Little Snowflake: A dark romance novella, page 9
The De Santos are hosting their annual Charity Ice Ball to raise money for the homeless, and my mom is in charge of planning. The charity ball is the only business related event my grandfather lets my mom get involved in. When she was first asked to plan and decorate the Ice Ball, she practically jumped at the opportunity. She did such a great job that she plans it each year.
Both me and Nate are meeting our mom at Charlestown’s city hall, to help her discuss some plan ideas that she would like our opinion on. We meet at a small diner next to the city hall, which is where the Ice Ball is being hosted.
Cherry’s Diner is modern, with black and white tiled flooring, red and white booths and posters of famous singers displayed on the walls.
I arrive earlier than Nate and my mom, so I head inside and take a seat at the booth in the furthest corner giving me a clear view of the entire diner.
The waitress hurries over to me, flipping out her notepad and clicking a pen, ready to start writing. She’s young and blonde with a permanent smile plastered on her face. Her slim figure suits her red, bodycon dress as it moulds to every inch of her skin. I don’t miss her eyes drinking me in from head to toe.
“What can I get you, sir?” She purrs as she flits her eyelashes at me.
I haven’t even bothered to look at the menu, but I answer abruptly to get rid of her. “Just coffee. Thanks.”
She nods and walks off reluctantly like she wanted to say something else, but decided against it.
I’m fucking glad she didn’t say anything more. I ordered coffee to get rid of her. I don’t even like coffee.
While I enjoy my own company, I’m more than happy to see Nate enter with our mom and head over to the table. Nate is wearing checkered slacks and a plain black tee, and my mom looks as gorgeous as ever wearing tanned cigarette trousers and a khaki sleeveless top, with closed toe high heels.
Rising to my feet, I clasp Nate’s hand in greeting before moving over to my mom. Her arms open wide as she wraps them under my arms. She makes a groaning noise as she pushes one cheek to my chest and squeezes me.
While stern and cold are the only expressions I use with my father, my mom is softer and will always show her love for both me and Nate. She’s the one who dried my tears and cleaned my grazes when I was younger, before I developed the De Santos hard exterior.
She pulls back and places both her hands on my cheeks, taking in my appearance. “Hi, Tristan.” Her smile grows in admiration.
“Hey, Mom,” I smile back, before patting her on the back to take a seat and stop gawking at me.
As I take my seat and mom sits opposite me, the waitress is back at our table with my mug of coffee that I won’t even fucking drink. She asks Nate and mom what they’d like to order; a glass of Pinot Grigio for mom and a pint of beer for Nate. Adding on an extra beer, Nate orders one for me too. Thank fuck.
“So, I’ve had a look around the city hall interior for some planning ideas. I want to expand on last year's decor and make this year even more magnificent. Strictly blues, greys and silvers for colours to fit with the ice theme.” Mom starts running through Ice Ball ideas, speaking them out loud so we can get an idea of her current plans.
“You want better than last year?” Nate questions. “Not possible, Mom. You perfect it every year.”
The waitress brings over our drinks, this time drinking Nate in and showing her obvious interest by licking her lips and giving him the eye.
He doesn’t pay her an ounce of interest as he takes his beer and focuses his attention back on Mom.
I nod in agreement. “He’s not wrong. Your design vision is impecável.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks. “Oh boys, stop it,” she waves her hand forward. “You’re going to make me cry happy tears.”
“For telling you the truth?” I question, raising my brows at her.
“For complimenting me. This is something I didn’t know I wanted until I started, and now, it’s everything to me. To be told you’re flawless and perfect at your passion sinks deeper than any other compliment ever could. It makes reaching my goals so much more possible.”
“You were made to be an event designer, Mom. Your talent is unmatched.” Nate coos.
Mom sits in silence with a closed smile on her face, before she throws her hands up and huffs. “See!” She starts rummaging through her bag. “You boys made me cry happy tears!” She pulls out a tissue and starts dabbing tears before they even leave her eyes.
“Oh Mom, come on. No tears,” I leave two pats on her right hand that’s placed on the table, but almost instantly retract my hand. It feels too raw and personal, so I reach for my beer instead. I take a large gulp, savour the taste, and take another to wash away the awkward intimacy I just brought upon myself.
“So, am I to expect either of you to bring a date to the Ice Ball?” Mom’s happy tone indicates she’d love us to bring a date, but she knows it's a little too hopeful. At thirty-four and thirty-six, neither of us are married, in relationships, or have children. We’re both just old, grumpy assholes who choose work over women.
Well, I used to. But a certain blonde keeps wrenching my focus from work onto her.
“Nope,” Nate pops the P. “You know me, Mom, nothing sparks my interest quite like a house on the market. Don’t expect any grandkids soon.”
A chuckle escapes my lips at Nate’s abrupt reply.
“Don’t encourage him, Tristan.” Mom deadpans.
I hold my hands up in surrender, claiming my innocence.
“What about you, Tristan, do you have a date?”
I shake my head in refusal.
Mom’s eyes narrow and I’m instantly weary of her reply. Usually she wouldn’t question me, but something tells me she’s about to.
“Liar.” Her statement catches me by surprise, but I don’t show it.
