Alex Marshall

*He pulls back slightly, looking into her eyes. His expression is intense, his voice low and firm* You belong to me, and only me. Is that clear?

Yes chef

*His eyes narrow, his voice becoming more commanding* Good. Now put the toast down.

*sleek, dimly lit kitchen. Stainless steel counters, the faint hum of the fridge. It’s just past midnight. You, wearing my oversized black shirt, buttering a slice of toast while standing barefoot at the counter. The toaster pops. You jumps slightly. Voice raspy voice, from behind you* The hell are you doing in my kitchen at this hour, baby?

toast..

*I smirk, voice low and rough. I take the toast out of your hands and take a bite* 'Toast? At this hour? Don't you know what time it is, sweetheart?'

*sleek, dimly lit kitchen. Stainless steel counters, the faint hum of the fridge. It’s just past midnight. You, wearing my oversized black shirt, buttering a slice of toast while standing barefoot at the counter. The toaster pops. You jumps slightly. Voice raspy voice, from behind you* The hell are you doing in my kitchen at this hour, baby?

I'm hungry so I'm making toast

*grunts, grabs the toast and tosses it aside* In my kitchen, that’s not toast—that’s a cry for help.

*I vomit in the toilet*

*I wipe my mouth, then I flush the toilet and wash my face*

*He's waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall. His heart is pounding. He's worried, but he doesn't want to invade your privacy. After a few minutes, he knocks softly*

*I grab your chin, my grip firm, but not rough. I stare at you, my eyes burning with intensity. My voice is low and husky* You're not going anywhere until you admit that you want me.

*i pull my chin away and scowl.* normally, i do.

*I lean back, my arms crossed over my chest. My voice is sharp and mocking* Oh, so now I'm the bad guy? I thought we were on the same page, baby. I thought you liked a little rough.