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The daily routine of classes, parties, hookups, practice and doing it all over again had bred uninterrupted boredom and I’d been restless, needing new entertainment.
Then she’d landed in my lap with her big eyes and fiery temper and I’d wanted her like I’d never wanted anyone before.
All of a sudden my pulse was beating in my wrists, my breathing was speeding up, and my attention was completely captured by her as I’d raked my eyes over her, exploring every curve of her tight body.
Tall and slender, she had the body of an athlete. It was obvious in the way she held herself, the innate belief only athletes have in their body’s physical abilities clear in her posture, and in her long, strong legs.
Her hair lay halfway down her back and was dyed from its natural blond to a shimmering silver color that shined in the light, making her look almost otherworldly.
Her eyes shot daggers in our direction and promised retribution, but the small crinkles at their corners revealed that under normal circumstances she might spend quite a lot of time laughing.
I’d wanted to take her then and there. To push her against the wall, run my fingers along the curve of where her inner thigh met her pussy and then under the fabric of her underwear, before sliding them into her wet heat.
To force her to her knees and fuck the fire out of her mouth.
Instead, she’d walked off with a disinterested look on her face and revealed the existence of a boyfriend the next day.
Annoyance had seeped deep under my skin and into my bones at the news. Annoyance at the additional hurdle in my way and mild irritation that another man could call her his.
I’d just discovered her and immediately learned she wasn’t mine to look at.
Yet.
The fact that she had been and was continuing to make me work for it had single handedly pulled me out of my bored baseline existence, sparking a flame of interest in my blood that I was going to get to the bottom of.
Like I’d told her, victory would taste sweeter when I eventually got her to submit.
???
I walk through the front door, past the foyer with the princess staircase and straight into the kitchen where I find Bellamy chopping carrots on a cutting board.
This is technically Rogue’s family home, but his mother abandoned the family when he was a kid and his father fucked off to America to avoid his parental duties shortly afterwards, coming back only a couple of times a year to act the part of the doting parent, so Phoenix and I moved in two years ago.
Living with your best mates is generally pretty fucking cool and also has its interesting moments, like witnessing one of said best mates develop a blind obsession for a girl.
“He’s having you cook dinner now?”
About a week ago, Rogue and Bellamy made a deal that entailed having her obey his every command for the next six weeks in exchange for having him clear an admonishment from her school records.
He’s been using that total power over her to have her perform sometimes humiliating tasks around the house.
And to make her sleep in his bed every night.
“No, he’s unfortunately much more creative with his orders.” She says, turning to throw carrots into the pot behind her. “I can’t let someone else cook for me.”
She’s referring to Claire, Rogue’s longtime housekeeper who also usually cooks dinner for us.
“How come? It’s a job like any other.”
“My mom’s been that person for other people. I’m just not comfortable with it really. Maybe one day.” She says with a shrug.
I nod slowly, taking in what she’s saying.
I know that Bellamy and Thayer both had a different type of upbringing in Chicago, one that was significantly more challenging than the way the rest of us silver-spooned trust fund babies were raised.
My parents were both very successful philanthropists and investment bankers in their own right.
They’d invested in social media startups in the nineties among other notable positions, resulting in having an impressive combined net worth before they’d died in a car accident.
