Clara awoke to the sound of her phone blaring the alarm for her to get up and get ready for work.
She groaned and turned over to grab the phone and turn it off. She swiped her finger across the screen and moved back to her previous position. Her head on Flints chest. He held the girl, groggily trying to wake up.
"I have to work today," she says closing her eyes and breathing in his scent of alcohol and smoke.
"Lets take the day off," he says.
He runs his fingers through her hair and then along her bare back.
He enjoyed this, waking up to the beautiful woman, hearing her melodic voice and seeing her green eyes perch up at him with innocence and temptation.
"No, I need to work in order to get my own place," she says then groans as she moves away from the man. She sits up and turns to stand up. His arms wrap around the vixen, pulling her back to him.
"You're not getting your own place, you're staying here, with me, forever," he says playfully smiling at the idea.
She giggles, causing his ears to perch like a dog.
"You'll get tired of me, trust me," she says with her giggles.
"That is impossible. You, love, are too fucking perfect," he says then places kisses along her spine. The scars on her back are healing nicely, he notes, they may not leave scars.
"Your back is healing. There may not be scars," he mentions.
"I've had lashes less worse than these and they left scars, I'm not so sure," she says cautiously trying to not tell him what occurred.
"We should probably take a shower before work," she says changing the subject.
She stands up an allows the man to see her in full view. He feels his member twitch as she turn to let him view her from the front. He lets out a deep breath and bites his lip.
"You're gonna be the death of me, one day your going to give me a heart attack," he says looking over her smooth pale body. She rolls her eyes at his comment then turns to the bathroom.
________________
After disposing of last nights cold uneaten dinner, Flint makes eggs and toast for both him and Clara. He'd hoped they would be able to have a meal together without his desire taking control of him.
Last night he had lost control and he was ashamed of it. Watching her move around his kitchen, smiling, humming, ordering him to help, wearing those tiny shorts and that low cut t-shirt, all of it had driven him to insanity. Then with her sarcasm and playful banter, he had decided to give in. When they sat at the table the previous night, he had indulged in his desire. He sucked at her neck, felt her, then tasted the skin of her chest. He allowed himself to let go and allowed himself to taste her core on his fingers. When he pushed her away he didn't mean to insult her, all he wanted was to calm himself down before he slammed her on the dinning room table and tore her apart. He didn't want to be rough with her but she was too tempting.
When Clara became upset with him and stormed upstairs, he knew he had insulted the girl. When he went after her, he had no plans on pushing her on the bed and taking her from behind. He didn't plan on spanking her and pulling her hair, but rather asking her to have a meal with him, to talk to him. When he entered her room, his plans were thrown out the window and he felt his entire body move into a fit of rage. Seeing her body in full view was the last straw. He lost control, from spanking, to pulling her hair, from telling her to say things to telling her to do things. He felt horrible that maybe he had pushed her into doing things that she didn't want to do. He wanted to talk to her and make sure she wasn't at odds end about their situation, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable enough to stay for as long as she'd like.
His mind wondered with questions on whether she was comfortable or not. He leaned against the island, his hand held a coffee cup while the other flipped through a large red leather book if finances for the bar.
He had already eaten his breakfast and he was feeling angst as more time passed and Clara was not in the kitchen.
Maybe she didn't want to come down? Maybe she was scared of him? He hated the idea of her being scared, it made his skin crawl.
Clara had finished her shower, dried and tucked her damp strands behind her ears. She got dressed in a short black skater shirt, a low cut Port t-shirt and a pair of black wedged boots.
She descended the stairs and entered the foyer, tossing her brown leather shoulder bag on the floor by the end table by the door. She swayed her hips seductively as she entered the kitchen, intending on grabbing Flint's attention.
Her goal had been met, however her intentions had repercussions.
Flint looked her up and down, stunned by her beauty, however his stomach turned into knots once he realized that the vixen was wearing the alluring clothes not for him but for work.
She moves around the island to his side to gave him a kiss, as she moves he puts his coffee cup down and closes the leather book as his irritation fills to the rim.
