Sofia's POV
What? She must be high or something? I'm not sure how to reply to that. It must be a joke. Regardless it causes a sickly feeling to swirl in my stomach.
"Plus just yesterday a report was filed against him. Nadia Zoya or something. She accused him of assault" she continues and my head is kind of spinning. This surely can't be real.
"Annabelle doesn't this sound a bit far fetched?" I reply but my throat is beginning to close up. It's one thing after another. First I'm having a god damn panic attack and now this. Is the world trying to tell me I'm making a mistake being anywhere near Patrick?
"How do you know it's far fetched? You barely know him"
She has a point.
Patrick sits on the bed next to me then, his hand sliding onto my leg. Am I sleeping with a murderer? And if I am, what exactly does she expect me to do right now?
"You'll have to give me more details than that" I reply, trying to keep my sentences normal. I've still said nothing that could give away what I'm saying but it'll be tougher soon.
"I'll send you links. Please get away from him as soon as you can. This is real Sofia!"
"Okay cool no problem, I'll speak to you later" I say cheerily and hang up, keeping my phone tightly clasped in my hand.
My first thought is to just come out and say "why did you get accused of murder?" Because I want him to burst out laughing and tell me that it's a load of shit. Only, if it's true then I risk putting myself in danger. What if I'm supposed to be his next victim?
"Sofia are you sure you're okay?" He asks, looking at me with a concerned expression on his face. That's probably because I haven't said a word since hanging up the phone and I'm kinda frozen stiff.
Think! How do I get out of this?! I just need to get away from him until I can work out what the hell is going on?
"I don't feel very well" is the best thing I can come up with. The words fly from my mouth uneven and pathetic. It's not totally a lie though because I'm feeling sicker by the second. If this was a murder mystery, I'd be fucking dead that's for sure.
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" He asks, his hand resting over my forehead. "You are rather hot, I'll go get you some water" he says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Really? How is this guy a murderer, he's so sweet? And my god I don't wanna believe it.
But what if this is part of his thing? Make me like him and get close to me so that the killing part will be more enjoyable.
Glancing down at my phone, I fumble to open the link that has the words 'accused of murder' in it and wait nervously as it loads. All that I can take in once it pops up is one simple sentence:
'Multimillionaire Patrick Stump Kills Lover in Penthouse Apartment'
His lover. Well shit that definitely makes me more of a target huh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
My ears ring as a feeling of dizziness overcomes me but I can make out the sound of his footsteps coming back. Okay, not good.
"I'll go to the store and get you some painkillers or something Darling. What exactly do you think is wrong?" He says softly, appearing in front of me again. Fight or flight???
"I'm going to be sick" I exclaim and jump off the bed, dodging around him and sprinting into the bathroom. I slam the door shut behind me and lock it with an adrenaline endorsed fear. I actually do feel the bile rising in my throat but I take a deep breath and lean against the cold tile to try and collect my thoughts.
"Are you okay? I'm sorry I'm so shitty in these situations but I wanna help Darling" he calls through the door. I wonder why he's so shitty? Maybe because trying to make people feel better is the opposite of his strong points?
"Um it's okay, maybe you should just go because I don't think I'll be up for much at all today" I push out, my voice wobbly. I don't think he will notice though considering there's a door between us.
I begin typing a message to Annabelle, my fingers shaking.
Sofia: What do I do? How am I supposed to get away from him? I'm stuck in the bathroom and he won't leave!
I hit send quickly and I can hear him trying to comfort me. What a good act.
Then my blood runs cold as I hear Patrick's text tone over his voice. Looking at my phone in horror, I realise my mistake. I've sent him the text by accident! Annabelle and Patrick are the two people I've texted recently so it's an easy mistake right...right!!!
"No!" I whisper under my breath with the power of a yell. I wanna scream the place down because of my own stupidly. If he kills me then good for him because I'm a fucking idiot!
"Sofia? What's going on?" I hear him say and keep well back from the door. Oopsy. I've fucked up royally.
I should call the police. Why haven't I done that yet already?
