DON’T HURT ME
I’M A vir-gin💦
Rated:🔞+
©️ ILLICTIMAGINATION
✍️ Chapter Twelve✍️
😋LEYLA😋
The sun from the small window illuminates the whole room and instantly as if it’s my alarm, I wake up.
I feel groggy and energy drained, and then the events of what I’ve done yesterday hit me.
I left him. I sigh as I try to imagine what he is doing at the moment.
Probably slee-ping. I tell myself. It is after all only six thirty in the morning according to the unkempt clock on the wall.
I can’t help it when I automatically take another whiff of his scent from his t-shi-t only to realise that his scent is somehow beginning to fade. I sigh again as I relive the memory of yesterday morning. His arms holding me closely as we made love–well to him it might’ve been just casual S-x, since I had after all been there for that.
I t©uçh myl-ips abs£ntmindedly as I remember his scorchingl-ips upon my own, and everywhere on my b©dy.
And his ton-gue. I can almost feel it l!çk!ng and nipping at my n£¢k; moving down to my collarbone; trailing between my br£@st and teasing and su-cking. I can almost feel that same ton-gue down to my ñ@v£l; to that line of my pelvis, between my th!ghs.
I shiver and squirm suggestively, alre-ady feeling my insides moist up.
I should st©p this. It won’t do me good. I am the one who left him. There is no point in trying to torture myself with these explicit thoughts.
Last night I promised myself to clear my thoughts of Jeremy. Now I’m not doing myself any good by bringing these memories up. I remind myself the first step I have to do, and that is job hunting.
For a third time this morning I sigh once again. I have a feeling that there’s a lot of sighing to come, at that thought I sigh.
I re-move Jeremy’s clothes from my b©dy and then fold them in a neat pile before placing them on the bo-ttomdrawer which is empty due to my limited clothing.
Before I place them in the drawer, I take one last final sniff of his overwhelming scent. I am relishing in the aroma of vanilla, detergent and his cologne and also my sweat in the mix.
This is the last I will do this. I promise myself while closing the drawer. I then take out my long tee which I use as nightwear, since the tee reaches my knees. I finally get rid of the un-derwear from last night as I put it in my plastic wash basket. I put the corset in the drawer along with Jeremy’s clothes and close the drawer, just as I lock away those treasured memories I shared with him.
I move toward the broken long mirror near the mattress but I refuse to stare at my reflection, instead I shift it to one side. It reveals a small metal container. It’s decorated in mattered flowers and the paint is almost disappearing. The container has all my treasured belongings.
By treasured, I don’t mean expensive stuff. No, just small things I have come to inherit from the eighteen years of my life. Inside it includes a ph0to of the fraud foster home where I spent dark twelve years of my life.
Why I keep this ph0to? I don’t really know.
Also in the container, there is a small number of jewellery I c@m£ to find from the streets; a fallen earring; a forgotten n£¢klace or br@celet; and rings. I also keep my saved money, from all the pawning of these intricate treasures I found.
I just simply go to a pawnshop with a gold ring or n£¢klace and I come out with thirty or fifty if I’m lucky. I’ve managed to hide this money from Greta all this long. I’ve never used it before.
But today with my plan on set, I’m finally going to.
“It’s not much, but it’s something,” I mutter to myself as I place it on the secret pocket of my jacket.
I then ti-ptoe out of my room to the hallway. I faintly hear the snores of Greta coming from the room across. Good she’s still slee-ping.
I go to the bathroom and risk using her h0t water as I take a five minute shower. The water feels so good, it reminds me of the shower I took at Jer–no don’t start with him.
I turn the shower off immediately only to then start brushing my teeth.
I towel dry my hair since I don’t have a hair dryer and then keeping the towel on my head, I run to the kitchen.
As I enter, I st©p in my tracks instantly. Why?
Well, because there’s a six foot four figure of man leaning against the kitchen counter as he engulfs on his cigarette.
He has dark floppy hair which reaches his eyes and instantly I think; be-d hair. His eyes themselves look dark from where I’m standing and as they lock with mine, I almost cower away.
His expression shows an element of surprise at first as he takes me in and his dark eyes travel down all over me. I now wish I wore something more than this stupid t-shi-t. After he has as-sessed me–more like undressed me from head to toe with his eyes–he finally meets my eyes while casually taking a puff of his cigarette.
“Who are you?” He frowns at me.
I stare. Am I not the one who’s supposed to be asking him that? Since I was the resident of this so-called ap@rtment. But with his tone, it’s as if he’s the owner of the place.
I scowl at him, my anger flaring, “Who are you?”
That makes him smile for some odd reason. Hisl-ips twitch into a sm-irk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I asked first.”
The nerve of this guy.
“Well I am the resident of this place, so I deserve some explanation.” I retort.
His eyes narrow. “So you must be the servant girl she talks about.”
I blanch. Anger rises up my throat as his words sink in. Servant!
“And so you must be one of her boy toy she pla-ys with.” I counter angrily.
He blinks suddenly, his eyes murderous as he dare takes a step towards me. His nostrils are flaring.
His eyes are in slits as he stares coldly at me and from this close I can faintly trace a colour in them. But they’re not a warm blue gray from Jerem–I swallow. St©p. Why am I suddenly comparing him to Jeremy?
“I won’t be insulted by a servant girl.” He puffs smoke right onto my face and I resist the urge to cough as I internally choke on the tobacco that’s now hitting my lungs.
“I’m not a servant.” I hiss. How dare he? How dare he judge me?
He lifts an eyebrow. “Feisty one aren’t you.”
He sm-irks as he moves closer to me, invading my personal space and I back up immediately. This makes his sm-irk increase and then he laughs a cold chortle.
At this rate, my heartbeat has long since spiked up. All my instincts tell me that this man should be feared, they tell me to run as far away as I can.
“Ah, not so feisty then.” He chuckles and gr-abs the hem of my t-shi-t with one hand as he pu-ll me towards him. The other finds an ashtray and dabs his cigarette.
I j£rk away from him immediately, and I manage to break free his hold. But as soon as I move away, he has taken hold of both my arms.
Adrenalin has spiked in my lim-bs, and at this case my instincts tell me fight not flight. I thrash away from his hold, trying to free my arms but his grip is stronger.
“Let go of me.” I whisper in a raspy voice. I intended to shout at him but as usual my voice betrays me.
He pu-lls me flush against him, and I feel the rigidness of his che-st muscles but they have nothing on Jer–goodness must you bring up his name again.
I wriggle away, trying my best to free my arms. My br@in seems to have shut down on the little self-defence I c@m£ to know from years of living in the streets.
He frees my arms, only to pu-ll me closer as his hands move to the hem of my tee toward the back of my th!ghs. Suddenly, he gr-abs hold of my as-s.
I squeak out because I’m not even wearing any un-derwear.
“No un-derwear.” He says approvingly, his voice is somehow softer than the harsh way he was earlier.
“Ugh!”
I use my now free hands to punch and sl@p his che-st but he feels nothing. And so thinking my thrashing won’t work, I st©p.
This surprises him as his intense icy blue eyes glare down at me. He st©ps groping at my ba-re as-s but his hands remain there. I look up at him, trying to ascertain his change of mood. Then he closes his eyes, his eyebrows still scrunched up when he finally lets go of me.
He takes his lighter from the counter, and lights up another cigarette.
“Don’t just stand there, gaping. Make me breakfast, servant girl.” He commands.
This, this man. Who does he think he is? And to, to just t©uçh me like that!
✍️ To be continued ✍️