The caption beneath the photo was simple. [With one sentence, I'm back, no matter how late it is, someone will pick me up.]
Like an obsessed fool, I couldn’t stop staring at her post, even checking the time she shared it.
Three weeks ago, at 2 a.m.?
That day, I was wearing the black stockings personally chosen by Michael. After one glass of wine after another, I was pushed onto the floor covered in candles by him.
He kept teasing me, igniting thunder and lightning that made me go crazy.
But just as he was about to tear off the black stockings, his phone rang. He instinctively tried to turn it off, but upon seeing the message, he quickly pulled away from me.
The desire in his dark eyes instantly disappeared. He didn’t even throw me something to cover myself with and after grabbing his coat, he rushed out.
“I have an urgent matter. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”
The door slammed shut and my desires were crushed in the gap of the door, while he didn’t return for an entire week.
Every day, a report message showed his hectic schedule, as if he was so busy that he couldn't even find time to rest.