He left her wet, begging, and aching with need.
Frida couldn't believe it, how could someone leave her like that, so desperate, so undone?
She'd been ignoring his rare texts, each one a cruel reminder of her humiliation.
It was half embarrassing, half fascinating. She had no idea someone could make her want like that, could make her crave with such primal intensity.
To the point of begging.
And now, even in histology class, the memory of his touch haunted her.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily, heat creeping up her neck as she tried to focus. But she still wanted him, badly.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, a subtle vibration that seemed louder than it should have been. She glanced at it and froze.
"Are you mad at me?"
Was he serious?
She scoffed quietly, running her fingers through her ponytail as her pen tapped aggressively against the desk.
Was she mad?
Of course she was mad.
But how on earth could she explain why?
How could she admit she was furious because he had denied her an orgasm?
She groaned.
No. She wasn't going to reply. She'd rather swallow her pride whole than type out something so humiliating.
"Your cheeks are glowing, Frida. Geez, are you okay?" Leah, her seatmate, leaned over and whispered.
Frida forced a smile, nodding while giving her a thumbs up. "Mmhm," she mumbled, but her mind was anywhere but histology.
Later, at her part-time job in the hospital lab, she groaned, her frustration spilling over as she scanned a blood test result.
He consumed her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to focus.
You know what? I'll go to Dubai and forget all about him!
That was it. A clean slate. A distraction.
But later, during their study group session, the topic burned in her chest until it spilled out of her mouth.
"Have you ever been mad at a guy because he pleasured you and then denied you an orgasm?"
The silence that followed was deafening.