Mocking Dick (5)

You saw Rich’s eyes bore into yours; it was hypnotizing. He’d somehow gotten close enough to you that you could feel his short breaths on your cheek.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to talk to me unless you had a few drinks.”

It made sense. He’d known you for awhile, and everyone that did know you had the pleasure of experiencing drunk you.

“C’mon, Y/n. Talk to me. What happened earlier?”

You hadn’t realized you were staring off into space, unintentionally avoiding his words. The thing about drunk you also was: you weren’t good with words when the time came.

What good was it to try explaining how you felt about him, when you could just show him.

In a split second, you’d managed to pull his face down and press your lips to his. Your right hand ran through his caramel-brown locks, your left one placed itself on the back of his neck.

Rich’s eyes grew wide as you kissed him, but despite the surprise, his arms circled gently around your waist.

That moment of bliss was shortly interrupted as Rich’s lust somehow turned to disgust. At least, that’s what you thought.

Rich pulled himself away almost a second later.

“I-Y/N, I can’t do that,” he tried grabbing your hand, but you tugged it away, “No, I-I didn’t mean that.”

You shook your head, the pounding in it began to beat like crazy and a few tears welled up in your eyes.

“No, it’s fine.”

With that, you ran past him and back to your room.