Calling him up was a bad idea. A terrible one at that.

Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to be stuck in his penthouse at ten in the evening all because of your stupid call—or maybe it was inevitable.

Everything happened a little way too fast until everything was out of your grasp. You’re stuck with him now and there’s nothing left you can do.

His bright orange hair draped along the frame of his shoulder whilst his front hair was almost touching yours. A pair of hands kept you pinned against the wall—you looked like a small prey watching a predator loom over them.

His coat was already off, strewn on the floor next to you. His free hand trails over your shoulder until it reaches your jawline. To feel his touch without his gloves was enough to make you jolt with pleasure.

You knew that he enjoyed this and he knew that you did too.

His hands slipped against the hem of your shirt, slowly trying to pull it upwards. He paused, stroking the skin right by the side of your waist. He caressed it slowly, making sure that he’d handle you as gently as possible.

His figure leans closer to you, his lips close to your ear as he speaks a few words laced with a sultry tone.

“Darling, you’re so pretty it hurts.”