A place to stay

"Good looking and good cooking. Can one be more perfect?"

I sit on one of the bar stools and impatiently watch Tom preparing dinner. After I agreed to stay at his, I waited for his shift to end and here are we now. I haven't eaten all day and whatever he cooks smells way too delicious.

He, on the other side, turns back to face me and giggles, holding the frying pan and the wooden spatula. The view is a sight for sore eyes. And how I was dumb enough to believe he's not my type? He's pretty much everyone's type.

"You know... I'm not that perfect as you say," Tom mumbles and turns back to the stove but I don't complain. The green loose tank top he wears reveals to me enough of his both sides.

"You don't see what I'm seeing," I quietly purr, but judging by his awkward coughing, he heard it too.

"So... how did our date go?"

"Huh?"

"You know, last night's date."

"Oh... that." I shift in my place as the memory of last night, along with the nagging stinging between my legs remind me that whatever happened really happened and it wasn't just a dream.

"So? Too much to tell or too intimate to tell?" Tomas interrupts the ashamed silence I have fallen into and slides a dish in front of me.

"What's this?"

"I call it 'spaghetti a la Tomas' or in other words, whatever I have in the fridge," he loudly announces the dish, with hand on his chest in a pretended pride as if he's cooking for Gordon Ramsay.

"Well, it smells great."

"Thank you, thank you," Tom bows down in courtesy and I laugh. Just a moment of pure freedom and happiness. 

I drool over the mouthwatering dish while waiting for him to take his and join me for dinner.

"So? Do I have to pull the words out of your mouth or?" he digs his fork and swirls it around the spaghetti.

"Why do you insist on knowing?"

"I... I need to prepare myself if it didn't go well. And judging by the fact you're here and not at his, I suppose it didn't go well."

"Prepare yourself for what?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and watch Tomas questionably. He, on the other hand, pretends to not see me staring at him by leaning over the dish.

"So?" I ask again, leaning back in the stool and crossing my arms, making sure that Tom hears my question.

"Mal..." he sighs then leaves the fork and looks at me, "I don't know how to explain it so you don't get the wrong idea of him."

"What are you playing? His wingman? I'm pretty sure I got the right idea about him already. He's way older than me and has a suspicious big income. When I asked him what he works, the closest I could get to an answer was 'a businessman'. I don't want to have anything in common with him." I blurt out everything, pissed off at Tom for pressing me to tell him how the evening went and by the fact he sides with Viktor.

"It's not that easy... It's not that easy to get away from him."

"Well, he agreed to not bother to contact me ever again."

"Do you like him?"

"I... I don't know," I sink in my seat as Tomas strikes the question. Viktor is a handsome man and was nothing but gentle with me. I have never been treated like that. Only if he was a few years younger...

"Yes or no?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just answer. Do you like him?"

"Maybe? I really don't know. He is a likeable man..."

"Listen, Mallory..." Tom calls me by my full name and I shiver. He never does that. "Viktor is a man with connections. Strong connections. You can't just escape from him like that. And if he finds out you're here, he'll most possibly get insane."

"He'll get insane? I'm no one's property, Tomas! I don't want to listen to this, neither I want to talk about Viktor! I made the mistake to go out on dinner with him once, but I will not repeat this mistake. I made myself pretty clear that I don't want him." I cut, obviously raged and tired of this discussion. For the past week, all I hear is 'Viktor this, Viktor that' or hear and see Viktor himself.

"Did you sleep with him?" I choke as I was just swallowing a mouthful of the spaghetti as Tom kills me with this last question, staring challengingly at me with hands lying locked on the kitchen island in front of him. I feel like I'm in some kind of interrogation room.

"W*...ter," I manage to cough intermittently, as I'm really suffocating.

"Jesus, Mal!" Tom jumps out of his chair and runs behind me, then pats my back until I cough out the bite that almost killed me.

"Geez, thanks," I thank him, thankful I can breathe again.

"I take this reaction as a 'yes'."

"Will you stop?"

"You don't understand the seriousness of this situation. Just answer me, so I can know what to do."

Tomas doesn't look at me. He pretends to be washing the dishes and this pisses me off. He either knows more than he tells, or I missed something.

"Yes, I had sex with him! The evening was just great until he told me how old he is. He treated me well and was a real gentleman! Yes, I like him, but nothing will work out of this, because it's impossible! Do you want to know anything else?!" I can't hold myself anymore and frantically scream at Tomas. Who knows, maybe this will finally make him drop off this topic.

"Better be thankful you're seeing this side of him."

"Oh, fuck off! And what about you?! How do you know him?! Why are you so afraid of him?! Huh?!"

"This is something that doesn't concern you."

"Well, the fact I had sex with him doesn't concern you either, but you insisted on knowing!"

"It does concern me, Mallory!" Tom throws the frying pan in the small kitchen sink and the sharp noise startles me, along with him shouting back at me as he faces me. What's going on here?

