Pretty and Painful

beg

BLAQUE -

"Like what you see?" he smirked.

Obviously, but I didn't say it.

He was stupidly handsome, and I was staring at him while he was stretching those muscles. The heat in this room has suddenly increased, and I am feeling hot and don't know who to blame it on.

I stopped the treadmill, turned around to face him, and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like?" he said, coming closer and jumping on the treadmill beside me.

"Like you're here to annoy me." I bickered. I don't know why I say such things. His proximity is starting to get to me, and I am not liking this at all. He ignored me and started running on the treadmill. I contemplate whether I should stay, but why should I stop on his account?

I go towards the weight section, put my headphones back on, and continue with my exercises. I know he was staring at me through the mirror, and strangely, I like it.

After completing my exercise, I throw myself on the ground right there, closing my eyes and spreading my legs and hands due to exhaustion. I feel someone hovering over me, and I know who that is.

"I am not dead yet," I declared, my eyes still closed.

"Wow, you've been so used to me in a few days. Impressive," he commented.

I open my eyes and glare at him. "Just my impressive sixth sense, sensing a dangerous presence every time."

"Ouch, that hurt my feelings," he said while squatting near me.

"Your poor little heart, take care of it; otherwise, one day it might get destroyed by my hands," I laughed.

He smiled and said, "If my heart is to be destroyed by your hands, then I'll gladly present it to you on a platter, little one."

My smile faded at his words, and he went completely still, realising what he had just blurted out right now. It was getting awkward for both of us, so he got up. I expected him to leave, but instead, he extended his hand in front of me so that I could get up. Sometimes these kinds of small gestures melt my heart, and I wanted to give up the attitude and kiss him fiercely, but I know that it's not a good idea. But still, I was raised better, and thus I took his hand, and he pulled me right into his chest.

His hands automatically came right around my waist, and I came around his neck, and our noses were touching.

He pressed his forehead against mine and said, "I want to taste you so badly, little one."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I was breathing heavily.

"Your begging," he said.

"You are the one who needs this desperately," I argued.

"Saying the one who is turned on and breathing heavily," he mentioned.

"Like you aren't."

"I am, and I have never denied it like you," he said.

"You are making this very difficult," I whined.

He released me, drew himself back, and said, "The day you are ready to beg, come find me," and left.

That smug bastard. I am still breathing heavily, like I have run 5 miles and haven't kissed him yet. Ugh, why does he have to be so difficult? God, these mafia men are so full of themselves that they think the world revolves around them. And then they say that women are fragile. I think the most fragile thing in this world is a man's ego and his pride, especially that of my husband.