Wrong-An Ethan Morales FanFiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

𝓘𝓼𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓵

      Dɪᴅ I ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? Gᴏᴅᴅᴀᴍɴ ɪᴛ. Nᴏᴡ ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʏ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟʟ sᴏʀᴛs ᴏғ questions like what the fuck I'm talking about. Nothing else was going through my mind but to drink more alcohol, ingest some more pills and try to find anyone to have sex with. So yeah, I was drunk, stoned and horny.
     Blame the horny part on Ethan, he just made me whimper three times just from squeezing me and I'm sure that he thought it was whimpers of pain, but they were not. Also, he gave me the blue oves earlier when he literally was just inches away from me and saying that he didn't want any pictures of my panties online. That he would hunt the bastard down—the one that would have posted them—and make him regret that he ever did that.
     Sorry, but when a random guy treats me like that the only thing going through my mind at the moment is how I would get on my knees in a heartbeat. And surely not for begging like I do at home, at night, before I go to sleep.
     The throbbing between my legs intensified even more with him looking at me like that after I said what I said. Also for giving him an attitude, but that was a minor detail.
     "What did you just say?" He asked, loosening his grip on my rib and my wrist.
     I groaned in response, the contact that was missing with him making lose my mind.
     "Doesn't matter, plus, it doesn't concern whatever problems I have—" He cut me off, squeezing me in the same spots agains. Now having a tighter grip on them.
     "It does concern me because you just talked about it. But you know what? It is not my concern. And you're drunk. So go home." He said, letting me go in one harsh push.
    From all the things I expected him to say, that was not one of them. Fuck it. I couldn't go home. So I did a thing I thought I would never do and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Not to kiss him.
     "I can't go home, Morales. You don't fucking get it. I can't go home. So please. Don't. Make. Me." I said, gritting my teeth and looking at him straight in his eyes. He was looking at my lips probably or possibly my cleavage since I didn't see his eyes on mine and he was looking downwards, so there was a lot of possibilities.
     "Fine. But you're not staying here for the whole week. My mom will start asking me questions. So just for tonight."
     "Just for tonight. That's a promise." I replied, holding up my pinky to him.
     "I don't do pinky promises." He groaned.
     "Please?"
     He threw his head back in annoyance, and looking away he finally entwined his pinky with mine before releasing it and I let him go with a grin of victory on my face.
     Suddenly, everything went black.