"Why are you afraid of me? Please Sofia, open the door Darling"
"You need to leave! Please, I saw the article. I know what you did. I know about Nadia too! What the hell is wrong with you?!" I yell, a little too confident for someone who could be stabbed any second. Or strangled. I wonder what his thing is?
"Fuck! I knew I should have told you about that earlier. I didn't kill anyone Sofia and I have no idea what you mean about Nadia! I promise you"
Of course he'd say that. He wants me out of here so he can end me violently.
"Please just go. I'm scared" I confess, hoping that this might help. I'm not sure why, surely he won't care if he's a psychopath.
"You don't need to be scared. I would never hurt you"
"That's what a murderer would say"
"If I were going to kill you, don't you think I'd have done it by now?"
"I don't know. I'm not a fellow psychopath. Not too sure how you guys think"
"I'm not a psychopath. Maybe I'm a little crazy but I'm no psycho. Just come out and I'll tell you everything that happened. I'm not doing it through a damn door"
"No! I don't want to hear it! Go!"
"Sofia!" He growls, his frustration growing. "Open the door! This is ridiculous! If I had my hands on you right now the only thing I'd be doing is spanking that ass! Which I think you'd probably like!"
Is he fucking serious?!
"Get out!" I try again and this time when he speaks is clear that he's realising how serious I am.
"Come on Darling. Don't do this. I'm not a threat to you. I just want to look after you"
"Please go Patrick. If you care about me at all you'll go" I beg and silence falls. Seconds pass and I can't help but press my ear to the door to try and work out what's going on.
I can actually hear him breathing. The rhythm the same as mine as I try to calm down.
"Okay, I'll go. If that's what you want. Promise me something though. Do some more research. You'll realise that I didn't do what you think I did. I hope you work it out soon too because I don't fancy the thought of not seeing you for any length of time. Sofia, I need you"
And I need you...shitttt. It's true.
Oh boy. There it is. The reason that I haven't called the police. The reason why, even though I'm filled with fear, I'm also still consumed with yearning for him. It's also why I let him in last night. Because I've never needed anyone the way I need him. He's like the X to my Y. CSS to my HTML. Ying to my Yang. You get the point.
It's the strangest thing.
"See you soon Sofia" he says finally, the defeat heavy in his voice. I squash my ear to the door to hear him collecting his things and the sound of his footsteps retreating.
Through the fear and terror, my heart beats wildly as if it's punishing me for what I've just done. As if it's trying to escape my chest to follow him.
Unfortunately that doesn't change the articles on my phone. It's still bright and glaring at me. Was I sleeping with a murderer? Or have I made a huge mistake?
All I can do is try to find out...
Patrick's POV
It's only after I left Sofia that I saw the email from my lawyer about Nadia. I've been so caught up in Sofia that I've hardly been checking anything, especially not my mundane emails.
Back at my apartment I'm lying on the couch where Sofia and I made love, with my phone in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.
Why can't I catch a break? Why does the world have to keep fucking me over? I don't blame Sofia for wanting me gone. I'd be scared too if I found out the news that she did today. Only it's fake news and I really hope she realises it.
I'm not letting myself think of this as the end of us. She's too clever to think it's true once she actually looks into things.
I wish she didn't believe it in the first place but I know how convincing those articles are. Plus she has no reason to think it's fake. Maybe I am the monster everyone thinks I am.
She's different though. She sees through the bullshit. She sees me.
Closing my eyes, I try to fight the urge to call her. I want her to have a clear mind and come to her own conclusion.
Dropping my phone to the floor, my mind wanders to the dreadful night that warranted all the tabloid mess.
It was the worst night of my life. I'd been working into the early hours of the morning. I was the only one in the office and it was about 3am by the time I actually got home. I'd walked into my apartment to see her on the floor. Dead. I didn't know her well but that didn't stop me feeling sick at the sight of her body.
I didn't know what to do. I had stood there frozen for god knows how long, my mind trying to comprehend how it had happened. How was she dead on my floor?
Upon closer expression, the needle stuck in her arm was a huge give away. Now why the fuck was she in my apartment. That question was a little harder to work out.
