Lyra Parish - Weak for Him

"I'd like that."

"Great. I'll arrange it with Felton when we return. Which"—he glanced at his watch—"we should probably head back."

After dusting off my feet and placing on my heels, Luke's suit jacket found its way around my shoulders.

The ride back to the office happened in slow motion. Luke's laughter was contagious, deep and hearty. The genuine smile he gave me, and the way his crystal blue eyes lit up as he looked at me, made me feel pretty.

He led me to Mr. Felton's office, and our images reflected on the glass. With tousled hair and clammy faces, we looked as if we experienced a night of wild sex.

Mr. Felton sat at his desk, fully focused on paperwork. When we entered, he didn't acknowledge us whatsoever.

"Here she is. Ten o' clock."

No response. He continued to write vigorously as if he would tear straight through the paper.

Luke turned my body away from my cheery boss and gave me the sweetest kiss on the cheek, then whispered in my ear, "Until we meet again."

He left me in Mr. Felton's office, a place I hadn't visited in weeks. I glanced at the floor, and then focused my attention out the window and watched the city lights. I stood firmly with messy hair and Luke's jacket on my shoulders.

I waited for Mr. Bossman to give the command to sit. Because as an Elite, we must be instructed before we can act, speak when spoken to. Follow Rules.

Minutes passed before he finished writing. Once he did, Mr. Felton shut the black notebook, put down the pen, and looked at me.

"Have a good time, did you?" The edge in his voice returned.

"I did, thank you."

"I assume you are still a virgin after your rendezvous with Luketon?"

"Your assumption would be correct."

"Are you sure? You look a little disheveled and flustered."

"If he did stick it in, I didn't feel it. So I guess you'll have to trust me, won't you?"

With the word trust , he gave a devilish grin.

"Trust. I've learned to trust those who are trustworthy. Is that you, Ms. Downs? Are you trustworthy?"

"Yes."

"You would do anything that I told you to and tell me the truth if I asked?"

"Yes."

"There is no reason to lie to me if I ask you a question, is there?"

"No."

"So, Ms. Downs, did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes. I did, sir ."

He stalked toward me with as much fluidity as a cat.

"What did you call me?"

He gave a chuckle as if he were experiencing an inside joke with himself.

"It sounds quite nice coming from your lips. Continue to call me that instead of Mr. Felton until I say. Do you understand?"

"Yes… sir." I hesitated.

I did it to be sarcastic, and now, he wanted it as if it turned him on in some fucked up way.

"Did he kiss you?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "Sir," I added quickly.

"Did he touch you in inappropriate places?"

"No, sir ."

"Did you want him to?"

I hesitated again. I hadn't thought of Luke touching me anywhere throughout the whole night. The date wasn't full of sexual tension and getting naked. It was innocent and fun.

"Answer me." Harshness blanketed his tone, and I flinched.

"No, sir. It wasn't like that."

Mr. Felton walked toward the window and peered out at the busy streets and groups of people pounding the pavement.

"You may sit, Jennifer."

I sat in the chair across from his desk, and waited for him to address me, but he seemed lost in the city.

"Luketon will ask for another date. And you may go if you would like. But you can refuse the offer if you'd rather not."

"I would like another date… sir."

"Great," he said flatly. "You can leave now."

I pushed the chair under the desk and laid the coat jacket on the back. Mr. Felton would see Luke before I did.

As I turned the doorknob to leave, he grabbed my hand. I turned, but refused to look into his eyes. His jaw clenched, and he lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. No words exchanged between us, just a weird electricity as if our bodies were speaking in a language that neither one of us understood. He released my wrist, and flicked his head insinuating I should leave.

Once inside the elevator, I recouped my thoughts before pressing G .

What the hell just happened?

I honestly didn't know.

Charlie dropped me off at home, where only a few exotic cars lined the driveway. I really needed to purchase a new car. It was on my list of things to do. Although the Honda's tire was fixed, I didn't feel like driving it. I had outgrown my college vehicle.

I thanked Charlie and headed toward the door. I punched the code into the keypad, but the door didn't open. Thinking I must have pushed an incorrect combination, I tried again. I had no key.

"Fuck," I whispered.

"Is that an offer?" Mr. Felton asked.

He must have driven around the backside of the house because I didn't hear him or V arrive but I wasn't paying attention.

"Umm."

He reached over my shoulder and punched in the code, but it didn't work for him either. Ha, I thought.

Without saying a word, we walked around the house, and he used his key for the back door. Inside was completely quiet. Everyone must have been out for the night or in bed. Only the virgin had a ten o'clock curfew.

Not paying attention, Mr. Felton walked into a lamp that sat in the corner of the sunroom. It shattered into a million pieces.

"Damn it," he said, whispering.

I barely made out his form by the faint moonlight that shone through the windows. He bent down and picked up all the little pieces of glass.

"Why in the world would anyone put that there?" I asked.

I wasn't familiar with every aspect in the house yet and had no clue where the switch would be. My luck, there would be a remote, just like every other damned light here. I pulled my phone from my clutch to give him some light. He laughed.

"Really?"

"What?"

"Your wallpaper, it's silly."

"What's silly about kittens? They're cute and make me smile."

"Right."

After unplugging the lamp from the wall, I bent down and helped.

"Careful. Picking up broken pieces can be dangerous," he said.

I whispered "Yes, sir" with sweet seduction in my voice. He stopped, but I continued picking up shards of glass with great care, but not carefully enough.

Pain pierced my finger and warm liquid dripped. Blood. The cut, although deep enough to hurt and bleed, was not deep enough to need stitches. Mr. Felton grabbed my hand and shined the kitty wallpaper on my finger. He immediately took his tie from around his neck and placed it on the wound.

"Come on. Before you bleed out on the wood floor," he said, leading me to the bathroom around the corner. Cold water washed the pain away.

Mr. Felton opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a small first aid kit. With great care, he doctored the nick. Neosporin and a Band-Aid and the small cut was sealed to heal.

"And I'm the softie?" I sarcastically asked.

He slightly puckered his lips and gave a laugh.

"What?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me about your sexual fantasies."

My mouth dropped open. I closed it and swallowed.

"Okay," I said, trying not to stutter.

My nerves tugged and pulled inside of my stomach. I had never spoken about my fantasies openly before. Not even to Lori or Abbie, and they were my best friends. Mr. Felton leaned against the sink, waiting.

"I don't know."

"You're bound to have some sort of fantasy. If you could have anything in the world, sexually, what would it be?"

He lifted an eyebrow at me. I cleared my throat.

"I might like being tied."

"Kinky little virgin." Mr. Felton chuckled.