STUCK 2

Chapter 15

She hauled back into the headboard, clutching the covers more tightly to her chest, forcing  air in her lungs as she felt her throat tightening around itself. 

He looked stoic, his walls impeccably concealing his emotions but she was caught off guard when she sniffed the anger out of air. And when she cared to look more keenly, the twitch in his jaw only confirmed it. His rage, like always, was unexplainable. And just like several times before, probably someone else had evoked it. It didn't matter nevertheless. It only took her existence around to make her the victim. She was sure even if she all but slightly breathed in his presence, he'd still direct his frustration towards her.

He wanted to pin the woman down and ask her what she wanted. The more vividly he tried to understand her, the deeper the enigma she became. 

Why did she have to moan my name?

He could never misinterpret her voice for something else, he was all too familiar with it. Her noise was a music he never forgot composition of, every pitch of her words was ingrained in his memory, and when he heard it after years of painful torment, his wrath boiled at the truth that she dared lace enmity on her tongue while dreaming all the dirty filth in her sleep. The discrepancy of her actions and mind was frustrating, for both him and now her too. 

She gulped as he took a step forwards, wondering whether she had actually screamed his name loud enough for him to hear. Her gaze briefly shifted to the unlocked door and back to him as his eyes suddenly became transparent, oozing a mockery filled curiousness.

"What was that?" he asked, watching his shaken body from distance,

"What was what?" she asked as if unaware what he referred to, playing cool as if she hadn't just given him the key to the dark corners of her mind. 

"Are we going to play this game?" he pushed his hand in one of his suit pockets, making her eyes drift to the place. His freshly ironed suit fitted him all too well, complimenting his muscles that bulged nonetheless, her predilection for the men in suite damaging as he stood confidently in height, intimidating with his eyes. 

"Get out of my room" She gulped again, sounding anything but confident. Now wasn't the time to confront the man that had fucked her senselessly. In her dream or not she had experienced the realness, embracing the throbbing in between her legs as the only truth. Her mind had still not recovered from the remembrance of his lascivious gaze, his powerful thrusts that had convulsed inside her pussy like a possession that he owned. All that her mind could think of was the wetness she had gathered uncomfortably in her panties, teasing her pussy as a reminder of the filthiness of her dreams. 

"Your room?" he chuckled, stirring something obnoxious in her stomach, something she didn't what to decipher, 

"You live in my fucking mansion might I remind you?"

"You were standing there like a pervert weren't you?" She diverted the argument, ignoring the fact of her weakness that he had thrown on her face, rather accusing him back for being the creep. 

"Oh I was minding my business quite neatly Miss Tara" He took yet another step closer, making her hold the cover tightly, making her knuckles turn whiter,

"And then I heard you calling my name", another step closer, "rather ravishingly" 

"Leave" She warned for the last time, undeniably furious at herself for mouthing the things in her fantasy, getting no valuable reaction from him, his gaze only becoming mischievous. 

"Not before you tell me what I did to you" 

She blinked, awestruck by his demand. She couldn't believe the audacity of the man. It seemed like she couldn't own the contents of her mind too and for goodness it was infuriating. She knew it was the argument he wouldn't understand, he was too intrusive to understand the complex concept of privacy.