Chapter 5 — God: He's so Hot

“He's your mum's fiancé, Rosie.” I chanted as I sorted through my wardrobe for a study outfit.

After a few minutes of endless searching— I groaned, slamming the wardrobe close.

Since when did I care about my looks?

Who cares…

It's my bloody house, I should wear what I'm comfortable in.

I bit my lip softly, glaring at the array of clothes on my bed.

My eyes roved around then suddenly—

They landed on my satin set.

(No Rosie,) I reprimanded, shaking my head in disagreement. 

(He's your mother's—)

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” I screeched, picking up the satin shorts and armless top.

(You fucking slut.)

“Shut up, bitch.” 

I mentally facepalmed.

“Now I was having an argument with my mind about morality.” I murmured. “Way to go Rosie, remember things like this are what lands people in a psychiatric hospital.”

I peeled the joggers and top from my body, then slipped into the satin shorts and armless top.

(Don't you think that's a bit too much?)

“Like anyone asked for your opinion.” I replied, dryly.

(Your legs and boobs are all out, you're just studying.)

“Oh please… I'm just going to test him, I mean I have to know what kind of a man he is.” I replied proudly. 

(Wow… was that idea there all this while or this is a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing?)

“I mean… if he makes a move or stares lewdly, it means he's not the one for my mum. But if he doesn't—”

(I'm sure you'd like him to make a move on you—)

I slapped myself hard, wincing as the fog cleared immediately followed by a sharp sting.

I scowled, rubbing my cheeks soothingly.

My gaze slid to the bedside clock, it was almost one.

“Come on, Rosie.” I mumbled, picking up my essentials, including Lena's draft work.

I walked towards the door, my hands pausing on the doorknob as I said a quiet prayer.

Pushing the door open, I walked out, heading towards the living room. 

As I got closer, I could hear his voice…

He seemed to be talking with someone on the phone, as if on cue my heart started pounding senselessly again.

I froze.

Shrouding myself behind the wall.

“What is wrong with you, Rosie?” I whispered, stepping forward a bit to stare at him.

He was clad in the same black singlet, but this time his hair was wet, it kept sliding forward even as he pushed it back.

A pair of reading glasses sat on his nose, enhancing his Professor look more.

He shifted slightly, placing one leg over the other, a slight jerk drew my gaze from his face to the flaccid length between his legs.

Fuck…

My mouth watered, thirsty for something that I was sure wasn't water.

My toes curled tightly, while my clit pulsed steadily.

I looked back at him, staring as he listened to the person on the other end with utmost concentration.

His fingers drew slow circles on the cushion, and I gritted my teeth.

Rubbing my thighs together in search of friction, while imagining those fingers someplace in need of his attention.

I'd never felt more jealous of furniture than I did at that moment.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there lusting after him, with my nipples erect and my thighs wet.

After a while… he ended the call.

Then—

“How long do you plan on standing there, Rosie?” Henry asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut, muttering a quiet,

“Shit.”

I slowly walked out, glancing everywhere but him, in an attempt to avoid his gaze.

I took a seat on the other couch, hugging the book tightly to my chest.

Stupid satin cloth.

(Oh please, you chose to wear it… now he'll know just how turned on you are for him.)

I exhaled heavily, eyes still fixed on every random object in the room.

One would think it was my first time in my house… my goddamn house.

“Umm…” Henry started, I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes. 

“Are you… alright?” He asked, squinting at me suspiciously.

“Yeah…” I nodded, staring at the floor.

“You're quite far away from me though, I imagine we should be much closer if I'm going to tutor you.” He said. “There's still enough space here even if you don't wish to sit close to me.”

Fucking smartass.

This was a bad idea.

Maybe I should just cancel it, tell him not to worry.

I have Lena's notes, I would be fine.

(You've had those notes for ages)

“Shut up.” I whispered, harshly.

Henry glanced at me worriedly.

God, now he thinks I'm insane.

He sighed heavily. “If you don't wish to continue—”

“No.” I shouted, he blinked, eyes wide in surprise.

“I mean… we can start tomorrow or something—”

“No… it's fine.” I huffed, and stood up walking toward him.

I took my seat at the end of the couch.

“That far?” He asked, I glanced at him to see a teasing smile on his face.

He chuckled low, shaking his head.

“Alright then, let's see what we're working with here.” He said, arms outstretched.

“Huh?”

“The books, Rosie.”

“Books?” I echoed.

“Yes Rosie,” he replied, fingers touching his lips with a playful smile, my gaze flickered to the movement then back to his eyes.

“The books you seem to have in a death grip.”

I glanced down, staring at the books I clung tightly to my chest, then back to him.

“I- I can't.” I stuttered.

He pursed his lips, desperately trying to reign in his amusement.

He leaned back on the cushion arm with his legs wide apart.

The movement caused his length to jerk and my gaze drifted there—

I immediately lifted it back up… only to find he was staring at me with an intensity that made me tremble all over.