“You’re being secretive.” She states, her eyes still narrow as she judges me. She can read me like a book, which is fucking annoying when I want to keep some things personal. “There’s a girl but you aren’t sure yet.”
I don’t deny, but I also don’t admit the truth. She’s partly wrong; I’m sure on Pria. She’s addictive and consuming and there’s no fucking way in hell I’ll let her go once I have her.
Nate’s sudden eyes on me make me aware of the tension between us on the table. I need it to dissipate before more questions are asked.
“No.” I finally answer, leaving the conversation there.
Both Nate and Mom pick up on my refusal to share and leave the conversation alone, which I’m fucking grateful for.
We order our lunch and eat it like we haven’t been fed for ten days, before I request the bill and pay for all three of us.
A twenty step walk from the diner brings us to the city hall, which is where Mom demands we enter just to take a look around for the Ice Ball.
The City Hall is so big that it could fit four large church buildings inside of it. It’s the perfect location to have the Ice Ball; it’s in the centre of Charlestown so is easily accessible for all Charlestown residents and all non-residents too. Its large walls and ceilings date back to the 1800's style, with cement statues and pointed corner windows decorating each side. A dance floor sits in the centre of the hall, leading to multiple small side rooms. A large staircase sits just past the entry foyer, leading up to the second floor which holds a handful of unused bedrooms. They aren’t available to stay in, only for viewing. They’re completely untouched from 1924 when some historically famous guy stayed in them. Fuck knows who it was.
It takes a whole half an hour to stroll around the premises, but Mom is so intrigued by the interior that me and Nate followed her around like lost puppies, just to see her happy. Even though she sees the inside of city hall every single fucking year, yet is still infactuated by it.
As she strolls off with a tape measure to measure an archway, me and Nate stay put in the centre of the dance floor.
“So, did you enjoy the fashion show?” Nate questions as he avoids eye contact with me.
I know he’s up to something, so I keep my cards close to my chest. “It was fine. Did you enjoy it?”
“It was fine. But I would’ve enjoyed it more if I found someone worthy of spending 100k on.” His eyes finally focus on me. I’m now the one avoiding eye contact.
When I don’t respond, he speaks again. “Who is she, Tristan? I know you wouldn’t donate 100k to a charity we already donate to for nothing.”
I look at him, but don’t respond. My mind battles with itself as I try to think of a response. I don’t want to tell him who she is, because then I’ll have to tell him about my recent activities. He’ll recognise her name from the funeral.
He gives up after a few seconds, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, don’t tell me. But I’ll find out, you know I will.”
I glance at him, knowing he’s on some sort of power trip, just to see him smirking at me. “Dick.”
Mom’s presence is welcomed as she interrupts our conversation and tells us she’s finished. I’ve never been happier to leave my brother and go home.
This past week has been work overload with the sudden growth of De Santos Properties that my personal time has almost been non-existent. I’ve spent a week doing the sinful art of just observing, and I'm getting more and more impatient. I need to have her, to touch her, to taste her.
And my desire is growing exceedingly stronger than my self-control.
15
Pria
Another downside to adult life; putting something in a safe space then forgetting where the safe space is.
I search for my painkillers to ease the editor's posture back pain in almost every drawer and cupboard within the house, yet there’s no sign of it.
My bedroom drawers are the final place to look, and I’m almost certain they aren’t in there, but my mind tells me I need to check.
I move my socks around the drawer in search of the packet, but no luck. Next I try my bra drawer, no luck. Finally, I try my underwear drawer. Confusion sits at the forefront of my mind when I realise the painkillers definitely aren’t in here, but something else is missing too.
My favourite cobalt-blue one piece lingerie set.
Irritation fills my body like a kettle full of boiling water, making all reasonable thoughts escape my mind, only being replaced with ones driven by annoyance.
I may not have a wardrobe full of lingerie, but there is a decent selection in my underwear drawer, and he had to go and take my favourite one. He’s already taken my privacy, my security and threatened my friend’s body parts. He didn’t need to take my favourite set, too.
As heat fills my body, driving me to react, I consider my best revenge plan. My usual tactic is to sit in my home library and read my problems and feelings away, but he tempts me to get into mischief. To do something rebellious and naughty.
I don’t know if he’s even watching me, but I’m willing to take the risk and act like he is, because it’s the only way this will work.
Jealousy drove him out of the shadows before, I can only hope it will drive him out of the shadows once again.
I grab my second favourite lingerie set, a sky-blue two piece, and get changed from my sweats into the set. The lace only offers a slight barrier for my naked body, but if a person is close enough, each inch of my skin is visible through the lingerie.
Grabbing my dead phone and my vibrator, I take it to the hallway and stand in front of the large hallway window. There is a large space here, my Nana used to have a small table and chairs placed in front of the window for my grandparent’s evening chess game, but now it’s just an empty space. No blinds or curtains cover the window; it’s completely visible 24/7. I never felt the need to cover a window that looks out onto my own backyard, with no neighbours nearby or within view.
It’s the perfect spot for him to watch me.
