Sin With Me; One Night with the Bully

Carved of Desire

I stood in front of a mirror and took in my appearance. I was wearing a black pencil skirt with a short skit behind and a red turtle neck shirt. I smoothened the skirt around me, then turned to zip it up. It was, however, a bit too tight, and I started to move it up in order to get the zipper up.

A knock suddenly came on the door, and I turned letting go of the zipper. The skirt was thankfully tight enough to stay on me.

"Come in," I said, and Florian slowly stepped in.

My eyes widened a bit as I took him in. He was wearing a full suit, his hair slightly ruffled and falling above his forehead in curled waves.

"Hey."

I bit down on my lips, then turned back to the mirror. "You look like the Florian I imagined right now."

I turned to see his expression, but he had none. Like always. "And who is the Florian you imagined?"

He moved away from the wall, then slowly came behind me. I watched him through the mirror as he leaned to keep his phone on the dresser in front of me.

"Let me help you."

I let go of the skirt, and my syws looked up to him as he slowly started to adjust the shirt inside and fix the skirt before he could pull the zipper up.

I watched him, letting his question hang in the air. He was focused as he pulled the two edges together, and just like earlier, I watched him turn red again.

Florian was always above the most handsome man I know, but seeing him blush like that for a task as simple as pulling my zip up, it made me want to laugh.

I immediately leaned as discreetly as I could, then grabbed his phone and punched in the pen. Before he could notice, I put the phone up and took a picture of us in the mirror.

I broke into a laugh, and he looked up, a little flustered.

"What did you do?"

"You just look so cute blushing."

"I wasn't blushing," he said, finally zipping up the skirt.

"Whatever you say, Florian."

He met my eyes in the mirror, and I raised the phone again, taking yet another picture. He rolled his eyes as I broke into a round of laughter.

"Don't ever delete these."

He didn't reply, but I felt him move closer. I turned slightly, and he leaned to me, his chin resting on my shoulder. My lips parted at how close he was now, and my breath hitched in my throat as he turned to me, his brow rising.

"Looks good enough for a picture?"

I blinked, the heat of his words spreading on my own lips, my heart fluttering.

"Or it isn't good enough when you are the one who's flustered?"

I swallowed hard and turned away, my chest heaving. As if to show him that I absolutely could take a picture despite who it was amongst us that was hot and bothered, I raised the phone again and took yet another picture.

Florian, the little bastard that he is, slowly pulled me back to him, his face turning into my neck, which was, thankfully shielded by the turtle neck, but still not good enough against Florian.

"Happy first day," he whispered, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"I won't mess it up."

He chuckled as he moved, then slowly moved his hand around me. A necklace suddenly rested beneath my chest, and he pulled it upwards until it rested right on my chest, and he clasped it behind me.

It was a simple cold piece that was customised in my name, with diamonds following the gold letters. I smiled, tears filling my eyes, as I took yet another picture.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my hand reaching to touch the necklace.

"It was meant to be your eighteenth birthday gift. I never got to give it to you."

"You kept it all those years?"

He chuckled and leaned back to me, his face nuzzling in my neck, his hand wrapped around my stomach as he pulled me into him.

"You can be sure that I did."

I chuckled, turning away. "Thank you. I would have loved it back then. I love it now even more."

He nodded, then turned to the mirror. "Can I have my phone back now?"

"I want one more picture with you."

He raised a brow, and I assumed that to be his acceptance. I had just set the camera to take a photo when Florian suddenly pulled me to him, pulling the turtle neck down, and his lips landed right on my neck.

Not just his lips, but his tongue too, as he slightly brushed against my skin, his hand pressing down on my waist. My head slowly fell back, my lips parting, my eyes closed, and I was vaguely aware of the pictures my fingers were taking.

Before I knew it, he was gone again, and I turned, flustered, utterly confused, and so down bad. So f*****g down.

"Nice pictures," he said, then simply turned away, without even taking the phone from me.

I turned back to the mirror, my eyes blinking rapidly, my hand coming up to my chest. I turned back to the door, and even though he was gone, his scent, his trace, his effect stayed here, hanging above me.

I turned back to the phone in front of me, then opened up the last picture I had taken. I looked like something he had carved of desire and lust, by his own hands, of his own making. His eyes open as he watched me in the mirror.

They held danger, those eyes. Feral danger and a need to possess. A need to dominate. I would be a liar if I said I didn't want to submit so f*****g bad.

I bit down on my lips, then grabbed my coat and turned away, hoping the memories of that encounter would stay in that room.