Heart of Fury - Stone and Fire # 2 [17+]

Chapter 8

Aurora's POV

The moment my eyes flit open and the bright light of the sun swarms into my room, I snap myself into a sitting position like I'm a doll made of plastic.

The regret of my actions hit me like a brick. Mikhail's appearance was more than surprising, but what he did wasn't as nerve-shocking as I thought it would be. The only thing shocking was how I reacted.

"Please touch me."

And there I was, basically begging for his hands to finger-fuck me even while the stupid, uncompliant part of my brain wanted no more than to kick his 'playful' ass out of my dorm room.

If I had been watching a video of myself last night, there's no way I would consider myself sober. Not even a little bit. 

Get it together you thirsty, desperate, touch-deprived weirdo. 

When I lift myself off the bed, my eyes go straight to the door, acting all sweet and innocent and glazed over with sunlight as if it wasn't an absolute dick for not telling me Mikhail had entered my room completely uninvited. I glare the wood as if he's standing there himself.

Stupid piece of shit.

Rubbing my eyes, I tapped open my phone.

Twelve p.m.

Lucky for me, it was the weekend. If it was any other day, I would be sitting in my room with my books open, wondering what to do after missing physics a fifth time. Charlotte would be ringing me up, yelling at me with taunts about guys having a pity party due to my disappearance. I guess I was popular, but it's simply that fact that prevents me from drawing any boys to my half-jail of a dorm room. Everyone knew about Leo and Kaiden as well as how much they cared about guys stepping one foot in my direction. To someone else it might seem extreme, but to me it was a sigh of relief from the constant social deprivation back home.

My phone buzzes with a text. I bring it up to my blinking eyes, my eyelids speeding up to make sense of the words on my screen.

It's pathetic, don't you think?

How easily I can distract you from my real motive. I was close to crossing the line, but I hardly broke a sweat getting you to melt under my touch.

There's a moment's wait, and then another text slides through.

I could've fucked you last night. But I didn't, did I?

It's called self-control, angel. 

You should practice it once in a while.

I can picture him typing it all out, a smirk on his face while the rest of him holds back from laughing at me. A slow, tempering rage slides up my feet and into my head, burning the phone in my hands.

I throw it across the room.

A slew of curses and insults pile up in my head, while I also wonder what I would feel like if he had gone further than just touching me. I don't wanna think about it. At the same time, a weird thrill snakes up my back, reminding me of how close I was to accepting whatever he was giving me. 

I walk over to the cracked phone on the floor, and pick it up again before throwing it against the door. 

It bounces off the wood and lands in a perfect, somehow unbroken pile on the floor. I stare it.

"Fuck you."

It lights up, as if responding to my words with a smile. 

I tread back to my bed and slam myself into my pillow, groaning. My door slowly opens, and I shove myself upwards, for some reason expecting Mikhail with his phone held up, texting me from the living room. It's definitely something that bastard would do.