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33.33% Intoxicating [Rewritten] / Chapter 3: Chapter 3: I think she's having a heatstroke!

章節 3: Chapter 3: I think she's having a heatstroke!

[Warning] I'm serious innocent ones! Turn back now! Things are going to get a little steamy in this chapter! I don't want to be the one who taints your innocent minds! So turn back! This is not for the faint minded!

---Week 1---

She moaned as his fingers found their way wrapped around her waist pulling her closer and closer until there was no space dividing them and even then trying to pull her in closer and closer. Her fingers played around with his hair. It'd be an understatement if one said that she liked it. No. She was absolutely obsessed with his dark locks! She loved the noises he made when she scratched his scalp. Loved the way the brick wall pressed harder and harder against her back as he pushed her harder and harder against it. As he pressed into her and did impossible, magical things with his hands. 

She wanted to kiss him. She needed to kiss him! Last time hadn't been enough. She had to confirm for herself whether or not his lips actually tasted like cherries! How soft they were and how his teeth would nibble at her bottom lip and she would sigh and-- oh Gods. It should be illegal how turned on he made her feel! 

She sighed as he pressed his lips to her neck. As he licked it and pressed his teeth to it. She giggled. It must've been payback for last time. She squealed as he sucked it hard leaving a bruise behind that she would cherish but still hide from teasing eyes.

His hand found its way around the back of her neck and he released her neck and looked up, his dark eyes so much darker. He pulled his head up and played his forehead on hers as they stared into each other's eyes. He kept his head there occasionally looking down to her lips and she his.

Then he moved his knee. The knee that had previously been trapping her against the wall. He moved it between her legs and pulled it up. She moaned. It felt so good. How he moved his knee up and down. She could feel the heat blossoming down there. It was a raging fire and his knee was only adding more fuel to it. Her knees buckled as he moved faster but he caught her in his arms. His big, strong arms. He was drunk on her noises and she was addicted to his hair. This was a drug and it refused to let either of them free. 

Her eyes remained on his. His eyes remained on hers. And then he pulled his head closer. He bent it down and kissed her neck making a line upwards where his lips then found their way hovering above hers. Just close the gap. Just close it! She was leaning in. He was leaning in.

And then the alarm went off.

She shot up swearing and removed her hand from where it had subconsciously found its way into her shorts. She huffed pissed off at the stupid clock and grabbed it throwing it across the room and watching as it connected with the wall and smashed falling down making what could only be described as an utter mess: K.O. 

The noise awoke the little ladybug sleeping on her pillow.

She rubbed her more decent hand down her face in exhaustion and swung her legs out of bed. She glanced at the wall on the clock. Huh. For once, she actually wasn't late.

__________

78 hours. She'd managed to avoid Damian for 3 days and 6 hours. 

But now as she made her way down the halls of Wayne Enterprises to the meeting room almost bumping into the other people making their way to their work stations, she almost panicked. Every step made her one step closer to where he sat waiting in a meeting room. As she passed a group of kids taking a tour - she still didn't get who in their right mind would actually want to tour this place, but hey, she couldn't judge - she heard her name and turned around to find a short man running after her.

He stopped and breathed in and out attempting to catch his breath before he straightened up and smiled. What was his name again? Benjamin? Brandon? Benson?

He held out two piles of documents. "Good morning Miss Dupain-Cheng. I forgot to hand these to Miss Cain and Miss Gordon. Could you please-" the first 'e' dragging on, "give these to them. They'll need it for today's meeting."

She nodded slowly. Ben? Bruno? Bob? Wait--

She smiled. "Sure thing Brian."

His sighed in relief. "You're a life saver." She almost snorted. He had no idea. 

__________

She could feel his eyes on her as she sat down in her seat. She tried so hard not to squirm under his gaze. They still hadn't talked about that night and honestly, she had no intention of bringing it up in the in the first place. But with the way he was looking at her, she had a feeling he did. 

The meeting was slow and boring and she just wished the clock would tick faster so she could go home and take a cold - no - ice shower and then snuggle up in bed and read a good book to get her mind off things. She just wished she didn't have to sit directly opposite him. And she just wished she hadn't had that dream this morning. She couldn't look him in the face let alone the eyes. She couldn't even turn in his direction. 

