Royally Screwed

02

Content Warning: this chapter contains violence that may be triggering to some readers.

"Are you always on the beach?" His long body falls gracelessly next to me on the sand. A couple of girls glanced our way including a hot brunette whose eyes lingered on the two of us, I ignored them, glancing at him in his sunglasses and... hat?

"Nice hat," I replied, brows furrowed in interest. "I didn't think you wore hats."

"Bad hair day," He replied smirking. "Parent's home?"

"You're not shagging me again on the beach," I replied sternly. Crossing my arms across his chest. Something felt a little off about him, it could be the hat but I liked to think I was more intuitive than that. There was a certain, energy about him that felt a little strange. 

A bubble of laughter escaped his lips, "After the last time, the idea has lost it's appeal." The laugh had lost some of it's honesty, I noticed.

My cheeks turned scarlet, and packing my things, I nodded, "No ones home." I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I wasn't sure, I had him for less than two weeks, I should be distancing myself. Not wanting to know what was wrong. 

"Perfect," He replied. We both stood up, I carried my mat in an arm and a book in another. Normally he took the mat away from me, kissed me and walked me home. Today, he took the mat and started walking. I glanced at the shirtless tan muscular back knowing that something was wrong. 

I followed. Near the house, he looked even more frantic, lips tight and body tensed as I opened the door. We both went in. I barely closed the door as I felt a hard chest pressed against my back, lips hot and kissing my neck violently; sucking and biting. I couldn't help it, my body curled on his almost instinctively. A gasp escaping my lips.

He turned me around, gentle but harsh at the same time, pressing me against the door and kissed me on my lips, nothing short of a tornado tearing through a valley. His lips on mine felt hard and unforgiving. My knees felt weak. If he wasn't holding me so securely I might have fallen. 

Everything about him felt hard, from his chest to the bulge in his pants which he pressed harshly against me. He pulled away, taking off his sunglasses, tossing them carelessly on my sofa, before I could say anything, he was kissing my neck, sucking hard on it, I was sure it would leave a mark.

But it felt so fucking good.

My buttoned shirt came off discarded messily on the floor. Kissing my neck, he grabbed my ass, lowering his hands down to my thigh before carrying me. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and wrapped legs around his waist as he carried me to my room. A room he walked in so often, he knew his way to it, even if he was buried in my neck.

He opened the door to my room noisily, still carrying me. He dropped me at the foot of my bed. Taking off his pants. I slid in to the back of the bed, almost a second later he was on the bed, kissing my neck again as I let out a soft moan. His fingers weren't gentle as they untied my bikini and pulled down my bikini bottom. 

Then his lips attacked mine as he slid a finger in me. "You're so wet," he growled.

Then we were shagging.

Fifteen minutes later, the two of us were lying side by side, naked both of us panting, I orgasmed twice before he came. The discarded condom lay hidden beneath rows of paper in my bin. 

I turned to glance at him, "Is everything alright?'

"Yeah, you were good as always."

"Not that," I replied slightly irritated because he knew what I meant, but he was avoiding the topic. 

Philip let out a breath, closing those beautiful eyes of his. "I know, can we not talk about it?"

"Okay." I turned to roll on my side, away from him and pretended I was lying alone on my slightly sandy bed. Sand. I missed stone beaches. As though he could sense my irritation, the bed creaked and his warm arm pulled my waist into where he laid curled up. My back brushing against his chiseled chest.

I wanted to be annoyed, but there was something warm and comforting about his chest, feeling a little weak, I leaned in on the warm chest. I wasn't sure when we drifted off to sleep, but when I woke, he was still curled up against me. The sky was dark and my parents could home at any minute. My clothes and his shades were discarded downstairs. Daintily, I removed myself from his warm embrace, putting on a robe before I wandered downstairs. 

The house was still empty, so I gingerly picked up my shirt and his sunglasses before leaving it in my room. Then I made my way back into the kitchen. If my parents weren't home now, they would be coming in late. 

I normally didn't cook, but today, I needed to do something, so I found the pot and spaghetti noodles and started to make spaghetti for two. It was comforting as I cut tomatoes and soon the smell of melted butter dwarfed around the kitchen. 

Normally, the smell of melted butter was enough to make me hungry but I felt slightly nauseous. Trying to ignore the feeling, I went to the telly, turning it on in time to catch the news.

"40 injured in a concert in Manchester."

"Katy Perry released a new single."

"The Prince of -"

"Hello, beautiful," A distinctly male voice said walking down the stairs quickly. "Cooking anything for me?"

"Mhm, yeah," I replied, turning to glance at the male voice who went straight for the television switching it off. "I was watching that," I said. 

Philip didn't look bothered coming over to the boiling pot, "Spaghetti?" He questioned, surprised.

"Yes, do you like?" I turned around to look at him.

That's when I noticed, he looked uncomfortable, like he wasn't sure what to say or do and it occurred to me that he wasn't going to stay all that long, that he might have supper somewhere else.

"You have somewhere to be, don't you?" I commented turning around, making sure to cover up whatever I was feeling.

"I'm sorry Alana," Philip said kissing my neck. 

"It's fine, I'm hungry enough for two." 

"I'll make it up to you, lunch on me tomorrow." He rubbed my shoulders, I couldn't help but relax at his touch, "I'll meet you by the beach." 

"Okay," I said reluctantly.

He kissed my neck gently, "Thank you Alana." He took several steps away making his way to the door, as the door opened, I heard him say, "Oh and sorry about the marks." Then he left. My hand went to touch my neck, where no doubt a set of dark blue marks and angry red ones tained my skin. I turned around continuing cooking in a now silent house since Philip turned the telly off.

I wasn't hungry enough for two, when everything was cooked I could barely stomach a bite of my spaghetti before I threw up.