The women had been my Sugary Sweet for a mere two days and I had sent my standard payment for the night we spent together. I recall thinking that she certainly seemed more desperate for the money than the others. I mean they at least tried to pretend that they gave a shit. She didn't. She'd asked me for it right after the sex and I'd complied, rolled over and went to sleep while she left.
The police investigation didn't take long but with the news of her death getting out and the sight of the officers leaving my building, the tabloids went mad.
It turns out she'd found the passcode to my elevator during her night with me and had come back to demand more cash. The video feed from the elevator confirms her entering my place but considering I had no other CCTV, there wasn't a clear view of what happened after that. Hence the suspicion from the press that could have gotten me arrested.
It's safe to say I'm more carful when entering my passcode now and I've got cameras in most places in my apartment.
The police came to the conclusion that she'd shot up and passed out. I guess I was too indifferent to even notice she was a drug addict. Because I'm a selfish prick and if I'd paid more attention then maybe I'd have been able to save her life.
Shaking my head, I pull myself up and drag my ass upstairs to my bedroom. I haven't even made my bed since Sofia was in it last and I really wish she was here now, wrapped in my black silk sheets.
Pulling off my clothes and dumping them on the floor, I make my way to the shower. Hopefully blasting myself with pipping hot water will make me feel better.
It's crazy that a week ago I would be working right now. Sad and lonely with no hope of escaping my dreadful life. Now I'm sad and lonely in a new kind of way. Plus my work couldn't be father from my mind.
The only productive thing I've done since leaving Sofia's apartment was actually call my lawyer to tell him to deal with the Nadia thing. I'm not even going to bother looking into what she's said about me. All he told me in the email is that she's accused me of assault. What a load of shit. I should be the one filing a sexual harassment complaint.
Steaming water pours over my body as I drag my fingers through my wet hair. Right now all I'm hoping for is a phone call from my Sugary Sweet. I want to hear that she knows I didn't kill anyone, that she wants to see me.
Today started off so bright. I was going to take her away for the day. Maybe a quick flight someone. Anywhere that she wanted to go in fact. Alas, here I am staring at my own reflection in the glass shower wall. I look like shit.
I wonder what she's doing. Erasing me from her life for real this time? Or researching like I suggested?
The worst part of all of this is I know that I'm bad for her. I know that in the end I'll only disappoint her but I can't for the life of me stay away.
I'll give her some time and then I'll go to her to try and explain. I don't know how long I'll be able to give her though, I'm addicted.
I can't let go. She's my Princess.
Sofia's POV
The email about the job stated that I could start on Monday. Which is tomorrow. Until then I plan to stay wrapped up like burrito in my bed while fighting back tears and confusion.
I could pretend that I'm okay. I could move on and let the past week disappear into my mind like a distant memory or a dream. Only I know that I won't be able to do that. Curiosity is what got me here and it's the same emotion that has me Googling Patrick's name at eleven pm on the same day I made him leave.
Maybe I shouldn't be listening to a possible murdering psychopath but if I owe him anything it's doing some proper looking into it. I'm not one to jump to conclusions but today I was faced with a situation that scared the shit out of me. I had to make him leave.
But clearly I'm a psycho myself because his absence has left me feeling empty. He hasn't tried to contact me and I'm not sure if I'm grateful about that or not. I mean what the hell do I expect from him? I'm not sure.
The first article says much the same as the one Annabelle sent me. A young women found dead in his apartment. Which is really no good to me.
In fact that's all the information lots of them give. Some say she was a random women, while others say she was his former lover. None of them mention the Sugar Daddy website which is possibly because she wasn't anything to do with that.
A lot of the articles mention that he was found innocent but they also speculate that his wealth had everything to do with that. These blogs and news reports don't offer much insight. Nor do they offer evidence.
Which is why I find myself paying for a public police report. Yup I'm that desperate to know what the hell happened. The voice in my head is saying 'well you should have just asked him you stupid bitch' but I punch her out and keep going. There's not much I can do about it know. I've acted the way I have and that's it.
