XXX: 18+ Themes below

Laughter bubbles up inside me. Of all the clothes he could have bought for me, he chose these ugly ones. Don't get me wrong, I'm not against second-hand clothing, but these look like they've been worn for a decade.

The style is far from my preference, as well. Everything is black - a massive coat and pants. There's also a buttoned long-sleeve shirt, which I suppose I have to wear under the coat.

Aiden may think he's clever, but I'm going to show him who he's messing with.

Emerging from the bathroom in my original outfit, I make my way back to "Ms. Fake Eyelashes."

"Hey babes, do you have any scissors?" I inquire.

She gives me a scrutinizing look. "No... But let's say I did, hypothetically speaking. Give me one good reason why I should give them to you."

I smile, grateful that she did not give me any bitchy comeback.

"Look, I can't say," I put on my best sad face with teary eyes, "But I really need your help. You're one of the prettiest and kindest people I've met so far."

She eyes me, attempting to detect any suspicions. After a moment of consideration, she reaches into a blue-dotted square box labelled 'Stationery' and hands me a pair of scissors. Without another glance my way, her attention returns to her laptop.

Right now, I wish I could be her rather than being stuck working with Aiden.

"Thank you," I say with a grateful bow, I repeat again, "Thank you."

Although my response might seem somewhat childish, I catch a smile forming on her lips from the corner of my eye as I head back to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind me, I strip down to nothing but my underwear and bra. Then, I take out the pants from the bag.

It's time for me to become the world's greatest fashion designer.

I cut the legs until they're only a few inches above my kneecaps, sitting on the floor to carefully trim away the excess threads.

I don't care how long it takes to do all this; after all, he, the devil himself, is the reason I'm here in the first place.

When I finally put the pants on, the waist is so big that it drops back down. Does this guy think I'm that fat? I only weigh 70 kg! And that's mostly because of my height.

An idea pops suddenly into my head.

I grab the scissors and carefully cut a small hole at the front of the waistband. Then, I cut the elastic and quickly tie the two sides together in a knot.

Looking in the mirror, I realize how ridiculous the pants look on me, but I don't have a choice.

Thankfully, when I put on the long-sleeved white shirt, it's not too big. After buttoning most of it, I decide to leave the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of my cleavage.

Then, I put on the coat as well without buttoning it.

Have I emphasized how ugly the coat looks?

Excited to see his reaction, I quickly clean up the mess I've created, throw it away, and place my original clothes back into the bag he gave me. It's time to face the devil.

After picking up my handbag, I unlock the door and walk back to the office. This time, I don't need to do anything; he has it already open.

When I enter the room, his eyes snap to mine, and I see fire and electricity dancing in them.

I hear the door automatically close behind me.

"Are you crazy?" he says, drawing out the words. He starts moving toward me, and his hand rapidly wraps around my arm. He grips so tightly that his fingernails begin to dig into my skin, causing me pain.

Yep, he's definitely enraged.

"Sorry, I don't know anyone with that name. My name is Aaliyah Royalty though. Nice to meet you."

I try to pull my arm back, but in response, he tightens his hold, making me wince.

"Fifty-nine minutes you were gone. I had the whole security and everyone in this building searching for you." His eyes bore into mine, trying to shoot some imaginary daggers into my soul.

I just smile. This is the Aiden I know. Every time he gets scared that something bad might have happened to me, he gets angry. But I know that it's not a bad kind of anger, and it's not directed at me. It's just a natural reaction that shows he's scared, scared of losing me or seeing me in pain without knowing what to do.

"Don't fucking smile. I'm furious and I've had enough of your childish behaviour and games." He increases the pressure on my arm, and I wince even more, louder this time. He knows he's hurting me, and he knows it's going to leave a bruise, but that doesn't stop him.

Despite the pain, I move closer, pressing my breasts against his chest, eliminating any distance between us.

My eyes wander to his mouth without conscious thought. Then, I gaze back into his eyes, finding him intensely staring at me with a mixture of anger and lust.

As I stand on my toes, a surge of fiery determination courses through me, and I capture his lower lip between my teeth. The taste of his skin, a blend of bitterness and familiarity, floods my senses, and for a fleeting moment, I feel in control.

In less than a millisecond, Aiden's response is fierce. His hand darts to my hair, his grip unrelenting, and the sharp pain jolts tears to my eyes. Yet, I hold my ground, our eyes locked in an electrifying duel. Neither of us is willing to yield to the other.

His lips, marked by desire and frustration, claim mine with an urgency that sends my heart racing. The kiss is unyielding, intense, and chaotic, like an explosive storm at sea. Teeth clash, mingling blood with saliva, a blend of passion and aggression. Each pressure of our lips against each other is a testament to our tumultuous history, a rollercoaster of emotions, love and contempt.

Despite the internal turmoil, I remain resolute, pushing against him to break free from the kiss's intoxicating hold. But Aiden, captivated by my resistance, groans with hunger, and our lips clash once more, the intensity never relenting.

I pull my head away, my anger and frustration bubbling to the surface, and my hand instinctively raises to slap him. But he's too quick, grabbing my hand with a disapproving tut. "Bad girl," he rasps, his voice filled with dominance.

