"It means that I want you to fuck me. Hard," She ripped the vest that limited their contact, tugging it away like a wanton woman. "I want you to take control of me, of my body," She dauntlessly divulged her inner cravings, placing open mouthed kisse...
Waking up with a satisfied smirk in the morning, I stretched her body, purring like a kitten when I felt the soft covers on my exposed skin. There's nothing better than the feeling of soft cloth coming in contact with your shaved skin. And that's a fact.
Take notes, ladies... Or men.
"You look mighty happy today." I jerked a little, not expecting to hear Dylan's voice, even though it was his room and all of his belongings were still here. I tilted herself so that I was facing him. I saw him discreetly eye me up and down, his smile faltering a bit, replaced by a lustful expression which he shook off. He was already dressed in a blue shirt and black trousers underneath, all buttoned up, with the sleeves cuffed, too. He resembled a nerdy school boy.
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"I am," I responded, an idea forming in my mind. I looked at him then, slowly turned my body around to lie on my stomach. I made sure that the sheets slipped off just a little so that they pooled around the small of my back, not going any further. Plopping ,myself on my elbows, I passed him one of my practiced flirtatious grin, hearing him suck in a sharp intake of breath.
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I saw his eyes flash green for a second, turning back to their original brown color, then green again. It was obvious that he was fighting his wolf for control, which he was, unfortunately, winning. The dangerous side of me wanted to see what would happen if he did lose control. But, then again, I had never encountered anyone as innocent as Dylan, so I wasn't entirely sure of what would happen.
"What's for breakfast?" I asked, after a few seconds of watching his intense mental battle.
"Breakfast?" Dylan murmured, still stuck in his daze.
I rose an eyebrow, when in reality, I rose both of them, as this was an art I was never able to master, "You know, the meal we eat in the morning, the most important meal of the day?"
"Breakfast!" Dylan exclaimed, suddenly snapping out of his trance. "Right, I made...some stuff, that I can't seem to remember, right now," Dylan muttered, bringing his hand up to scratch the base of his neck, a small blush tinting on his cheeks.
I giggled. Ah, the effect mates have on each other. "Well, how about you give me some time to freshen up and we'll go see what you've made, together?"
Nodding, Dylan blinked his eyes a few times, as if trying to process what had just happened. After about four blinks, he staggered out of the room, again, shutting the door behind him.
Giggling again, I walked to the closet and picked out her outfit for the day.
~*~
Dylan's POV:
'Friends, we're just friends.'
'Fuck being friends! I want mate! Mate with mate!'
'How many times do I have to tell you this? We're. Just. Friends, for the meantime.'
'Your naive mind can't see it, but if you don't keep her to yourself, then she'll drift away from you, into the arms of another man.'
I scoffed at my wolf. 'Nope, that's not going to happen. She'll fall for me, you'll see.'
My wolf wanted to protest but I blocked him out. Not being out for a run for so long, along with being stripped off his title made him cranky. It took a toll on him and me, which I had been desperately hiding, not wanting my mate to see me suffer.
The little trick that Amelia had played before lingered in my mind, making a shiver run down my spine. Her skin glistened beautifully because of the sunlight, her blonde hair only adding to its silkiness. I wasn't a master of reading emotions displayed in eyes, but I could swear I saw mischievousness in hers.
Her scent didn't help me at all. My wolf was going crazy inside me, and it took a lot of strength and willpower to succumb to not his demands. All I wanted to do was make love to her in my bed, but my life wasn't a clone of any PG 13 movie. Shaking off my thoughts, which I had been doing a lot now, I quickly set the plates on the table, waiting for Amelia to show up.
I heard the patter of light feet and a smile set upon my face. Not a second later, I saw Amelia emerge in the dining room, a small smile on her face.
"Hey, bestie," I cringed inwardly at Amelia's nickname, but covered it up with a smile.
"Hey, Mel," I replied, tilting my face to the side a little.
She pulled out one of the chairs and plopped herself on it, immediately digging into her food right after.
"I hate to add fuel to your pride," Amelia started, after about three bites, "but, your cooking is just too good. Seriously, any girl would fall for you if you keep up cooking like this."
"Any girl?" My eyes lit up with hope.
"Any girl...aside from me," She winked, looking at the way Dylan frowned. I murmured something under my breath, picking up the folded newspaper that was on the table and proceeded to read it. Mostly, it was to avoid looking at her because I feared what I might do of I did look at her, but I liked to be aware of the world's events.
We ate in a comfortable silence, the sound of utensils clanking and the occasional flipping of the newspaper's pages filling the room. Halfway along the meal, Amelia looked up and the first thing she saw was the picture of a dress in the newspaper.
"What the actual fuck?" Amelia seethed, standing up, making the chair fall backwards as she snatched the newspaper from my hands.
"What? What's so wrong that you had to drop the f-bomb?" I asked, standing up and quickly glanced around the room for any threat. When I saw there wasn't any, I relaxed a little and looked at Amelia who was reading the newspaper while glaring at it. From her glare, it seemed as if she wanted to set the paper on fire.
"Oh, that bitch! She's done it now, hasn't she?" Amelia laughed humorlessly, her knuckles turning white from clenching the paper too hard.
"What happened?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to trigger her anger as I cautiously walked behind Amelia to look at what she was reading.
"This dress! This was one of the dressed I sketched! And this bitch," She said the word with so much anger that I flinched, "had the audacity to steal my artwork!"
"Which b-word stole your artworks?" I asked, my head still dizzy from all the information she was feeding me in not-too-friendly words. I actually felt pity for the poor soul that she was angry on. But then again, I had seen much worse anger before from Michael.
"That whore of a bitch I used to call best friend, Cindy."
~*~
A/N: And, boom goes the dynamite!
Am I good at plot twists? *bites nails nervously*
Who remembers Cindy from the Pack? Honestly speaking, if anyone stole my work, I'd just sit there and shed countless angry tears for a while before even trying to confront the problem because that's just how divergent my emotions are smh.
What would you do if you were in Amelia's place?
Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, pleaseeeee...
Don't forget to vote to inspire my creative juices! <3
