Wet… I'm fucking dripping in my pool of wetness.
Shock waves of heat, one after the other. Weird shit is happening in my stomach that leaves a nasty flavour in my tongue. Throat clogged with emotions that I couldn't identify whether it was shame or arousement… it isn't that I know what I feel but I ain't acknowledging that stupid fact.
My little slut.
I closed my eyes at the mocking that technically wasn't wrong. Yes, yes indeed I was expecting more, and my mind filled with- of course indecent images of him and the clear bulge of his junior monster through that race suit- hard, thick, and deli-
Fuck! Fuck… Fuck!
Breathe… breathe… please, breathe…
"I hate lavender" Another one of his rumblings echoed like a silent prayer. My inner thigh clenched. "Also, if you ask nicely I might accept an interview. Your choice, baby…"
Stop… no.
Goosebumps and unbearable heat.
My cold fingers automatically traces down to my core, like ice on fire arousing the impact ten times more than I usually masturbate.
I want to be revealed from this pain. This sensual torture that he created and left me to bear it… I wanted to be consumed or better words- I want to ravish that very core of the man. Flick the clit and let myself drown in the pleasure peak, skin my nails into his back, lose my mind screaming… Vlad-
"Miss, are you alright?"
Reality crashed down to my senses when my eyes snapped out the imaginative darkness that was formulated in my half sleep mind.
"Miss…" I flinched.
"Y-Yes…"
"The flight has landed in the terminal of Miami International Airport… Everyone has vacated their seats…" Sickly sweet smile of the hostess felt haunting to my palpitating heart.
I was fucking trying to masturbate in public. Not that I haven't done it before still, I gulped down my saliva harshly because I would have freaking moaned that horsehit's name. Oh unholy, you gave your- son of a gun.
"Right… sorry… j-just lost time…"
"No worries, miss."
I tumbled out my hand luggage from the cabinet, nearly dropping it. I bowed to her in apology once again as I quickly exited the aircraft. I boarded the bus, finding all my team engineers, PR, and sponsors teams were patiently seated. Guilt brimmed my throat.
"S-sorry…"
Fleeting of disdain glances yet no one either accepted my apology or commented except for my team, patted my back as if they understood my pain that I've been through those sleepless nights and caffeine filled mornings.
I feel more detached than I was at the start, with my carefree and positive personality. The more the emotions that crash down onto me, the more I feel detached. Should I blame my upbringing or should I blame the mere hope I clung onto the word of family. Maybe both.
It isn't that I don't feel the emotions yet strangely they don't affect me except for the major fact of the still ongoing heat from my core.
Vladimir-fucking-Yusupov, is the reason.
My cowardly appearance was pathetic.
Utterly, pathetic. Nerve wrecking situation as I avoided both Federick and that Demon too. I couldn't… I just can't, wasn't in my stable sense of mind.
Foolish. Pathetic. Weak-
"Breathe, love…"
I snapped, finding a pair of lush moist green instead of the freezing arctic blue pair of eyes. Disappointed- what the fuck!
"Liam?"
"Before you ask me- yes I was in the same flight, next to you in fact, like a wanker admiring you but now… something is troubling you, isn't it?"
My lips twitched at his confession both in amusement and to my oblivious nature. I sighed deeply and nodded that he was right.
The silence itched between us, a space for me to say what is troubling me or start with a different topic altogether or better let the tranquility prevail until the bus reaches the hotel.
Me being me, my mouth blabbered,
"How do I smell?" Shit!
I want to dig my own grave and bury myself in shame. What the fuck I did ask?!! Still curious.
"Like the roses…" A second later, he continued, "It suits you better than lavender."
I was appalled.
"Why?" I whispered. A slight shiver of anticipation of the unknown yet that very unknown to what I actually trying to find for myself.
"Well… lavender is like a social butterfly and flaunts as if nothing is there to be unseen, it isn't unpleasant and all but the roses are bold, mysterious, it has depth that the lavender lacks." Those thoughtful and seriousness laced voice is hard to miss, even for the dumbest of the dumb.
Whereas, I, the greatest prodigy…
Quit the nonsense of your air headed ego.
Fine bitch.
I inhaled sharply, a fresh core of heat stimulated within me not in lust of electricity or the lack of thereof but for a strange hitch my heart filled with being seen as me not the all-positive Anushka. A minor detail that no one even would care about unless they wanted something out of me.
Maybe he wants something from me, which only points out to one conclusion is sleeping with me but why would he go that length? As if approaching cautiously, threading each word precisely. At one moment he pushes and tortures me as if I am his mortal enemy but the next I see him growling at the men I speak or work with. Reminding me of my professional ethics towards the engineers or simple example Liam but when it comes to him, he acts like he owns me…
An acute strike of lightning hit my oblivious, zero EQ but hundred when it comes to fiction romance of my brain. Should I laugh like a freaking maniac or smirk at the situation. Oh my silly Vladimir, trying all the ways to make me busy with work, work, and more god damn work to make sure I don't have time for love life or mere date a guy.
Until now… I thought that Vladimir was trying to control me as if I'm another plaything or property he wanted to conquer, submit to his rules and dominance like the rest of the team in this racing company and win another world championship to show what Demon he is but I was fucking wrong. Too wrong to think that man intended to grind me into difficulties and hurdles while he wins every Grand Prix like a prick, for his ego of a three time world champion on the grid but no…
But thinking now, he is ruining me in a good way. Fuck I don't even blame for being a dick to me because I see that he wants me to push to show I am a worthy of a woman to be as a engineer team advisor. My opinions were taken seriously. He sees me as me, not that facade I project… Or I am assuming wrong.
Nevertheless, I feel like I'm mattered. Not the little girl that mama wants to know my every decision or the product that could be sold in the market for papa.
I don't care anymore.
Another shackle that might be in the way of potential progress and I'm not scared for it to bind me.
This is a disaster.
Fucked up beautiful disaster. And running isn't on my to-do list.
Because very soon my heart will yearn that bastard as if an attention seeking bitch.
Haven't we already?
~*~*~*~*~*~
My body is in auto-pilot mode, my brain works as a broken tape recorder, and my senses are in flight mode. Great way to begin the day for the upcoming qualifying of the Miami Grand Prix.
I know I can't keep hiding or avoiding him. Eventually either one of us has to give in to this errotic tension and of course, I am not getting hunted by that horse-shit. So I will make him carve me, not the other way around. Exactly, this time I will be the one to tease and rile the fuck out of him.
One variable that is being an obstacle in path is the so-called girlfriend of his- Scarlet Romanoff. She has to be eradicated off the place. Too noisy and prying, also annoying as goat-shit. Wherever she is, I feel like puking my guts out seeing the fake acting and sweet talking. Moreover those cameras pointing, capturing, and making content out of it is making me boil in anger. Is this Formula one- a pinnacle of engineering and innovation or model runaway show? Each driver puts their lives on line while driving at the minimum speed of 300 kilometers per hour but what is the conclusion now is a luxury filled with models.
"Careful sweetheart, you might burn a hole on your innocent little waffle"