She plucked at her shirt and glanced up at the ceiling. The air conditioner was blasting at full throttle yet she was still sweating like she'd just finished a 26 mile marathon. Her shirt was sticking to her like skin but she'd covered it up with her blazer. She could feel her throat running dry and took a sip from the water bottle she'd been handed. Then took another. And another. Then changed it to a gulp. When an old man in a Hawaii shirt gave you a black box, you had to refuse it. No matter how magical it was. Because with power came responsibility and with responsibility came prices. And her price was absolute torture.

The water wasn't helping. Her throat was just getting drier and drier. A tap on her shoulder from behind her drew her attention and she slowly swiveled her chair around to come face to face with a concerned looking Barbara Gordon. 

"You okay there kiddo?" she whispered.

Marinette nodded and managed a smile. "Just really hot." Her voice came out more hoarse than she'd intended it to be and Barbara shot her a concerned look before she placed her attention back on the man speaking at the front. 

"Do you have any input on this Miss Dupain-Cheng?"

Marinette almost jumped out of her skin as she quickly swiveled her chair back to face the man speaking. She flushed at the attention she was receiving. All eyes were on her. It felt like she'd just been caught talking by the teacher in school. "P-Pardon? I'm sorry my mind was elsewhere."

He shot her a disdained look. "We were talking about opening up a new cloth factory. Our other ones aren't producing enough and we're losing money."

Her head was pounding and it took her a few seconds to process what he'd just said. "Ah yes. Of course." She cleared her throat unintentionally intensifying the pain, "I think we should wait until next year around autumn." He raised his eyebrow as if challenging her opinion but she ignored it and continued, "If we started it now, we would only lose money. Fabrics like wool, fleece and silk would be more popular around Autumn due to the weather and with the recent rise in the breeding of sheep, wool would be more obtainable. More people would buy it to get ready for Winter and silk works in practically all season due to it's light texture that could be used in Summer and Spring and it's warmth for Autumn and Winter."

He nodded as if approving her statements for a second before he shot her a look. "And why do you suggest we don't build it now? It's spring. We'll have plenty of time to build and open a new factory by the time Autumn rolls up."

She coughed. "Sorry. Excuse me." She coughed again. "Well as you just said, it's Spring. Many families would be out having fun and not many would really like the idea of being holed up in a factory all day when they could be out spending valuable time with their families." She cleared her throat and wiped at a drop of sweat rolling down her neck. He didn't miss this and watched as it rolled further down. She shot him a glare and shrugged her blazer tighter around herself. He shot his eyes back up and cleared his throat.

"Thank you Miss Dupain-Cheng. Your opinion as a fashion expert" she could hear the sarcasm dripping off his tongue at the word 'expert', " has been very valuable."

She nodded and he went back to talking to the others. Asshole. 

Her heart thrummed before it sped up. And for a split second, she felt the room spin before it straightened up and her head focused back on whatever the hell Mr Davis - or whatever his names was - was saying at the front. He glanced back in her direction and she shuddered. Disgusting. 

She let out a quiet sigh that came out in short breaths as it adjusted to her dry throat. Her eyes found the water she'd been longing to drink and she took a big gulp. It wasn't doing jack. She plucked at her shirt again. What would you get when you put Spring heat and mating heat together? A woman sweating so hard she wouldn't be surprised if she found a pool of water at her feet. Her heart was only beating faster and faster which was only pumping the blood around her body faster and only adding to the heat she was already suffering from. She could feel her eyes watering and the screen was blurring. 

She slowly shook her head in an attempt to shake it off. That caught a few eyes. She probably looked crazy right now sweating and breathing so hard some would think she was actually hyperventilating. Was she?

She almost missed the tap on her shoulder again from the back. And the whisper of a frantic Barbara Gordon asking again if she was okay. She almost missed the man at the front stop talking and instead focus his attention on her as her eyes grew droopy. She almost missed it when someone shouted "I think she's having a heatstroke!" and her arms reached quickly for the bottle of water but instead of grabbing it, accidentally tipped it over and watching as the water gushed out along with any hope of her regaining her senses any time soon. And she almost missed it when she felt a pair of strong arms pull her up and saw a glimpse of dark brown hair before her eyes shut completely and she slipped away into the hands of unconsciousness.


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