Page 2 of Carnal Games

Translation: completely out of my league. He even looked older than me, probably in his late twenties or early thirties, which only enhanced his otherworldly appeal and placed him even more out of my reach.

His austere features are what captivated me at first. Jet-black and closely cropped hair in a military buzz cut framing a long and angular face, straight eyebrows slashed over unexpressive eyes, and an equally straight Roman nose with a thin-lipped mouth.

He’s one of those very few fortunate men who are blessed with a hard and angry masculine face that is somehow alluringly handsome.

Even if he wore an expression of a man who is detached from the world, it’s clear he’s in utter command of it. A captivating paradox. Just another thing that deepened my fascination with him.

It was unsettling, preposterous, and thrilling to have such a visceral reaction.

An out-of-body experience, the way he affected me like no human being ever has.

In my head, I’ve crowned him as a perfect and drop-dead gorgeous stranger. One with whom every man in the world pales in comparison. A claim I’m not making lightly or without doing the due diligence. What bigger proof is needed than the fact that the actors I used to fangirl over are now doing nothing for me? I’ve gone from crushing over them to downright wrinkling my nose at them.

And trust me, with how many movies and shows I binge-watch, the list was a mile long.

Those actors’ only flaw? They aren’t Mr. Severe.

He has single-handedly, unknowingly, and ruthlessly kicked them out of the competition.

I wouldn’t call it lust at first sight, but with each day that passed, it evolved into that.

The butterflies in my belly became a zoo every time I visited the park and saw him. I would leave the house with a fear lodged in my throat that today might be the day he’d stop showing up, only for the flames of hope and wickedness to burn hotter at the sight of him in one of his power suits.

Does he not have anything else in his wardrobe?I always wondered every time I saw him.

Today, he arrived wearing a charcoal gray suit that complemented his fair skin with a hint of a tan. I reached the park at the same time he did in his luxurious black SUV.

His expensive car stands out like a sore thumb, much like the man himself.

If I were remotely into cars, I could probably name the brand from looking at the sleek logo. But being at the point I am in my life right now, plus coming from a middle-class family, memorizing brands of top sports cars is the last thing on my mind.

Yes, I envision a grand future for myself like any teenager. However, I’m also practical.

Nevertheless, I all but forgot about guessing the name of his car as soon as he stepped out of it. Stealing all my focus like a blinding sun. I stayed at a distance to watch him shed his suit jacket with his signature gloomy expression.

Next, he undid the knot of his tie, then his cuff links, before rolling up the sleeves of his gray dress shirt. He was methodical and efficient in every step while holding an air of nonchalance.

What a riveting and sexy sight it was.

He’s like one of my favorite shows that I keep returning to binge-watch and can spend the rest of my life watching without losing interest. Each time making me a little bit more addicted.

I’m pretty sure I was drooling as I stared at him.

Just like I did when he strolled into the park and joined the head instructor of the group of young army cadets. The first day, Mr. Severe simply had a conversation with the trainer. The only reason I knew they were old pals was from the friendliness on the other man’s face. Just as quickly as he came, he left. Leaving a big ball of disappointment in my chest.

Yet I visited the next day, and there he was.

In all his brooding glory.

This time, barking orders at the cadets and pushing their limits. My jaw hit the floor when, one day, I caught him showing moves of combat. One second, the young man was holding somesort of weapon, aiming for his face, and in a flash, Mr. Severe unarmed him while twisting the poor guy’s arm behind his back.

Never in my life had I seen such a stealthy motion.

It was that vivid memory that brought me my first orgasm the same night.

It’s dangerous, the game I’m playing with myself.

I’m developing an obsessive crush on a man who has turned me into a stalker. Not a full-blown one, but I’ve definitely ticked a few boxes.