In a provocative gesture, he inserts two of his fingers into my mouth, urging me to suck on them. Instead, I respond with defiance, biting down forcefully.

His jaw clenches, and I hear the grinding of his teeth as he reacts to the pain. "Very. Bad. Girl," he emphasizes, his tone low and threatening.

I try to escape his closeness, but he corners me, trapping me with both hands on either side of the table. My heart races and a whirlwind of emotions and desires surge within me. I stand there, feeling a tumultuous cascade of longing from my mind to my heart, down through my chest, and pooling in the depths of my inner thighs.

His lips draw near to mine, and I instinctively turn my head, denying him access. "As I recall... Number five on your list specifically states: 'no sexual relationship between Aiden and Aaliyah.'"

"Fuck that bullshit." He tries to bring his lips back on mine and again, I move. With confusion written on his face, he stares, wanting so badly to kiss me.

"That bullshit is what I'm going to follow till I stop working with you. If for a second you thought that I wanted you, then friend, you are wrong." I neutrally look at him, trying to conceal the impact he has on me.

"Prove it," he demands, seeing through my attempt to deceive him. I shake my head, unable to muster a convincing denial, my voice already betraying me.

"Prove it to me, and I'll leave you."

I reluctantly lower my gaze, my curiosity piqued. "How?"

"We're going to play a game," he says with a hint of wickedness in his eyes. "I'm going to kiss you. But you can't respond. No, moving closer, no moaning. Just stay still."

Given little choice, I nod, and his lips reclaim mine once more. His kiss is a delicate dance, a masterful blend of desire and restraint. It's as though he's painting a masterpiece with each brush of his lips. The taste of coffee, mint, and an alluring combination of fruits envelop us as our mouths collide.

This kiss isn't possessive or demanding; instead, it's a gentle exploration. Every stroke of his lips against mine feels like a slow, sensual symphony, and I'm an eager audience. I long to pull him closer, to savour this intimate connection. The world outside the kiss fades away, leaving only Aiden and me, caught in a tantalizing embrace.

His hands, seemingly guided by an invisible force, trace sensuous circles on my back, each caress sending shivers through my body.

I'm on the edge of losing control as my hand instinctively rises to reach for him. But the smugness that creeps into his kiss reminds me of our agreement. Reluctantly, I lower my hand, my fingers aching to feel more of him.

"Please, Aiden," I whisper, my voice tremulous and yearning. He doesn't need further encouragement. His lips part from mine, embarking on a seductive journey down my neck, leaving a trail of electric tingles. The sensation intensifies as he moves to my collarbone, his subtle nips causing my breath to hitch.

His hands, firm yet gentle, explore my ass. He squeezes it softly, the touch igniting an intense longing within me. Then, a little firmer, he smacks it. I gasp at the sudden sting, his unexpected action fueling the fire within.

Unable to restrain myself any longer, I pull his head closer to lock his lips onto mine with a fervour that betrays the rules of our forbidden rules.

He and I both knew I would fail this test, regardless of how long it took to break me.

The kiss takes on a new intensity, its tempo shifting to a fast and aggressive rhythm. His lips devour mine, biting and demanding, their dynamic energy crushing me with the force of his desire. The bristle of his stubble brushes against my skin, bruising me raw.

I can't help but moan loudly, the sound escaping me without restraint, and he responds with a guttural groan, kissing me even harder.

But the ecstasy is short-lived. He acts without my permission, one hand fisting my hair and the other closing around my throat. Our eyes lock in an unbroken gaze, his hold on my throat tightening, causing me to gasp for air.

"What do you want, Aaliyah?" His eyes delve into mine, a silent plea lurking within their depths, begging me to speak, to answer.

"Anything," I gasp out, feeling the ache not just from sleep deprivation but from waiting for him to give me more, to push me further.

He releases my throat, granting me precious oxygen before reclaiming it. His teeth sink into my lower lip, making me whimper.

I break our kiss, panting. "Please," I implore, desperate for more.

His forehead suddenly furrows, his eyes widen, and he suddenly withdraws, as if I were a toxic gas, as if being near me would lead to his death.

"Get out," he snaps, his tone cutting through me.

He makes his way to his seat without looking at me, wiping his hands on his pants and attempting to flick off imaginary specks of dirt from his shirt.

My eyes widen, my lips quiver. Did he just try to wipe me off him?

I fight to hold back the tears welling up, my teeth grinding together. "Where should I go? Back home?"

Still not meeting my gaze, he replies, "Go and ask Alena," leaving no room for further questions.

As I step out, his next words reach my ears, "As I said, your home is where I live. After work today, you'll retrieve your things from that cheap hotel you stayed at last night and come with me."

I don't turn, I don't react, I just keep walking, harshly wiping away the regretful tear that has escaped.

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~Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all the support~

Guys...guess my age!

Please, If you don't like how the story is going, don't be rude about it. The title of the story is "Toxicity." I am toxic, I love toxic relationships, so this book will be toxic. If you don't like that, don't bother reading my book.