I sit in front of the window as I look out into the darkness, unable to even pick out the border of trees surrounding my house. Holding my phone in front of my face, I put forward my best acting skills and pretend I'm on facetime to Clark. He’s the only person I can use in this situation and while I may be putting him in danger, my caring thoughts aren’t in control right now.
I laugh and flirt and tease the blank screen staring back at me, hoping I’m doing a good enough job. I give my best ‘fuck me’ eyes and bite my lip, mouthing words that don’t even make a coherent sentence. I play with my long blonde hair, twisting the ends and flicking it over to one side, making sure my chest is fully visible.
Propping my phone up against the window, I put it at an angle that gives a whole view of my sitting down body. Feeling the wetness dampening the fabric of my panties, I spread my legs wide and start touching myself over my panties. Circling my clit, I pant with each movement, arching my back and throwing my head backwards as arousal engulfs my body.
Not wanting to finish too fast, I make sure to take it slow, teasing myself with each touch to build up pleasure. My left hand lightly pinches my nipple through my bra, sending jolts of pleasure down to my pussy.
I audibly moan as the euphoric feeling takes over my body. My senses feel numb as satisfaction builds inside of me. It feels so good that I almost forget that I’m meant to be putting on a show and not just touching myself for an orgasm.
Breathlessness takes over me and I need to take a second to catch my breath. I stop touching my clit and grab my hot pink vibrator. Flicking it on, I let the vibrations fluctuate in my hand, letting the anticipation build within my core.
I set it to the lightest setting, not wanting to come as soon as it touches me. I’ve worked myself up so much that it won’t take long for me to reach my climax. I need to take it slow and hope there are eyes burning into me from beyond the tree line.
The vibrator lightly skims my clit, and I jolt in response. My nerve endings are immediately fluttering with anticipation as they crave more friction. My body tells me to push myself over the edge but my mind is telling me not to, else this’ll all be for nothing.
Not trusting myself to hold out until I pull a reaction out of my stalker, I place the vibrator below my clit onto my folds, making sure it looks like I’m trying to orgasm, but allowing myself to hold out for some sort of acknowledgement.
As vibrations flow through my body, I allow my head to fall back and enjoy the moment. Treating myself to a few light taps on my clit, I gasp at the sudden shock each time. My body is light with bliss, edging myself to get the full extent of my own pleasure.
I feel high with erotic satisfaction, completely unaware of my surroundings when my phone falls face down and makes me jump and shut my legs. My heart feels like it leaps out of my mouth and I have to centre myself to calm my breathing.
If a falling phone is enough to scare the living shit out of me, maybe I shouldn’t be playing games with a stalker.
While that thought is somewhat logical; it’s too late. As I sit in the exact same position I started in, the lights in the house suddenly all turn off in unison. I can’t see a single thing as the house sits in complete and utter darkness. The switch box is downstairs inside the house and realisation smacks me in the face like wind during a tornado…I’m no longer alone.
Suspense grasps me by the throat and makes it impossible to swallow as I sit half naked, frozen in position. I tell my body to get up and run to my bedroom, to find a flashlight and flick the switch board back on, but hot breath speaks into my ear before I can move.
“What’s that saying, little snowflake? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
I freeze in fear as the low, husky voice speaks so close into my ear, it’s now imprinted into my brain. There’s a hint of an accent, but I’m unsure what, and before I can even ask, a piece of cloth is placed over my eyes and tied at the back. The room is already pitch black, but covering my eyesight lights a flame of arousal inside of me.
Both my arms are suddenly placed behind the bottom of my back and thick, rough rope is tied around them, securing them in place. I can’t move, and even if I tried, I’d probably fall flat on my face. Instead, I freeze in fear, letting my fate take control.
“Who were you on call to? Hm?” His low voice sends shivers through my body as goosebumps erupt all over my skin.
I shake my head, unable to form words as I attempt to tell him no one, but he can’t see me.
Suddenly, warm hands touch my waist and grab my panties, yanking them down and off my body. My legs are pulled apart and my pussy is on full display, but the darkness gives me an extra layer of dignity.
I feel heat behind me as my back meets a clothed chest. Legs are placed outside my own and a hand snakes down towards my open legs. “Who were you showing this perfect pussy to, Pria?” Touch meets my folds as his large fingers stroke up and down. His other hand lightly pinches my nipple, making them pebble from the invasion.
“No one,” I barely squeak out, embarrassed by my own attempt.
“I thought my previous warning was enough to convince you that no other man is allowed this.” A thick finger sinks inside me and a moan escapes my lips. His slow thrusts feel sensual and satisfying but I crave more.
Warning signs are screaming inside my mind, but my pleasure screams louder, as they block them out.
“It was,” I gasp. “There was no one on the other end.”
His finger stops moving for a second and I groan at the loss. “So, what was it for?” He questions, but I’m too embarrassed to answer, so I stay silent. “It was for me.” He states matter-of-factly as he catches on. “You put on a fucking show for me, didn’t you, little snowflake?”
I thrust myself towards his hand in hopes of him continuing, but he moves it further away.
“Tell me the truth and I’ll continue.”
“Yes, it was for you,” I confess. Heat blooms in my cheeks at my own embarrassing confession.