The report is dated a year and two months ago. The 15th Of June 2018. The first thing on the page is a picture of Patrick walking into the police station, his head hanging with very obvious sadness. I can feel sympathy rising in me but I stop it and continue.
After the photo is a brief explanation. Yet it still gives me more information than the shitty tabloids.
'A young women named Bethany Greyson was found dead in CEO Multimillionaire Patrick Stump's pent house apartment. So far it seems the pair had a recent one night stand but that's all of the information we currently have on the connection between them'
Another part further down the report mentions drug use but doesn't say how it fits into the crime scene. How does that even make sense?
There's a lot of information that I've already seen but there's also something new.
'Patrick Stump currently has no alibi"
That's doesn't make me feel good but this also suggests that this report hasn't been updated with the final outcome. Useless!
Throwing my phone down I cover my face and scream...and scream...then scream some more.
I do so until my throat hurts and sadness plus frustration mingle in a way that has me passing out in bed.
Too much...it's all too much! I don't even have the energy to look into Nadia Zoya's claims.
***
I'm actually surprised that I make it out of bed and to the coffee shop on time. Considering I had woken up feeling emotionally drained and very much like a zombie, it's actually a miracle.
Another miracle is that I'm able to take in anything that the manager is saying. I met him about five minutes ago and in those five minutes, he's thrown an apron at me and made three different coffees. Three!
He's a tall balding man with a very funny moustache and I can't lie, I've been staring at it way more than the coffees. It's just very distracting. Which isn't totally a bad thing because it gives me a break from being consumed by thoughts of a certain Sugar Daddy.
"You with me so far?" I hear and nod quickly to show that I am in fact still on the same planet. Doesn't really feel like it though. I didn't sleep well and I think my sore head is now a migraine. Fantastic! First day at work and I'm not exactly in top form.
After half an hour of him firing out different drinks, he hands me over to another women that works here. She's lovely and obviously sees my tired state. She basically has to show me everything all over again but she's very patient with me.
Her name is Willow and she smiles a lot. Like a lot. It's nice though since I can't get my own face to do the same today.
I spill a jug of water, I burn myself on the fancy machine and even blow some steam in my eye. Here's some advice: don't ever do that. It hurts.
I keep looking at Willow nervously as I make mistake after mistake but her repeated response is: "You're doing great Sweetie"
She's a liar but I still like her. I think she's a few years old than me. Maybe just turned thirty. She has wise knowledgeable eyes. Ones that have seen and experienced more life than I have. Not much more but...more.
I kinda want to ask her if she knows how to deal with the situation that I'm currently dealing with.
"Hey Willow do you have any idea how to deal with falling uncontrollably for a possible murderer? He's super hot and sweet and I'm going insane"
Nah I don't think I'll say that out loud!
She does ask about me while we're on our break though. We sit in the brown leather booths, our coffees on white tables. If I'm honest I'm not a fan of the decor in here. It's not as modern as it should be. Too many dark colours and mismatched furniture.
I tell Willow about what I studied because it's the only thing that I deem worth telling anyone. I'm like a broken down record in that sense. I just haven't achieved anything better.
She asks if I'm single too and for a second I think she's hitting on me. Scratch that, she's definitely hitting on me. Well shit, I'm a catch these days.
Unfortunately I have to tell her that 'it's complicated'. Boy that's an understatement!
"Guy or girl?" She asks sipping her coffee with a smirk on her face.
"A guy" I reply and she laughs.
"Well then that's your problem" she jokes. Yup, I like this women. I think we're going to get along great which makes me so fucking happy. I was terrified that no one would like me here. It's like the first day of school all over again but now I feel a lot more relaxed.
Of course I'm never going to be totally at peace. Not when I start to wonder what kind of coffee Patrick would drink.
Which is literally what I try to work out for the rest of my shift while I get the hang of the cappuccino machine.
When I get home, my feet ache and so does my head. The feet are because of all the running around and my head is because my brain won't stop working overtime thinking about Patrick.
