I beg, and lean forward to continue typing. My pants button opens and my pants and panties are down. “Just one more minute,” I beg again and then his finger slips inside me. “You’re sick!” I fume and moan as he moves it around inside me, and when he slips another finger in, I find it hard to concentrate on the letters that appear on the screen. Four more words. Don’t give in, I order myself as I type letter after letter on the keyboard as I moan out loud and he presses himself against me from behind and takes down his pants. I type the last letter and then a period. I just manage to press on save and I throw myself forward on the table. “I’m done,” I pant happily, and he chuckles behind me.
“Not yet.” He pulls his fingers out and his erection rubs against me. “Have you got another condom?”
“No!” I answer in panic.
“Fuck!” he exclaims, pulls back and raises my panties and pants.
“Totally,” I breathe in disappointment, stand up and fasten my button. When I turn to him, he is arranging himself inside his jeans and twists his face. “Do you have blue balls?” I ask teasingly.
“Yes,” he says and drops his pants again. “Come take care of it,” he jerks his head downwards and I take a few steps away from him, stand behind the counter and smirk.
"This strange girl needs to get to work. Take care of it yourself."
“Don’t be a bitch,” he hisses irritably. “Come on, get over here. I’m about to explode.”
“No.” I march towards the door. “I have a strict boss. I can’t be late.”
“I get it,” he pulls up his pants, makes a face and breathes deeply. The look on his face turns amused. “You’ll pay for this.” He picks up his file and walks towards me.
“I suggest we leave all payments out of our twisted relationship,” I laugh, and he pulls me close, grabs my neck and kisses me savagely.