"And why is that?! Why are you so afraid of him?!"

"Because he made it pretty clear you're his! And I'm a dead man walking for bringing you to my house!"

"He made it pretty clear?! Who is he?! Your boss?!"

"No, Mallory! But I was supposed to take care of you, not giving the wrong idea of fucking you!"

"Jesus. You were supposed to take care of me? Does he pay you to keep an eye on me?! This explains a lot. Thanks for the clarification," I defeatedly raise my hands and walk out of the kitchen and upstairs to the room I'm supposed to sleep in, slamming and locking the door behind me.

"Mal, come on. Open the door."

"Go away," I shout.

Childish of me to do this. Not only doing it, but I'm not even in my own house. I'm thankful to Tom for giving me a place to sleep, but this dinner came too much to me.

"Mal, if you don't unlock the door I'll kick it down. I'll count to 3."

"Do whatever you want. It's not my door anyway."

"Okay Mal, listen. I'm sorry. Just open the door. We'll talk about this, I'll answer your questions. Come on."

"All of my questions?" I ask, peeking through the door as I slightly open it.

"All of them."

"You promise?"

"Mhm," Tom only nods and I open the door, letting him in. Next thing we sit on the edge of the bed and he takes my hands in his.

"Mal... I'm sorry. I'm not forcing you to be with Viktor. You just need to understand that it's important for me to know what happened. He doesn't take 'no' for an answer and sooner or later he'll reach out to you. Finding out you're with me puts both of us in danger."

"In danger?! What's he?! The big bad mafioso? The underworld boss?! This is nonsense!"

"No, no. He's not any of that. But he's... influential. And know some types of people."

"So what do you suggest me to do?! Emigrate to another state?! This is ridiculous, Tom! I won't be a part of any of this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to sleep."

"O... of course." Tom leaves my hands and I get up off the bed, waiting for him to leave so I can undress. I feel totally drained off from all this bullshit and all I crave is some sleep.

"Good night," he whispers leaving, just slowing down a little at the doorstep, then turns off the lights.

"Night."

                           ***

"Heyyy, good morning! You're up so early! Are you any better today?" Tom chirps greeting me. His otherwise melodic and pleasant to listen to voice stabs in my brain.

"Hmph," I grumble, crawling through the kitchen. I always envied the people who can be so fresh early in the mornings. What's the secret? How do they function properly before noon? Such existential questions.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, please," I drag myself to the kitchen stool and throw myself dead on the cold kitchen island.

I couldn't get any sleep at all. So much for craving it. I tossed and turned. I got up several times to grab a glass of water. I scrolled down the whole newsfeed on Instadram. Nothing made me fall asleep. In the end, I blamed it on the fact I'm not in my own comfy bed.

"What time is it?"

"6 AM. Here's your coffee," Tom slides a big warm white mug in my hand.

"Ugh, thanks. Why are you up so early?" I grab the mug like a drowning man clutches at a straw.

"I always get up at 5:30 AM, so I can do my morning training, then have coffee and breakfast."

"What kind of a psycho wakes up at 5:30?!" I complain.

"Me, obviously," Tom chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. "Are you hungry?"

"God, no. I just want to die."

Ding-dong.

"Huh? Do we expect someone?"

"No. At least not this early. Stay here."

Tom grabs one of the kitchen knives and steps slowly to the entrance door and this gives me goosebumps. Who opens the door holding a big ass knife?! Maybe he really is afraid of the fact I'm here and Viktor may understand it. This is so messed up.

I hear the door opening, then the confused voice of Tom and then the door slamming shut. I grab my phone in case I need to dial 911 and step slowly. I walk deadly quiet, I don't breathe, I don't blink. I just get really slowly to the door and peek through the peephole. What the..?!

I immediately recognise the shining bald head of my boss. Dressed in another one of his awful shirts with flower print. What is he doing here?! And so early?! 

I see Tom angrily gesticulating and Larry is not too calm either. I press my ear to the door in an attempt to hear something, but the massive door prevents me from eavesdropping. Shit.  

"My room!" I think to myself and bolt upstairs and to the room it was given to me by Tom. The window is watching the street so I might catch a word or two.

I slowly lift the window and make sure they don't see me. 

"Jesus, Tomas! How can you be so stupid?!"

"Yeah, and what was I supposed to do?! Leave her sleep on the street?!"

"It's none of your concerns! Do you know what the possible consequences could be?! What do you want?! To be found dead and chopped in the lake?!"

"Oh for God's sake! Stop watching criminal movies! And go away, you woke up the neighbours! We'll see each other at work."

And then Tom enters the house. I hear the slammed door. I hear his raging stamping. I hear a loud thump and a frightening, enraged, inhuman scream.

"T-Tom?" I step slowly, carefully. I stretch my hand to his tensed back as he leans on the kitchen island with his back turned to the door. "Tom, is everything alright?"