Once I close the door my foot kicks something on the floor. I look down to find a rectangle box that certainly wasn't there before. It must have been posted through my mail box. What do we have here?
I don't even bother sitting down before I open it. In case you can't tell by now I'm a very curious person and there's no way I was gonna wait a whole extra ten seconds.
The first thing I see is a note with slightly messy handwriting. I'm confused at first but then I see the name signed at the bottom and my heart thuds in my chest.
'Congratulations on your new job! You're going to do great. Please accept this gift. You deserve so much more but I thought this was a nice way to motivate you to keep going. You're going to achieve your dreams... I know you will. Good Luck Princess! Patrick xxx'
God damn it! Why did he have to get accused of murder? I wish I could just brush over that fact and let myself feel just how much this means to me. I haven't even seen the gift yet but the note already has tears in my eyes. Why? Because no one has even written such a nice note to me. It really does show that you can know someone for years and never find a connection. Yet here I am one week in and Patrick has flipped my whole life on its head. Good or bad I can't deny that he's made things more interesting.
Finally I look at the gift in the box. It's a silver necklace. Pulling it out, I let it dangle from my finger and happy tears roll down my face.
The pendant is a </ from html code and I'm pretty sure this would have needed to be custom made. Holy fuck!
I so badly want to wear it but how can I when I'll only feel like a fraud. This is so meaningful and definitely expensive.
Although it probably didn't cost much in his opinion. I hate the thought that he actually is a psychopath and this is one of the things he does to get a kick out of his victims. Of course it's possible but that would only hurt like hell.
Because he's put so much effort into it.
I spend an unhealthy amount of time staring at the necklace. Watching it dangle from my fingers and spin a little. It's so beautiful.
Maybe I should put the note in the bin and hide this in a drawer but instead I shove the note in my purse and fall asleep clutching the necklace to my chest.
Oh yeah...I'm totally fucked up!
***
On day three of my job the machine buzzes and whirls, making noises that are definitely going to make my head ache worse. Oh yeah it's still present. Kinda worrying at this point actually.
I'm like a robot right now because most people order the same thing and this just isn't rocket science anymore. It's safe to say I've picked everything up at lightening speed and the repetition is testing my sanity. Still at least I'm going to earn some money now.
My mind wanders to Patrick because he's all I think about. It's pretty easy to fall into a fantasy when the job I'm doing doesn't take much out of me.
I glance up, hand the guy his coffee, smile and watch him walk away. Then I go back to cleaning the machine like I was before.
Does Patrick miss me? Or has he given up because of my shitty reaction? Or...is he a murderer and pissed off that I got away?
Its either the first one or the last one because when I look up from my cleaning duties, the next customer is the man that I'm obsessing over. Jesus Fucking Christ! Be still my beating heart...literally. Have my eyes popped out of my head? Am I still breathing? Fuck! Fuck! Fuckkkk! Oh god I miss him! The sleepless nights give that away for sure. Maybe it's been the same for him. His eyes look a little tired.
"Sofia" he says softly in greeting. His voice swirls into my ears soft and warm, pulling me into a false sense of security. Today he's wearing a white shirt with a navy sweater vest on top, some dress pants and those glasses that do things to me. Which he probably wore on purpose.
I have visions of pulling him over the counter to kiss his soft lips. I wanna feel his beard scratching my skin but I snap out of it quickly.
"What can I get you Sir?" I ask flatly. His lips pull up into a small smile while I keep my face straight. He's not going to get to me.
"Maybe just a moment of your time would be good" he replies softly.
"I'm sorry we don't serve that here" I retort and he frowns deeply as if he's trying to think of something to say.
"Well how about black coffee then" is what he comes out with and I'm fine with that. Plus now I know what he drinks...what a relief to my wondering mind. Seriously, I'm not even joking it's been driving me insane.
As I pour the piping hot drink into the cup, I can feel him watching me. It makes me tingle in a weird way.
"Here you go. That'll be $1.50" I state and watch as pulls out a $10 bill.
"Keep the change Darling" he replies and for some reason this really irks me. Maybe he's just being nice but I don't like it.
