His Writer |COMPLETE|

Chapter 11🥀Nasty

🎵Listen to Nasty by Ariana Grande🎶

            *WES' POV*

"Where's Chicago ?"

"She's in her room... drunk" Jean, whose seating on the living room couch cuddling with Alex, answers.

Clearly the party is over because the house is empty and quiet.

I knock twice at Chicago's door but she's not answering. So I decide to get in but I can't see her.

I head for the bathroom and that's when I find her bent down, throwing up in her toilet.

I rush to her and hold her hair back. We stay in that position for about twenty minutes till she's done throwing up.

I lift her and place her on the bathroom counter.

I help her brush her teeth and wash her face. When I open one of her drawers in the bathroom, it's full of containers full of pills.

What are all these for ?

Is she sick ?

I take one of the containers and place it in my pocket.

I carry her to bed and gently place her there.

She's still in her gown.

I have to change her.

I head to her closet and come out a few minutes later with pajamas shorts and my t-shirt from the other night.

I was shocked she still had it. I thought after that night she threw it away.

When I come back I find her asleep.

Carefully I help her out of the gown and replace it with my t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

I try very hard not to stare.

When I stand up to leave I feel her hand yank me back down. I stumble and fall on top of her.

Our eyes lock and the lust is clear in her eyes.

How strong is she ?

She stares at me clearly not asleep.

"...I want you." She says.

"Chicago... let me go. For your own good." My voice is barely a whisper.

I could still smell the alcohol on her.

"No..." She whispers in my ear. "I need you."

I could feel myself go hard.

This is going to be a very long night.

***

She is drunk.

I don't want to do anything that she'll wake up in the morning to regret.

"Wes..."  She calls out in a weak voice.

Her voice could manipulate me to almost do anything... and that was the problem.

I sit up and so does she. Our eyes locked and she smiles brightly.

What is she doing to me.

She leans forward and devours my lips in a kiss. She's warm underneath me.

She pulls away my tuxedo coat that I hadn't notice I still had on. Her fingers then started unbuttoning my shirt.

I quickly get a hold of them.

"Chicago..."

Her lips stop my words from spilling, replacing them with a deep mourn.

Having her this close did things to me.

She shifted from sitting on the bed to sitting on my lap, pressing her body against mine.

My eyes immediately go wide.

She hooks her hands round my neck and removes my bowtie. I press my fingers on her thighs intimately and I hear her groan.

She goes for my shirt a second time and I let her. Once my shirt is off she bends and traced her tongue on my abs.

She then reaches out to remove what she has on but I stop her.

I gently remove her from my lap and place her beside me.
She's drunk and doing all these under the influence of alcohol.

As much as I want this, I can't take advantage of her situation right now.

I kiss her forehead and watch as she lapse into sleep.

"This is screwed up on so many levels." I whisper in a very low voice I hardly think she heard me.

"Then why does it feel so right ?" She asks in return to my statement.