Clara is confused when Flint grabs her by the arm and begins to pull her back to the staircase. She pulls away worriedly, unaware of the large mans intentions.
"Flint!" She scolds pulling her arm away. Once in front of the front door, the man lets her go. She takes a step back and realizes the anger within him. He groans slightly, irritated that he would have to use force to get her to change her clothes. Yet he hadn't even asked her.
He grabs her by the hips and lifts her over his shoulder. She squeals and smacks his back, however it hurts her more to hit him since the man was hard as a brick wall with muscles.
Clara yelled at him to let her go, saying that they needed to go to work.
He lets her down gently, she stumbles back and sits on the edge of the bed in the guest bedroom. She is stunned that he hasn't lunged at her and pulled her clothes off yet, and she is even more stunned to when he begins to open the dresser drawers in search of a pair of jeans. He finally finds a pair of skinny jeans and tosses the material on her lap.
Clara realizes that her attire was offensive to him. He had given her a home, food, hot water, and a bed with him in it and still she dressed ready to flirt with customers for tips.
She pulls off her boots and lets the skirt slip down her legs. He watches her put the jeans on and move the t-shirt over the buttons.
"You could have just asked," she says bitterly.
"Would you have listened?"
She thinks about it.
"Yes. You're my boss, I have-" she begins to explain but he shakes his head and lets out a burst of anger filled words.
"I don't wan to be just your boss!"
She is taken back and sits down on the edge of the bed again, not knowing how to take his words.
"I don't...I don't think of you as just an employee, Clara. Not as a girl who is staying at my home, not as a girl who needs help, and definitely not as a child," he explains. She is silent, wanting him to hold back the words because with them comes her guilt of not telling him everything. She felt that she was had more baggage than any other girl. That he would regret his words once he knew everything about her, where she came from, what she had been through, how she was raised.
"Clara, are you listening to me?" He says grabbing her attention from her state of guilt.
"What?" She says looking up to meet his gaze.
"I know you are dealing with a lot, I want to help you. I want you to stay here as long as you need, whether we are sleeping in the same bed or if you just want me to be your boss, but I need you to know that I will always see you as how I see you now." He tries hard to explain how he feels but without getting carried away and scaring her. He didn't want to say love, it was too early for that but he felt a passionately about her.
"How do you see me now?" She asks worriedly. She didn't want to be that naive girl who fell hard for the older man when in reality he just wanted sex. She felt that she would mess up and cause their flame to die out.
"I have no idea...I just want you. I want to sleep beside you, eat beside you, work with you, help you, take care of you. I just...I just don't know how when I am dying with guilt and anger," He says furiously, trying to drive out the thoughts in his head. Silence in the room creates terrible tension. Guilt and anger, the two words go around the young girls head. She worried about what shes done to him. She worries that she has made a mistake already.
"Are you angry with me?" She asks suddenly. He turns to her, his fear of her being scared of him comes to mind.
"God no! I'm...I'm angry at myself," he reassures her.
"You haven't done anything. If anything, you should be angry at me. I have burdened you with so much-"
"Your not a burden, don't think like that," he interrupts.
"How am I supposed to think? I can't help but feel guilty for intruding on your life. Giving me a job, letting me stay here, helping me go home and get my things, protecting me from my father, you've done so much and yet I am just sitting here."
"You sitting there is more than enough, Clara. You have no idea how insane I've become. None of my feelings or thoughts are normal when it comes to you. I am much older, by more than ten years and instead of seeing you as a child, It takes everything out of me to not rip your clothes off," he explains thoroughly.
"When your serving drunk men, It takes every part of me to not lock you away from them. If they touch you or say anything to you, I feel so much rage that it kills me," he continues.
She stands up and allows her hands to cup his face. She shakes her head slightly.
"You're guilty of caring about me? If that's what you're ashamed of, Flint, then you must have it so hard," she says at first with concern then with sarcasm.
"I've done a lot of bad things, Clara, a lot of things that I regret. None of them involve you. I feel guilty only of not having you sooner."