"You can't buy me Patrick" I snap as quietly as possible so I don't draw attention to myself. He looks momentarily hurt but my words before he composes himself.
"I know that. I was just tipping you" he says, his mouth falling into a straight line of annoyance.
"It's a bit much don't you think"
"No, I don't think it is. Nothing is too much for you"
"Stop it! Why are you here?"
"To see you of course. I would have thought by now that you'd have realised the truth"
"I done the research you asked but I'm no further forward. I still don't know what to believe" I explain and stick out my hand with the cup in it. He reaches out to take it but covers my hand with his purposely, his fingers caressing my knuckles.
"Then let me explain" he says softer now.
"There's a queue forming Patrick. You need to go"
"Let me take you out after work"
"Go..."
"Fine! But I'm not giving up! You'll have to talk to me eventually. I don't know why you're being so stubborn"
That's the last thing he says before he walks away. I watch his retreating form and ask myself that question. Why am I being so stubborn? The answer is, I don't want to get hurt. Not emotionally or psychically and with the way he affects me, I know it's definitely possible.
Maybe that's why I'm telling myself I'm so scared.
"Um Mam..." the next person in line cuts through my thoughts and I blink back to the here and now. I can't think about this here.
What I do know is I wish he were still standing in front of me. Arguing with him is still communicating and that two minute conversation has set me on fire.
***
Patrick wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't give up. He came to the shop every day after that. The same time too. About noon he comes in, orders a coffee and tries to talk to me. When I say no he sits in a booth and waits to see if I'll change my mind.
So far it's been a week of that and everyday it's been getting harder. Today though, there's no way I can ignore him.
I had to take my break early because the my boss began arguing with another member of staff in the back. I witnessed the shouting and felt the fearful feeling rise within me again. Just like always. I'm not freaking out this time but I have removed myself from the situation so that no one else needs to find out about my pathetic fear of angry men.
So when Patrick arrives right on time, he looks very confused for a second. Then he sees me and skips the coffee, opting to come right over here. He's all suited up today. He must have lots of meetings. Hot motherfucker.
"Are you okay?" He asks as soon as he gets to the booth. He slides in opposite me while I stare at the coffee mug in front of me. If I wasn't being so annoying then I'd be able to take comfort from him but alas I'm weird.
"Yeah. Just a little bit too much anger going on in the back" is all I have to say before he understands.
"Was it aimed at you?" He asks, his own anger creeping into his voice. It doesn't seem to bother me though. How strange. It's also rather nice that he wants to protect me. But does he?
"No" I tell him and catch his hand moving over the table next to mine. He hesitates for a second before deciding that he's going to take the chance. He links our fingers and I let him because I'm a selfish fucking bitch. Okay! I really am and I just can't take it anymore! I don't want to be this way. I want him back but I'm now too embarrassed and ashamed to admit it. Fucking stupid whore!
"Darling, when are we going to stop this little game? Do you still think I'm a crazy murderer?"
"I don't know Patrick. Maybe you are. I'm too scared to be alone with you to find out"
It's not technically a lie. I'm worried that if I give in to what I really feel then I'll be wrong and put myself at risk. I don't know what to do.
"Do you have any idea how much that hurts me Sofia?" He asks and my eyes snap to his. Damn it! I never wanted to hurt him, I really didn't.
"I'm sorry Patrick. I just don't know what to do! I'm trying my best to make sense of everything but it's not easy to trust someone who has accusations of murder on their name"
"But I didn't do it Sofia! I thought you of all people would believe me. I thought we had something"
"I don't know what we have okay!"
Liar! Fucking stupid lying bitch! I'm a coward and I know it!
I get up and leave him there because any longer and I might just flip a table.
What I don't expect is Patrick to stay exactly where he is. He sits in that booth for hours as I work, giving me longing glances with puppy dog eyes. I kinda have the urge to go over and pat his head. And maybe kiss him a little and- NO!
My boss asks me to lock up the shop and one by one, everyone leaves. There's no staff but me and I expected to find Patrick gone the next time I looked up after closing the register but nope, he's still there. Now we're alone. Fuck!
