𝐌𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 | 𝖱𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽-𝖱

14 | In Too Deep - P1

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The soft sounds of the automated, sliding blinds made the latina eye's peek open; witnessing the disparity of the dark and light colors from the sunrise. That made her tired eyes blink more and stare. Once the gliding blinds made a click sound, it then molded itself into the walls; also while having the programmed alarm to hum out a familiar melody.

Wise man says,
only fools rush
in...

But I can't help
falling in love
with you...

Lauren gently closes her eyes all the while biting down on her bottom lip to keep from smiling so hard. What a beautiful way to wake up. Her feet meet the wooden format as she yawns, stretching her aching bones. The door soon pushed opened, introducing her boss.

"You're up. Good morning." It took everything in both of them to not pounce on each other; Normani dress in a black suede suit, and Lauren's porcelain skin, painted with hickeys and big and bright love bites. "Little one, are you hungry?" Starving, actually. So she nods, "Good. I'm sure my maiden wouldn't mind looking after you. I have a phone call to make, so I'll skip out on this one."

Leave it to hesitation to fill her shoes as she freezes up but she chokes it back as the green-eyed girl gaze up at her with big, doe eyes. Reaching her, she place her lips on top of her forehead ever so slightly, then back away.

"Don't cause any trouble, kitten. I'll be back." Kitten?

Her head tilt over as she walks away, fading away when the door closes. After smiling to herself, she went into the bathroom, right next to the whips. When she head into that direction, she drags her fingers out of prying; almost shedding her skin when she felt how thick they were. The whips, aren't ones to be played with.

She needs to call Harry...

"Have your holes been filled?" the playful guy answers; he had just came home from working a nightshirt, and was actually just about to call the missing girl when he didn't see her usual self rushing around the apartment, getting ready for work. He threw his jacket on the sofa before plopping down with a spent sigh. "I definitely need mines filled."

"Okay, yeah–good morning to you, too, Harry. And too much information as well. Nobody needs to know that."

"Look who's talking. What about that time you burst into the apartment–and almost took your arms off by the way, and yelled: I'm a black woman's whore! Did you ever stop and think that I wanted to hear that?"

Lauren's face became distorted, "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry head leaned onto the couch as he mutters out a sigh, "I'm stress and horny. And home sick. I just really miss my shitty, dysfunctional family. I actually left them over someone who was never even real. Now...I'm just by myself–all alone."

Lauren scoffs to herself with a small smile of hurt on her face, "I'm here, Harry. You are not alone. I mean, we may not know each other from a can of paint, but you know I would do anything for you, right?"

It's true. It's amazing how fast their bond grew

Harry stares at the half-assed decorations displaying on the fireplace; one of the three stockings is about to fall off any second now, the string lights are low, there's no fever of joy in them whenever he looks at them. "You miss your family sometimes, right?" His voice just had no life in them, as if he had been rejected for the tenth time today. "Or maybe just the idea of being loved."