I don't want someone like you, I want you.
_______________________________
Olivia Brown
I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about what I said.
You have me.
What was the matter with me? What was I thinking?
You have me.
Why did I say that? Why did I care so much about him? The hate was completely gone. I felt no hatred towards him, even after everything he had done to me.
He kidnapped me, he beat me, he suffocated me, he looked down on me. But all that, I somehow always forgot when I was near him. Those moments, when he took me in his arms and kissed me hard, made me forget all the pain he had brought upon me. In those moments, I felt safe, I felt...loved. I wanted to be with him every second. And when I wasn't with him, I always wondered where he was and when he would come back,... back to me.
I cared about him, I cared too much for my own good. He was constantly on my mind. I was trying not to think about him, but it made it worse. I kept thinking about him, even when I was trying not to.
I had broken my own promises. It felt like I had betrayed myself. Since I knew if he wanted me, I would give him myself, my body, my mind and my soul. He could own everything, if he desired. If he just said the words, I would be there, by his side.
I had fallen for him, without even realising.
I had fallen for Antonio Romano.
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The next day, I woke up to a warm but empty bed. Antonio wasn't in the room.
No, not again.
Did he leave me again, after a night we spent together? We didn't even fuck this time.
I let out a little groan as I slipped off of his bed. I gazed at the bedside table; the medicine was gone.
Without caring to take back my own clothes from his closet, I headed back to my room. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and put my hair up in a messy bun. I was sure that Antonio wasn't home, however, I still hoped that he was. It felt like something had changed between us. I couldn't describe it exactly, but it felt like we were...closer.
I made my way downstairs to the kitchen only to halt by the stairs. I couldn't believe my eyes. There in the kitchen stood Antonio, only in some grey soft pants, bare chested. His muscular back was facing me. I never knew a guy's back could be a turn-on.
As I walked closer to him, I realised he was making pancakes. What?
When he felt my presence, he turned around.
"Hey," he said with a little smile.
He was in a good mood. Shouldn't he be hungover?
"Hi..." I replied slowly with a frown.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked with that smile again.
"I...yeah? Shouldn't I ask you that?" He was the one who drank, not me.
He smirked. "The pancakes are almost done. Sit down." I hopped on the counter. He turned around to prepare a plate for me, and yet again, I was facing his gorgeous back.
"You look good in my clothes," he said, still with his back facing me. I had forgotten that I was still wearing his white see-through t-shirt. The shirt had risen dangerously, flashing my thighs. I didn't answer; instead, I tried to push down the shirt in order to cover my thighs. It didn't work.
I liked wearing his clothes, they were comfortable, and they smelled like him.
With a plate full of pancakes, he turned around, gazing at me as he walked up to me. Placing the plate next to my thigh, he put both of his hands on the counter on either side of me, caging me in.
"Eat." He demanded with his intense gaze.
"I'm not hungry." Murmuring, I gazed at his face, bemused. Why is he acting like nothing has happened? Should I act like that too?
Maybe the things he said to me last night were nothing special. Something everyone perhaps already knew. Yet, when he told me all those things, it felt like it wasn't something everyone knew, and maybe he trusted me. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
Should I say something about yesterday? I wanted to; I couldn't just ignore it. I wanted to know more about him.
Suddenly, I remembered the conversation I had with him when I found him.
"You haven't yet answered me. Why are you drinking?" His grin faded away, and a scowl took form. His joking and all-smiling mood disappeared, got replaced with a cold and a distant Anton. I didn't like this Anton; I liked that one before more.
"Celebrating," he said coldly, gazing away at the frozen lake. Celebrating?
"Celebrating what?" I questioned with a frown.
"Celebrating my mother's birthday."
Did that mean he got wasted on every birthday?
"Do you drink every birthday?" I blurted out. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head.
"I mean when it's your mom's birthday." I explained.
He exhaled a long breath. "No." He didn't say anything more. But I kept staring at him.
He continued with a sigh, "It was just that time. Because I was confused and angry with myself."
"Why?" Mumbling, I gazed down at my hands.
"Because I craved you so damn much. You're constantly on my mind. It confuses the hell out of me," he growled furiously, like it was my fault.
I'm constantly on his mind?
I tried to stop myself from smiling by biting my lower lip. Slowly his hand went up to my cheek, his thumb stroked my lower lip, freeing it from my teeth.
"Don't bite your lip," he said huskily.
"Why?"
"Because it fucking turns me on. Feel." He brought my hand to his crotch. I gasped, he was hard and big. I had forgotten how big he actually was. Knowing he was hard, and I was the one who made him, made me smirk. Knowing that I affected him as much as he affected me, felt good. Only if he knew how soaked my lacy thong was now. Him being bare-chested, muscular and all. His sex-pack was tanned and rock-hard.
He brought my hand to his lips, kissing it slowly while staring into my eyes. I exhaled quietly. His other hand went slowly to my thigh.
"Spread your legs." Without even hesitating, I obeyed.
"Good girl." His hand went to my throbbing heat, but he didn't touch. Still, I felt the warmth from his hand. He was just ghosting his hand over my heat until he drew his knuckles down to the centre of my thongs.
"You're so wet," he said hoarsely, gazing at my eyes for approval. When I didn't stop him, he began touching me. Slowly, he dragged his knuckles over my slit, up to my clit and then back down again. He hooked my thong with his fingers, moving it to the side. He exhaled at the sight of my soaking wet pussy. Stopping a second before pushing two long, thick fingers into me. I moaned quietly. He smirked and pushed his fingers deeper into me. His other hand placed my hand on his broad shoulder, and continued to my nipple, pinching and kneading it. His thumb circled my clit slowly, making me gasp and moan. I was watching him slowly slide his fingers in and out of me. Suddenly, he stopped, I whimpered.
"Do you want to come, Olivia?" He gazed into my eyes, leaning closer to my face. A moan left my mouth when I nodded. His lip brushed mine.
"Beg me." He demanded with his deep voice. I gulped. "Y-yes...please." I was desperate for a release. He shook his head with a grin.
"Anton, please...please, make me come." He smirked and forced a third finger into me.
"You're so tight." It was almost too much, but hell, it felt good.
Suddenly, I heard the front door open.
"Honey, I'm home." I heard Colt singsong. Like a reflex, I pushed Antonio away from me and jumped off of the counter. Anton looked mad. He stared at my eyes as he slowly brought his fingers—which were covered with my wetness—to his mouth. He slowly sucked his fingers clean.
"Delicious." He smirked. "Now, go up to your room like a good girl before they see your delicious cunt."
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