I thought we're gonna have some kind of angry sex -I love that shit but the only memory I have is the one in New York, when I discovered for the first time ever he’s hard without having me making any effort- and there he is, taking his own sweet time wiping the liquid mess with a small kitchen cloth with no hint of angry sex.
Or any sex in that matter.
I march to the bedroom as I curse him for being so calm about it, for obeying what I wanted without a fight. Can't he say something like I will not apologise for what I did because I want to show you to the world. I want to show the world my world.
Me, I’m supposed to be his world.
But noooo, he's gotta do the boring shit, to just say yes and deleted the whole thing, even apologised for it!
Yes I'm fickle minded so what. I'm toxic like that. I want people to challenge me all the time but I also want them to bend to my requests. Can't he be both instead of a boring, yes-all-the-time piece of dick?
I was working on my project when he enters the room twenty minutes later, but I don't shift my gaze as I keep my focus on the screen of my laptop.
Though I can see from the corner of my eyes he's walking to the walk in closet that has a connecting door to the bathroom. Based on our routine last week, I guess he's taking a shower before bed.
I'm right because half an hour later he nears the bed smelling soooo good when I'm already lying there. I did check the time before I switched off the light, it's already 2.30 in the morning, so I only have four hours to sleep before leaving for my first class tomorrow.
I feel his cold hand touches my skin before a whisper breaks the silence, "Goodnight, Precious."
He kisses the nape of my neck, taking advantage of my sleeping position. Then he wraps his left arm around my middle, pulling me close to his body. I unconsciously smile with my heart beginning to feel full from his attention. I love how we'd always cuddle when we're in bed.
"I mean what I said Owen." I mutter with his arm still around my body, cuddling me, spooning me.
It sounds like a warning but to be honest, it’s just my way of telling him I’m wide awake over here, ready to be ravished, to be disciplined for being a bratty sugar baby.
"I won't do it again." He places his palm on my sex, pulling me to his hardness.
I'm good with manuals, so I do as we agreed which is to be naked every single night I’m here. But he's obviously not following his own rule, because I can feel the cotton material behind me, a thin piece of cloth forbidding him from entering me.
"Social media is a hard limit, " I let out a stern voice despite his lips kissing my bare shoulder, "Anything public is hard limit." Put me in my place. Tell me you don’t care about my limit.
He hums as he circles his fingers lazily on my clit while kissing me along my spine.
"I have an early class tomorrow." I let him know when he's already parking his head in between my legs. Well that, is actually a hint for him to be quick with whatever he has his mind on. I’m definitely onboard, just be done in less than an hour so I can get my brainy sleep. It would be hell to understand tomorrow’s 8am lecture if I sleep less than three hours.
Oh shit, did I sound like I don’t want to?
With a sound of acknowledging what I said, he then does the opposite of my worries when he darts his hot tongue on me. Thank God.
I love how he’d always edge me a few times before finally gives in, I love it because then I'd have a massive, explosive orgasm that can last me through the whole day until our next meeting.
"You have an early class tomorrow." He announces then rolls to his side of the bed while I'm still gripping the sheet; I was so fucking ready for the explosion. He’s been edging me like a million times. I’m so fucking close, I just need one last lick before that volcanic eruption.
"Good night, Precious." He pecks on my lips then turns around, facing the other side as if he's ready to go to sleep.
…is this his way of protesting?
I have 8 a.m. class on Thursdays so when the alarm wakes me up at 6.30 -since I'm a breakfast person so I purposely set 30 minutes for cooking and eating- I jump off the bed and steal one of his shirts in the closet before setting my feet at the kitchen.
Omelette, bacon and sausage; my forever to go to breakfast. I even learned how to cook the perfect omelette from Owen since I loved his version so much.
On the days I was here last week, Owen would always wake up first. Mainly because I have afternoon class on Friday so we would go out of the house together. I love breakfasts but I'm definitely not a morning person so 10am is my definition of morning.
Though today, Owen sleeps in. Perhaps his day starts at 7 something, because around that time he comes out with his sexy bed hair, wearing just pyjama bottom and shirtless abs.
"Good morning," I chirp to him despite our little fight last night. He has already promised not to do it, and it's a total misunderstanding so I should let it slide.
"Morning, Princessa." He kisses my lips briefly then takes the seat next to mine.
"I have a class in less than an hour, do you mind sending me to the uni?" Either he wants to be a sweetheart or not, I'm gonna make him send me there because there's a big possibility I won't be able to get there on time if I have to wait for the bus, the tube, or even the Uber. I haven't even showered yet.
"Somebody could see us." He replies without looking at me, too busy stabbing the sausage.
"Are you getting back at me?"
"You were mad when I picked you up at your office last year."
"I'm sure nobody will notice if you just drop me. It's not like you're sending me to the class, just the university entrance."
He finally turns to look at me, but doesn't utter a word. He munches whatever is in his mouth in a slow movement, while watches me.
The way he just waits for my reaction somehow boils my blood. So I push the dining chair to the back and stand straight, "Just tell me no if you don't want to. I'm perfectly fine with going there myself."
I storm off to the bedroom, straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I don't have time for shower since my sugar daddy refuses to send me.
"I’m trying to do what you want me to do, Elle.” He says it the moment I come out of the bathroom. Elle? Someone’s serious.
“I don’t have time for another argument with you.” I mutter as I fix my top, keeping my eyes on the mirror deciding if I should make a ponytail or a messy bun on top of my head.
“We’ll continue in the car then.”
“My Uber will be here in three minutes.”
“Cancel it, I’ll send you,” he stands next to me as I twist my hair into a bun. I look at him from the reflection on the mirror; he’s still in his pyjama bottom with no shirt. He clearly just wants to talk when he comes in here, with no intention to send me to the uni.
“Wouldn’t want anyone to know I have a sugar daddy.” I purposely roll my eyes to the mirror which I know he catches it.
“Bye Daddy,” is all I say before I leave his place.