"I'm closing up the shop, you need to leave" I tell him, trying to look him in the eye. Only I can't because that'll only make me fall under his dangerous spell.
"I just want to talk to you properly. I want to explain everything" he says, getting up and approaching the counter.
"I'm busy Patrick" I bluff and begin to walk away through the staff door to the back. This is where all the stock is and also where I exit once it's all closed up.
I expect him not to follow me but I should really have known better.
"Sofia, why won't you speak to me? Tell me the truth?!" He asks and I whip around to glare at him.
"I told you the truth! You scare the shit out of me! Which by the way isn't helped by you stalking me in here when no one else is around" I yell. The air crackles around us just like always and I curse the world for making me feel this way. Why do I miss him? Why do I want him when he could be so very dangerous?
He rocks back on his heels, staring at me after my outburst. He looks so very hurt by what I've said and I feel bad again. Seconds later his expression changes, a smile forming and it makes me wonder if he really is just a little bit crazy.
"What is it you think I'm going to do? Murder you right here? Tell me...what do you think I'm capable of?" He asks, his tone slightly menacing. Weirdly enough, I think I like it. What the FUCK is wrong with me? I need to go to a therapist.
"I don't know. Maybe you like to mess with your victims first..."
"Ah yes, that definitely seems like something I'd do" he continues. I know he's teasing me now, trying to get a reaction out of me for some reason. He's enjoying this.
"You're having fun aren't you?" I ask bitterly and he nods enthusiastically.
"Yes, I fucking loving it Sofia. You know why? Because this is the most we've talked in days. Not to mention I feel so much better knowing that you really aren't scared of me. Because if you were, you would have ran away by now. You'd be screaming the place down. But no, you're right here feeding off of me"
Am I annoyed that he's technically right? You bet your ass. Will I admit it? Over my dead body! Maybe literally...
"You're wrong" I breath and watch completely frozen as he steps towards me. Just one step.
"Am I?" Another step. My heart rate accelerates and I'd love to prove him wrong by saying that it's because of fear but it's really not.
"What are you doing?" I ask, unable to move. He's close enough to touch. I can smell his gorgeous scent but I want to snap out of it. This could be bad.
"Murdering you apparently but how will I bring you to your end hmmm?" He ponders, raising his hand. His fingers brush over my cheek and I close my eyes instinctively. They trail down my neck and I don't know what the hell to do. "I think you know the truth Darling. We're very in tune with each other...you know I wouldn't ever hurt you"
"How can I know that? Whatever is between us, it's purely sexual" I blurt out because he's stoking something inside me. Something darker than I'm used to. I want to see his emotions. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing but it feels good. So very exciting. I want him to prove me wrong. I want him to show me what I already know. What he's already shown me over and over. This isn't just sex. Even the first time we fucked it was so much more and I need that right now.
"Is that so? If it's sex you want my love then sex you will have. I told you before I'll take you in anyway I can have you. So can I have you?" he growls, his voice rough with the emotion I so desperately want. I open my eyes just in time to see the passion in his. It's beautiful.
"Why don't you find out?" I tease, begging him to take action. DEAR GOD SOFIA MAKE UP YOUR MIND!
The next thing I know he's backing me into the nearest cabinet, my back making a soft thudding noise as it makes contact. He traps me against it, one of his thighs moving between mine to part my legs. Ah shit! The gasp that comes from me is once again not one of fear and it's over for me. I want him so bad. Honestly he can kill me if he likes, I'm not sure I'd care.
"Tell me to stop Sofia. Tell me and I'll never touch you again I promise" he whispers in my ear, his hands trailing down my body. His fingers tease the button and zipper on my jeans.
My hands flies up to grip his shoulders, keeping him there. I open my mouth to try and yell at him again because I don't want to give in so easy.
"Don't...don't stop!" Is actually what comes out. Well shit!
"You're mine Darling...all mine" he moans and with that he yanks down my jeans and panties, his fingers sliding over my clit in seconds.