I don't get an answer, not one put in words. What I get is the tomato-red face of Tomas staring at me. In one quick second, he swirls and faces me, towering over me.

"Tom, please... Talk to me," I beg and grab both his hands in mine.

"How much did you hear?!" he speaks through teeth.

"Enough to know it was about me..." I shyly admit whispering and shifting my eyes from him. "Why was Larry here?"

"It doesn't matter, I'll take care of it," Tom sighs, but under his furrowed brows I see his eyes turn almost black from anger.

"Tom, I don't want to cause you any problems. I- I will leave," I let off his hands and step back, after all, it's me who got into this mess and Tomas has nothing to do with it.

"Don't be stupid, where will you go?!" he shouts at me.

"I'll call Viktor, it's what this whole situation is about, isn't it?" I cross my arms.

"But do you want to do it?" Tom asks concerned, the angry tone of his voice disappeares.

"No, but it's the mess I've created, you see? I must fix this and if he's as scary as you say, I don't want to put you in danger," I sigh. "I still don't understand why everyone is so afraid of him, but if I've got on his good side, maybe I'll manage to fix this mess?"

"He'll most probably kill you," Tom says looking away from me. 

"Why would he kill me?! All we had is one night together!" I gesticulate angrily in the air.

"Because it's who he is. He claimed you as his and the fact you gave yourself to him is enough for him. Sleeping with him is like he's marking you. You're his and if you try to resist him, you'll most probably end dead."

"Shut up! I'm not his property!" a loud slap fills the air. My hand lands on Tom's face automatically, without me realising it. "Oh my... I'm sorry, Tom," I whisper an apology and brush the reddish palm mark on his left cheek.

"Mallory," he hisses my name and grabs my hand, pressing it to his face.

"Tom, I- I'm really sorry--"

"Do you want to be with him?" he asks again, still squeezing my hand.

"N-no," I stutter. "Tom, this hurts..." 

"Then you're staying here," he announces, even orders while pulling me next to him and next thing I know, I'm trapped between the kitchen island and Tomas's body.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I whisper and look at his face. His brows are furrowed, his eyes shine in black, his lips are straightened in one thin line and his breathing is heavy.

"You will stay here, Mallory. I'll make sure you're safe," his breath brushes the skin of my face and the familiar mix of mint and sweet perfume fills my nostrils.

"I..." my breath hitches in my throat, as Tom leans closer for a kiss.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispers in my ear and places a kiss on my neck. Then another one, and another one, tracing a line from my collar bone and up to my jaw. "Should I stop?" he whispers again.

"N-no," I manage only to stutter as he lifts me to sit on the kitchen island. "Tom, I..."

"Should I stop?" he asks once more while nestling between my legs.

"No, don't," I pull him closer to me for a kiss by grabbing his T-shirt and locking my legs on his waist.

"I'll keep you safe, I promise. For as long as you want... and even after that," he keeps whispering while taking off my panties and lifting my work uniform. I lean back and close my eyes, I feel both turned on and embarrassed. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

And a moment later I feel him inside me. It feels good, yet it still stings.

"Ouch!" I complain and Tom stops.

"Should I stop?" he asks again.

"No, stop asking that," I say and lie back on the kitchen island. And he continues.

First, he's slow and tender but with every thrust it gets harder and deeper as if Tomas tries to let off the anger.

The roughness of Tom turns me on. It feels much better than it was with Viktor, it feels less wrong. I let a satisfied moan escape deep from my body and feel my core tighten around Tom. Tension builds inside me and I feel my liquids dripping down. Is this how an orgasm feels?

"Hell," Tom hisses while plunging his fingers in my thighs.

I feel on the verge and take a grip of the edges of the wooden island, but another thrust or two and Tom pulls out.

"No, God, don't stop," I shamelessly beg and hear a loud growl, then two fingers slam inside me while warm liquid spills over my belly.

He works me masterly with fingers and the tension comes back building inside me.

"Oh, goodness!" I shout as everything goes black. My back arches and my insides convulse. "God," I sigh again satisfyingly and cover my face with hands. I feel so embarrassed I'm dying.

"Are you alright?" I hear Tom's voice.

"I... I need a moment," I whisper. How am I supposed to look at him after this?

"Hey, look at me," he tenderly whispers, "It's alright, okay? Nothing to be ashamed of." 

I open my eyes and stare at the latte-painted ceiling. What did just happen?

"Hey? Is everything alright?" Tom asks me again.

"I- I think so. Yes, actually. It's alright," I say and try to calm myself, then hop down from the furniture. "I should go wash myself," I shyly murmur.

"Yeah, I've created some mess," Tom sheepishly grins at me, scratching the back of his neck. "Hurry up though, our coffees got cold."

"Uh, sure..." I say and hurriedly walk to the bathroom.

What a messed up morning.