|| 13. PAIZE 3 ♥ ||
“How about we think about other things..” clasping her delicate hand in his, Omar tried “..like. messages we should read these messages”
Moving her hand to his heart, he left Zaniha’s message unread to parse through the list of other notifications. Reviewing them one by one Omar shared varied tidbits, discussing the topic of each message, speaking to her through the responses, keeping himself and Mohana thoroughly deviated from the recent mention of hard-ness
He widely smiled looking at the next message in the list which was titled: Our Journalist’s Interview. Unfolding the message he murmured to the dainty woman in his embrace “Did you enjoy your meeting with Trissa?”
“Hmm” rubbing her cheek against the fabric of his tshirt, breathing him in, Mohana attempted to snuggle closer
Curling a wavy golden lock around his fingers Omar began parsing through the notes. The observations detailed the time for when Trissa had met Mohana for the first time, the duration they had spent together, flowing into a brief overview of how much the young child had liked the interaction.
The main interview notes began with a description from Trissa on the Sophista editor-in-chief being superiorly intelligent and one of the most beautiful women along with her mom and grand-moms. Mohana had also been titled as the most stylish princess along which the young journalist in making, had highlighted her to be really really really caring.
Parsing the meticulous handwriting Omar halted at the answer for favorite colors: Favorite color is not pink. It is silver. Because Mo’ana has beautiful silver eyes
“Silver. Sure..” Omar grumbled “..if that scripted jerk has anything to do with it, the downtown theaters won’t see another movie release of his”. On a small hum, Mohana’s legs restlessly climbed along his longer denim clad ones, which were crossed at the ankles.
Reading along the answers, he smugly spoke to the beautiful woman reclined on his chest “Did you know the editor-in-chief at Sophista can plan an interview on a variety of subjects? The restriction only exists for a certain designer who has to win at something to even talk to her”
“Yaah” Mohana affirmed, a soft moan accompanying her stand as she dozily shifted to cuddle deeper into him. Hiking her leg higher she halted on the front his jeans, slipping her foot between his legs
Gently easing her knee from its determined establishment, Omar murmured “Now that I have this in written, I highly doubt this is going to work anymore”
Giving him another agreeing “Hmm” Mohana adamantly slid her knee back, settling it atop the jeans zip closure
“We’ll have to discuss this too, when you recover” capturing a few golden wavy strands in his other hand, he shifted her leg to the side, meeting success this time around
Looking back at the screen, the next set of sentences had him frown. He re-read the text on the screen: Mo’ana has another attorney in Sir Gallaghair’s team. This attorney is more handsome than Omar, strongest ever with lots of muscles and really dashing just like Trissa’s attorney. If she wants she can see him everyday, it depends on what Mo’ana needs to discuss
Glancing at the woman who looked exceptionally graceful even in her unwell state, rhythmically breathing on his chest, Omar established a connect from his digi. He ordered on the line “List of all the attorneys at Staoux Media House” in response a tiny moan came from Mohana as she shifted her face slightly
Receiving a verbal confirmation from the other end, Omar returned his focus to the interview notes. The words that followed next, grandly appreciated Soren Rick on being the most good looking superstar. Description of Soren’s strength, his abs, how difficult a six pack was to make, comments on how famous his movies were and how the actor had earned a whole slew of awards, glared at Omar.
Flexing his fingers he grumbled rapid words under his breath. A delish sounding moan from the back of her throat had Omar enquire “You must be dreaming about that man who is so handsome and so hot?”
In complete contrast to his tone, seemingly not having picked the heavy undertone of sarcasm, another of her delicate moans escaped in affirmation, making Omar ball a fist. He growled more to himself than the rosy cheeked woman determinedly glued to him “He’s a scripted jerk. Desperation is a script”
Only on another agreeing hum from Mohana, Omar looked back at the screen. Scanning the attentively prepared document he scoured all the details, getting apprised on an array of subjects: Soren had worked hard to carve strong muscles; Mohana had really liked Trissa’s dress; Omar was very very kind; Indigo had helped Mohana wear the saree for her visit to Sarrata and among other topics, included was information around Mohana’s input on Chanceys, discussion on events and gatherings both Trissa and Mohana planned to attend
Flipping through the entire set of questions, Omar arrived at the scratch paper that had come accompanied with the final notes
His dark spheres halted at the specific sentence: Omar is kind, really kind, very, very .. kind. He ran a thumb on the gap between the words, from where the third ‘very’ had been erased. Reverting to the beginning of the document, he began reviewing the detailed article once over again, his fingers lost in her thick golden mane, twirling the silken strands as Mohana lay snuggled onto him
In moments of the room falling wordlessly silent, her drowsy lashes fluttered open. Shuffling above him she leaned backwards on his arm to look up, hazily gazing into his eyes, she mumbled her complaint “Hm?”
“Hey, you feel like getting up?” Omar whispered unsurely, glancing concernedly at the frail woman whose eyes stared at him in demand
“Noh” her lips formed a pout at the query. Falling back on his chest she shifted against him, attempting to cuddle into his muscular frame. Rubbing her cheek against the black tshirt which lay stretched across his chest, she placed a precarious fingertip on his heart.
Discarding the digital gadget aside, Omar felt for her temperature “I’ll bring you something to eat?”
“Mhm!” moodily mumbling her negation, she staggeringly distanced herself from his chest, deeply frowning at the fabric covering his torso. Inching her knee over his jeans zip, she croaked “Yoo’re ha..rrd!”
Hastily grabbing her leg to pause it’s hike, he tried “The jeans should..”
“And rough! very. rough” interjecting him Mohana declared, this time more as a grievance, emphasizing her dissatisfaction with a shaky pointer finger
Instantly easing his fastened grasp on her thigh, Omar frantically rushed “I didn’t think. but we. you and I. I won’t be rough”
“Noh?” she whispered, cluelessly blinking at his disappearing touch from under her leg
“No. Not at all. Of course not. Never” assuring her, Omar gently slipped his fingers from being entwined in her silken golden hair checking “Better?”
Unable to comprehend his actions, perturbed at the loss of his touch, she acknowledged him with a doubtful frown “Noh”
Her body swayed from being under the influence of strong drugs, but placing her hand on the bed for support, she sat awaiting his next, preferably favorable move. Following to see him hook his thumb on one of the belt loops, perplexed Mohana looked up at the handsome man who now seemed farther, his torso spaced inches from her own. A light shiver ran through her frame making her quiver.
Noticing his arm get propped behind his head, she doubtfully glanced back to the other hand again which appeared same as before, unmoved and still tucked onto the denim loop. Extremely appalled, she looked at her own hands, then lowering lashes to the fabric covering her, she inquisitively felt for its material when she heard Omar enquire “Is it still bothering you?”
Getting distracted from studying the tshirt which was acting as her night dress, her eyes shifted to rove through the black jersey knit clinging onto him. Genuine concern flashed through his eyes but baffled to find that no action had been taken on her reported grievance, she frowned “Isn’t it?”
Straightening on the bed, Omar further increased the distance between them “Right. My bad. I’ll sort it”
Puzzled at him inching away in contradiction to his promissory words, Mohana shyly leaned towards him. Displeased at having been kept waiting for a remedy to the rough situation, she reached to grab his tshirt, willing to tackle the concern herself
Under the covers her legs climbed atop his jeans, restive to get back to cuddling and discussing the knowledgeable legal cases when splashing a dampener on her efforts, Omar fluidly shifted Mohana on the bed. Before she could even feel his touch, he had stepped away from her and their bed altogether.
She opened her mouth to instantly raise her complaint, upset at having been left again, when she heard him check “Do I always hurt you?”