     Sitting on the couch while mami and papi were fighting had become something I had to watch all the time. They hit each other. Mami's hand would sometimes fly at papi's face, and his hand would grab onto her in return. Either it was her neck or her wrist. Or anywhere else.
     Neither one of them would let me go to my room until they both had stopped fighting, and I felt nothing when I watched them. No crying. Nothing. No pain. No anger.
     I wouldn't move either, while the only thing I wanted to do was to go play with my dolls. Run to abuela's house and play tea party with her. Yet, I couldn't
     Papi looked at me and stormed over me, getting in my face and screaming. Still no hint of a feeling dripped onto me.
     "Little shit! Because of you, me and your mom are fighting all the time! You hear me?!" He yelled at my face, droplets of saliva dropping onto my face.
     I knew it was because of me that they thought all the time. Mami had said the same thing the other day. That I had ruined their marriage the day I was born. That they regretted ever not using a condom. I don't know what that is, but I never asked them. They yell words that I don't know what even is their meaning, and when I asked the miss at kindergarten she told me she didn't know either.
     I don't have any friends there, either. The lunch I have is made my abuela when she can bring it, but otherwise I usually don't eat.
     Not that it's too important, at least I get to keep drawing in the silence surrounded by me.               Silence that I wish I'd gotten when I'm at home.
     "Why the fuck doesn't the kid cry?!" Mami asked as she looked over at me. Papi pushed me harshly where I was, making the back of my head hit the hard back of the couch. A wince escaped my mouth but nothing else left. There was nothing else left to say or any other sound left to make.
     "Because she's just fucked up. Like the cunt of mother she has." Papi said as he turned back to mami and they started arguing again.
     Sometimes, I wished I could disappear and maybe—
     I was quickly thrown out of my flashback slash nightmare when my back jumped off the bed and I held the hem of the bed sheet under my hand tightly against my chest, my knuckles white with the force I held the sheet with. My chest heaved up and down faster than I wished it ever could. Throat dry, mouth wide open from the lack of air in my lungs.
    Once I regained composure and the only thing racing was my heartbeat, I looked around, finding myself in an unknown bedroom and on an unknown bed.
     Fuck, I don't remember anything from last night. Who did I have sex with? If, I even had sex.
     I looked under the plush cover and saw my body covered in a shirt the size of one of the short dresses I wore once. Panties were still on, no weird substance on my thighs. My neck didn't hurt, so no hickeys. No marks on my skin and my ass didn't feel raw, so no groping or spanking.
     Nothing happened, I think.
     The door was open and the person I did not wish to see right now entered the room. I was about to say something but when I looked at him my mouth fell open.
    No shirt, only grey sweatpants. Muscles sculpted by the gods, especially those abs, goddamnit. Was this a trap? Definitely. But eye candy right now didn't seem so bad. Especially with those tired eyes and messy hair, and the coffee mug in his hand.
     "Morning, cariño." He said, his tone husky, sending a jolt of heat between my legs. God, how much I hated that nickname, and loved it as much as I hated it at the same time.
     "Don't call me that." I groaned, acting like I was bothered and pinching the bridge of my nose in fake annoyance while actually my clit had just gotten its own heartbeat.
     "I can call you what I want." He replied, taking another sip of his coffee.
     Another little heartbeat.
    "No, you cannot. It's my name, if I want you to not call me 'cariño' then you have to respect that." I argued, crossing my legs under the covers and crossing my arms over my chest and looking up at him.
     He put his coffee down on his desk and walked over to the bed, before opening his mouth and starting to speak.
     "I don't give a single shit that I have to respect whatever standard you have for your name, you want to know why?" He asked, a smirk on his lips but a cocky tone on his voice as he approached the bed enough to get on top of it, crawling his way over me. Once he was close enough, he grasped my chin with his between his thumb and index, his hot breath hitting my face.
     Another jolt of heat traveled my spine all the way down to the spot between my legs, and I regretted ever crossing my legs because now they were too far apart from each other for me to squeeze my thighs together, and if I did to that out of nowhere he would get it. Not sure Ethan doesn't know anything about the different signs of arousal in a girl.
      "Because I can call you whatever the fuck I want. It's my mouth, my vocal cords and my tongue. I. Say. What. I. Want. And call you, what I want." He said, releasing my chin and pulling back.
      Basically, letting my chin go was an offense to my body. Especially when he left the bed and went back to his mug of coffee and not paying attention to me. So what other choice than to give him an attitude?
     "Fuck you, if I hate the goddamn nickname then you need to respect my choice, little guy." Arguing wasn't my way of trying to get someone closer to me once again, but it seemed to work on Ethan. Bingo.
     "You call me little guy but you're smaller than me in height and body mass." He chuckled, turning around, facing me then leaning against his desk, the mug in his hand while the other gripped the edge of the hardwood.
     "Maybe, but your ego is fifty percent of your body mass. So that still makes you a little guy." I argued, getting on all fours, the sheets that were covering my thighs now under the weight of my body.
     I crawled slowly over to the edge of the bed directed at him, my thighs sliding against each other from how wet I already was despite wearing panties. Guess they're not really useful. But crawling over in his direction was worth it, because he started smirking wide as his eyes locked on mine, then on my lips.
     When I finally reached the edge of the bed, I kneeled down and looked up at him, my toes pressing against the mattress.
     "Still bigger than you, cariño." He snarled, placing his mug back on the desk and looked over at me, slowly taking some steps closer to me. The bastard smiled even wider when he saw me groan and roll my eyes in pure annoyance.
     "I told you not to call me that, Morales." I hissed in annoyance, gritting my teeth.
     "Call me by my first name and I'll call you by yours." He suggested, taking another step closer. I shook my head and refused. No way I was going to stop my fun with his name. Plus, at least I wasn't calling him by a random ass nickname. Even though I loved what he called me as much as I hated it.
     "Never. Calling you 'Morales' is way more fun than just 'Ethan'."
     "Like calling you 'cariño' is funnier than calling you by your first name."
     "Fuck you." I think that's the second time that I said it.
     "Stop saying that to me." He growled between gritted teeth, his fists clenching inside the pockets of his sweatpants as he got closer and closer.
     "Or what, hmm? You can't do anything to me."
     "I can do a lot of things to get that attitude out of you, trust me. You don't want to know."
     "Oh but I want to know.
     "Then I'll show you." He said, before taking his hands off of their pockets and sliding them up the back of my neck, tangling them between the thick strands of my hair and crashing his lips on mine.
      The first two seconds, confusion filled my face, but quickly the confusion turned into a pool of heat on my lower stomach, making my hands go up into his hair while his hands moved down my back, slipped under the shirt and groped my bare ass, making me moan into his mouth and making him take advantage of my half open mouth and slipping his tongue inside, kissing me like he needed my mouth more than the air he breathed.
     He grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled my legs around his waist, before he kneeled on the bed with me on his lap and straddling him.
     We had just met now six weeks ago, and we were now eating each other's faces in a type of hunger I had almost every day.
     And God, I didn't want for it to ever end.