•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
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How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
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She did not know what that foreign feeling was. But she was scared when she felt it.
On the sidelines, she recalled their previous two encounters that did not end up on a good note. Though his presence was curiously irking her, somewhere inside, he scared her too. A tiny bit, maybe.
Or maybe a lot.
Her body felt heated up in flames under his intense gaze.
Her own travelled up and down his form.
The man sat on the couch with his one arm resting on one armrest and other resting on his knee, his burning eyes undressing her naked.
Her misconception that such a successful man must be a middle - aged old guy with whitened hair and blunt physique was proven shamefully wrong.
He sat at a height of an astounding 6′0, compared to her measly 5′3, like a masterpiece. This man was impossible to go unnoticed anywhere he walked to.
His alluring midnight black irises could rival the biggest blackholes of the universe. His luxuriant black hair resembled the darkest of forests for your fingers to get lost in and never come back. Coiffed in a side swept manner, some strands still falling over and tousled over his flat, broad beautiful forehead.
His meticulously sculpted face was shining in a brilliant glow, which underlined his unique eyelids, one mono-one double. His blade-sharp, broad, strong jawline that added a hint of masculinity to his face.
Her eyes as if bewitched by him and cursed to not move away from him, lowered to his lean yet muscular body, to his broad, stiff chest and straight abdomen.
He was a specimen crafted with perfection. And the most gorgeous man she had ever met in life.
But his wretched self that made the weak and strong alike shudder. The menacing, powerful ambience he emitted; the stare made her shudder in fear to crave a hiding hole.
How he could do things to your body, with those very jeweled hands. How he will see and make sure of the horrendous things happen to you with those very crystal-black eyes with a blank face. How he would swear and curse and derogate, defile, humiliate with the most poisonous-venomlike curse slipping through like butter through those same ruby lips.
Can you take it? Aren't you a trained little whore?
Her voices were desperately yelling in her head, but all her attention was snatched by his apprehensive eyes.
His eyes, blank, emotionless. His face so menacingly beautiful.
But when she remembered how he had behaved so childishly, she couldn't help but shudder in. . . . fear?
What might he be having up his sleeves for her? Nobody would assign a scheming brain to such a handsome man.
"Name?", his rough velvety voice rang and she felt a warm wetness between her thighs.
