Chapter 8: Dirty Little Secret
Why did my life suddenly turn into a horror soap opera with a horrible script writing? First, it was Ethan at the sidewalk outside my house and now we were both stuck inside a classroom, waiting for Ghost Face to pop up with a saw.
But…
The door opened to reveal a handsome hunk whom I had never seen before.
“Dylan?” Ethan sounded both surprised and irritated.
“Ethan, mate! How have you been?” Dylan said in a British accent as he came over and the boys did their man-hug completed with the typical backslapping.
Was I hallucinating or did their slaps look a bit harder than normal?
“Oh? I hope I’m not interrupting your class. I heard the bell ring twenty minutes ago.” Dylan said, breaking away from Ethan.
We were having table foreplay for twenty minutes? Wow! Time does fly.
Dylan, just like Ethan, was another piece of hot molten Choco lava cake. With his dark brown almost black hair and baby blue eyes, he was perfect model material. I bet Ethan and him were both carved from the same gigolo stone.
“And who might you be?” He asked eyeing me up. Somehow I didn't like the guy so much anymore.
“I would be ‘none of your businesses!” I said with a big smile plastered on my face.
“Feisty, eh?” he gave me a smirk and a wink. “I’m loving it. Nice catch, Ethan.”
“What catch? She’s just another student of mine, pestering me for more info and grades.” Ethan's voice was so cold and emotionless that it threw me off guard. I tried my level best not to let it show on my face.
Seeing him right now, I… hell, nobody would be able to tell that he nearly brought me to another orgasm just a few minutes ago.
“Hey, man, no need to be rude,” Dylan said, frowning at Ethan.
“Well then…” I said, hoisting my bag over my right shoulder, teeth gritted,“…you two chitchat while I head home.”
I didn’t look to see what Ethan’s expression was but I did stop in front of the class door just for dramatic effect. “Oh, Mr. Whitmore, please do prepare a note for me on nuclear fission. The book doesn’t give a clear description regarding the reactor and the heat reduction mechanism.”
With that I was out of the door and running back to my house, far, far away from this hell hole.
It was nearly 6o’ clock in the afternoon but I couldn’t be bothered with homework. I had a deadline to catch up on.
I came home at around 4p.m.then took a cold shower to cool down my anger and changed into a white tank top and pink shorts. I ate some leftover homemade pizza, which Eva had left for me before going off to the hospital. If there was one thing Eva was extremely good at, it would be cooking. She should change professions. She was a better cook than doctor.
And now I was sitting in front of my laptop, typing away the second to the last chapter of my story. I had an awesome ending in my mind. Thanks to the little experience that Ethan had managed to give me before Mr. Choco Lava Cake appeared. Why I kept calling him that, I had no idea.
At least something productive came out of this afternoon.
“I can't hold back today, Emilia! Not when I came this close to losing you!”
Emilia looked up at her lover, her life, with half-lidded eyes, mind still blank from the intensity of their kiss. She could do anything for her love, her Roman. Even if it meant taking his death upon herself.
“I don't care, Roman! Hold me close, hold me tight. Hold me like no man has ever held a woman! I want to feel you close. Closer than ever!” Emilia whispered to her love, shame no longer a boundary between them.
“Yes. Yes, I will! Submit to me, my love! Let me take you to places you've never been before! Let me show you how boundless my love for you is,” Roman said, discarding both his clothes and hers, the city lights the only source of illumination in the tiny motel room.
But they didn't care about the motel room, neither did they care about the rusty bed or paint-stripped walls. All they needed was each other and their love.
I put down my pen and went over the page one more time to correct any mistakes. I bit my lips as I concentrated on proofreading.
Nearly done, only the final sex scene and it was going to be a master piece!
“I want to bite that lip, Miss Sanders.”
“Quoting Christian Grey doesn’t make you any less creepy, Mr. Whitmore”.
Of course I knew when he came into my room. Sounds of broken branches weren’t that unnoticeable. And now, our gardener would have a lot of cleaning to do tomorrow while wondering how on earth fall came early. Well, at least he would be doing some work. And yes, people, I did have a cliché eucalyptus tree right outside my window.
“I thought it’d be fitting.” He shrugged, leaning on the closed window.
“Why, because I’m a romantic erotica writer?” I raised my eyebrows at him while putting away my manuscript. Who knew when he might steal it?
“No, because you’re a virgin erotica writer under my training.” He answered truthfully.
He moved from beside the window and came to sit behind me, legs on either side of my body. My short, shoulder length red hair was down, drying from my shower earlier. Now, he took a few strands and wrapped them around his hand and tugged. Hard.
“Ow!” I complained and fell back, landed on Ethan’s hard, muscular chest.
But instead of doing something perverted, he just wrapped his arms around my middle and laid his chin on top of my head.
“What? No lessons now, Mr. Whitmore?” My voice was cold, just like his had been in front of Dylan.
He sighed. “You have every right to be mad at me. I acted like a dick and I don’t have any excuses for it. It’s just that, Dylan and I have been competitors since high school and we can be a bit ruthless sometimes...and I don’t want you to get in between all this.” Another sigh, “After all, you’re my...”
I turned my head to look at his face, his hair was wet, too, golden strands glistened with tiny droplets of water, his face unusually handsome as his lips tugged up on the sides.
“I’m your…?” I raised an eyebrow, expecting him to say something along the lines of sex slave, instead what he said was...
“Dirty little secret.”