The Prodigy | ✔︎

10

"Or, um, you can hand it back," my voice quivered. He took a step closer to me so that the smell of his cologne could waltz into my nose.

"I don't want to," he declared. I finally decided to strike. I reached out to grab my panties but the moment I did, he quickly moved them away from me. That one motion left my breasts pressed right up against his chest.

"Please," I begged pathetically.

"Fine. After you have a drink with me," he stated. Immediately, I found myself shaking my head back and forth, but it was already too late. Saint began to walk out of my room, beckoning me to follow.

"I-I don't exactly drink," I muttered softly. "Alcohol consumption has a negative impact on not only the brain, but it also brings malnutrition, stomach distress, behavioral changes, blackouts due to the way alcohol interferes with the brain's ability to make memori-"

"Shut up," Saint cut me off dryly.

"Oh, um, okay," I mumbled.

We traveled all the way to his bar where he walked right in to place himself on a stool. There was already a bottle of rum and an empty glass waiting for him.

I stood in the corner of the room, awkwardly watching him as he poured a glass. Luckily for me, I was able to spot my glasses sitting on one of the seats, so I hurriedly grabbed them and placed them on my face before Saint could stop me.

When I looked up, Saint was already watching me.

"Come here," he ordered.

Slowly, I moved toward him but with each step, my heartbeat quickened. It wasn't until I was directly in front of him that I pushed the bridge of my glasses only my face.

"Open," Saint commanded.

I found myself searching his eyes, but only to see that I had been locked out of them. There was nothing that could reveal his intentions.

Parting my lips ever so slightly, I kept my gaze locked on his. Out of nowhere, he reached up and gripped the strands of my hair, bringing the glass of liquor up to my lips.

"Drink."

Saint began to slowly pour the liquid down my throat, not worrying about if I even liked it. It was like I was drinking poison. I swallowed the rum to keep it from spilling out of my mouth, but I hated every second of it. It made sure to burn a trail down my throat, reminding me of why I decided to never drink in the first place.

"Good girl, Angel," he praised once I finished swallowing every drop. There was so much in the glass, I couldn't figure out how Saint always managed to drink all of that voluntarily. It was torture.

My face scrunched up as the taste still lingered on my tongue.

Saint's eyes darted to my lips. I couldn't end the widening of my eyes as he began to lean in. Just as I was about to pull away, he gripped my chin and thrust me forward. His lips came in contact with the corner of my mouth where he grazed his tongue against my skin.

The motion left a shock to run straight to my core just before he pulled away.

"You had a bit of rum right there," he explained. Even though I tried to strum up something to say, I couldn't. He made me speechless.

I watched as he turned towards the bar to pour another drink, using the same glass he had given me. When he brought the glass up to his lips, he easily downed the entire thing, almost as if it were nothing but water.

Saint seemed to notice how awkward I was standing in front of him because he pointed toward the barstool right beside him. I didn't need to be told twice. Once I sat down on the stool, I noticed how I was so much smaller compared to Saint who was a giant.