Playing games
1448 Words
PAIGE
As I reached his door, I paused, smoothing out the dress I borrowed from Stormie's room and tugging at my bust. I took a deep breath before raising my hand to knock.
Grealish answered the door, his blue eyes cold and unfeeling as they roamed over my body. I felt my skin sizzle in response to his icy gaze.
"What do you want?" He asked bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"You're the last person I want to see too," I said without giving him a chance to respond or process what was happening.
I rode him back into the room and remembered how I had done the same thing earlier to Stormie. At what point did I become a thug forcefully injecting myself into rooms I wasn't invited into?
My heart thumped as my body grazed his body making the slightest contact and I took a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Grealish stood with a look of disbelief on his handsome face. The touch of gray stubble on his face gave off the impression of an overwhelming sensuality.
I strolled over to the straight-back chair uncertain of what madness had brought me to his room.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked weakly. He sounded like he was exhausted out of his mind.
What am I doing here? Are you crazy? Get out now before it gets complicated!
I shrugged. "Maybe I got bored and lost my mind in the process."
"Maybe?"
I struggled with a logical explanation but couldn't find any. I realized knocking on his door had been the easiest part. This was torture.
"Did you come here to do your job?" He asked with a spiteful grimace. "Spy on me so you can report back to your master like a loyal poodle."
"You think I'm a loyal poodle?" I asked, feeling a whiplash from his words.
"What does it matter what I think?" He said frowning.
It wasn't supposed to matter what he thought about me but I realized with a sick feeling that it mattered a lot because I cared enough to make it matter.
"Why are you here?" He asked in a hard emotionless voice.
I sat on the chair with the back pressed against my t**s. I thought it would help the process but I was wrong.
There was a puzzled look on his face yet I got the impression he was uneasy with my being there. He seemed tense. I guess I deserve it. I made myself the villain during our last encounter in the bar.
I'd always been a confident woman, never one to shy away from a challenge yet here I was unsure as f**k in every way.
As much as I tried to wiggle my way out of coming to terms with it, I knew I wanted him ever since I first laid eyes on him.
"I just wanted to talk," I replied, trying to sound alluring.
Grealish merely snorted, his lips quirking an impatient sigh. "I don't have time for your mind games. Why don't you just leave?"
I bit her lip, my heart racing. This wasn't going the way I had planned. But I wasn't going to give up. I had to try harder.
"I'm not playing games," I said determinedly. "I...I just want to talk."
Grealish raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. "Why?" he asked bluntly.
I felt a stab of frustration. Couldn't he see how much I wanted him? "Because...because I think you're interesting," I said, my voice trembling slightly.
Grealish just looked at me for a long moment, his face unreadable. "I'm not interested," he said finally. "Now please leave."
I felt a pang of hurt, but I refused to let it show. Instead, l took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm.
But Grealish pulled away, his face stony. "I said I'm not interested," he said firmly.
I felt her eyes fill with tears, her heart breaking. But I refused to give up that easily. Can't he see just how much I want him?
"I...I just want to understand you," I said, my voice trembling. "And I want—"
Grealish snorted, his eyes cold. "You'll never understand me," he said harshly. "And I don't give a f**k what it is you want. Now please, leave me alone."
I was about to say, 'And I want you to understand me. I want you, Grealish.'
I felt her spirit shatter, but I refused to give up. Instead, I took a deep breath, summoning all of my courage.
"Just...just give me a chance," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Grealish just looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching. Finally, he let out a sigh, his expression softening slightly.
"Fine," he said, his voice low. "Now tell me what this is really about."
I felt a sense of relief wash over me, but I refused to show it. I took a step closer, my eyes meeting his.
"Thank you," I said softly.
Grealish just nodded, his eyes unreadable. "So...what do you want?" he asked gruffly.
I felt a sense of excitement bubble up inside me. I had his attention. Now I just had to make the most of it.
"I...I want to know what makes you tick," I said, my eyes locked with his. "What gets you going?"
Grealish just studied me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he let out a sigh, his expression softening slightly.
"I don't really have any of those things," he said, his voice low. "I just...I just exist."
His reply made me feel a tension rising deep within me. It wasn't the answer I wanted but it was the hottest thing I'd heard all day.
"I wasn't expecting that."
Grealish just raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking in amusement. "I know," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.
I felt a sense of pride. I had cracked his tough exterior, if only for a moment. But I knew I had to keep pushing. One wrong move and he could go cold at any moment without hesitation and shut me out for good.
"So...do you have any passions?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
Grealish just shrugged, his eyes cold. "Not really," he said indifferently. "I just do what I want to do."
"And what do you want to do right now?"
He yawned, oblivious to my antics. "Sleep, I guess."
I felt a sense of frustration. How could someone be so...apathetic? But I refused to let it show. Instead, I took a deep breath, trying another tactic.
"Don't you want to know what I'm passionate about?"
"Sure." He said without the slightest interest.
"Well, I'm passionate about you," I said, a hint of seduction in my voice.
Grealish watched me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a sigh, his expression softening slightly.
"I'm...flattered," he said, his voice low. "But I don't trust you."
I took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn't move away this time. "I don't trust you either."
"Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We understand each other then."
"We do," I said softly. "Do you know what I want to do to you right now?"
"Why don't you tell me." He said. "I suck at guessing."
I moved my fingers down the length of his arm slowly, feeling the life and energy pulsating inside him through his muscles.
"I…want…your c**k," my fingers slipped into his garment and grazed his hardened c**k. "In my mouth."
He sucked in air making a sharp whistle sound. "I think I want that too."
Without a word, I led him to the chair and waited until he was seated comfortably. His eyes taunted me and the smirk at the corner of his lips tugged at my strings. It was almost as if he thought I didn't have what it takes to go the whole way.
"What?"
He shrugged, feigning ignorance. "Nothing."
"I know that look," I said, trying not to let it get to me.
"What look?"
"That look. There it is again! Yes. That look. Like you have me where you want me."
His smirk took its full form. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I knew I was right. Grealish thought he won but he was wrong. I was the winner here because I was doing exactly what I wanted.
"I'm only here right now because I want to be here," I said pulling his c**k free.
"This is exactly," my tongue grazed the tip. "Where I want you."
- Writer