He watches as he touches me, his face alight with lust. I writhe and moan against him. My logical thinking tries to fight through against my wild heart but it's never going to win. Of course this isn't just sexual. I know it. He knows it.
"You're so wet for me Sofia. You don't fear me Darling...no fear" he mumbles as if he's telling himself. The thought that I'm afraid of him really has cut deep and even though I still don't know the full story, I feel guilty.
I doesn't last long because soon he's sliding his fingers inside me. His lips devouring mine. Fuck I've missed his mouth. So gentle and rough all at once.
I'm being finger banged by my quite possibly insane Sugar Daddy lover/guy I can't stop wanting, in the back of the coffee shop I just started working for. That's a sentence I never thought I'd use to describe my life.
This is the most crazed I think I've ever been. Yanking at his clothes like I'm some kind of animal. My only success is having him almost shirtless but he helps with his trousers, shoving them down.
I'm stroking his dick and he's swearing in my ear, his fingers curling inside me. Should this be happening right now? Probably not and certainly not here but I don't think we can stop now.
The statement 'I'm a slut for this man' have never been truer. I was just accusing him of being a murderer, now I'm sinking to my knees to suck him off. Oh yeah, I've wanted to do this for a while.
"Fuck Sofia!" He growls as I lick the tip. The shock in his voice is actually a huge turn on as well as his fingers wrapping in my hair. When I look up at him he's watching me and I can't help but smirk before slowly letting his cock push into my mouth.
Which one of us has more of the control right now? It's hard to tell. My mouth controls his moans and his desperation but he controls the rhythm, holding my hair back so he can watch.
He's such a powerful man and maybe I like that more than I want to admit. It's not to do with the money or status it's just something that flows from him as a person. So fucking sexy.
"Oh Darling, that mouth of yours is more dangerous than I could ever be" he groans, his hips rocking harder. There's the answer. I have the control but do I want him to cum down my throat or else where?
Reaching up, I cup his balls and the noise that comes from him is so guttural, making me wetter than I already am. I think I know what I want now.
Releasing his cock from my mouth, I lick my lips and look up at him. He breathes deeply, his chest rising and falling with the effort.
"You little tease" he smirks, his fingers soothing the place where he gripped my hair.
"Well I'll do anything to get you to fuck me" I reply. He's grabbing me in seconds, helping me from the floor and lifting me off my feet.
I wrap my legs around his waist and he's pushing inside of me like there's no tomorrow.
He's fucking me against the stock shelves and if I was thinking straight I'd realise how much of a bad idea this is. So is me gripping one of the shelves and causing a case of coffee beans to smash and fall over the floor.
It would have been wise for us to stop then but I guess this just feels far too good.
I'm holding him to me with a death grip, hoping that this marks the end of all the bullshit. I made the mistake of believing tabloids. That won't happen again. He's no murderer.
He makes me cum like a nuclear bomb going off because he knows my body better than I do but more importantly he makes me feel complete. Yuck...who do I think I am? Oh fuck it...it's true okay, I've never felt so whole! This is where I'm meant to be.
He cums inside me, his lips still moulded to mine, his hands becoming more gentle and sweet. Soothing me as I catch my breath.
He leans his forehead on mine, his eyes sparkling with happiness. I guess the thing that he's dangerous to is my heart.
I want to hear the full story so that I know all the details and most importantly the truth. However, whatever he tells me won't change how I feel. I mean it never really changed a thing anyway. It just exposed my cowardice. Which I'm working on.
What is it that I feel for him? Of course it's more than lust. We've admitted that there's something between us. But what is that something? We're still classing him as my Sugar Daddy but I'm not sure if that's all he wants to be or if that's all I want him to be either.
I'm so confused. Yet I have a never ending sense of clarity at the same time. The answer to my problems is in my arms. Any and all of my problems. He makes it all okay. No amount of money could match this feeling.
Once I've got my bearings again I'm able to take in the mess we've made. Oops! My eyes latch onto the smashed coffee case and then a horrifying realisation hits me.
There are cameras in here. Recording everything that happens...as in there are cameras that have just recorded us fucking in the stock room.
Uh oh!