"Shhh! Do not make a sound.. or I won't refrain myself to tie you up!" His grip on my wrist tightens.
I need to get my book from him, in which I wrote all of my erotic fantasies.
Fantasies that he is slowly turning real in his evil ways.
It's like...
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Emara Stone
"Your choice Cheetos, you want to be a good girl or you want your mouth to be wrapped with my belt?"
I stare at Daniel with horror as he wraps his belt around his knuckles intimidatingly. His fist has scars and scratches too, similar to Ryan's. They look old and deep as if occurred a week or two weeks ago. I would be stupid to think that he won't hit a girl.
Daniel's grey eyes darkening as he sends me a hostile smirk. The corner of his chin has streak mark that extends till his jaw depicting he has been beaten or probably had jaw restructuring surgery. He looks dangerously creepy, like a wicked potato.
I stay statue on my bed, my logical side of the brain gets into a deep analysis of the current situation. Ryan->Ethan->Fight->Blood->Hospital->Plastic Surgery! This is not right, it's a nightmare. It has to be a nightmare. A bad dream I desperately want to wake up from. So that when I wake up, I go back to update my book, Ryan goes back to college, and Daniel's jeans go back to his waist that is now slipping down from his thighs.
His red underwear reflects vibrantly in my retina as his jeans slowly slide down from his legs. My eyes unwantedly fall to his undies big holey y-fronts that I have never seen before of a guy. They look big and filled like a shopping bag.
I look up at Daniel, his grim eyes stay on me like a prison's watchman being unaware of his denim's south driving skills. "Y-your jeans." I point my shaky finger towards the outer red peel of his banana. Daniel narrows his eyes as he speaks sternly, "It's not for sale."
Huh? I blink a few times as I try to decode what he just said. "What? No, your underwear-" He instantly cuts me off as he barks like an unfriendly dog, "It's not for sale either." This illiterate chicken.
"No-no, I mean it's going down." I instantly clear the misinterpretation but Daniel noxiously shakes his head and as he snaps pointing at the roof, "And you will directly go up, so better close that mouth before I shove washing powder down your throat." My heart flinched at his sour tone. Washing powder!
