Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 29

KEIRA’s POV

It was a day after my long morning session at Clint’s home.

Natasha and I were having a Game of Thrones marathon. We were both on the L-shaped couch in the apartment and while she was wholly focused on the tv, I was zoned out, thinking about the assignment that was due on Monday. And the worry that I haven’t gotten started on the summaries that I needed to finish. Plus a myriad of other things that eventually made everything on the screen to slowly become a blur.

Actually, that was a lie. The assignments and summaries were a huge distraction from the jarring thoughts about my session with Clint and the fact that I would not see him again until after two weeks. That seemed like torture.

It was a Friday and I did not have much activities going on other than a few classes I had chosen to skip. I glanced at my phone severally, hoping for a text from Clint telling me that he was not leaving anymore. That he had been pulling my legs and he would continue f*****g me to keep my sanity in check.

“When are you going to tell me where you were on Wednesday night?” I heard Natasha ask beside me, shoving a spoonful of ice cream down her throat. I could tell she had been itching to ask me that question, and I had also been itching to avoid it any way possible.

“A friend’s.”

“Hmm mm?” The sound she made was an uncertain one like she did not believe me and I rolled my eyes. “Then why were you not picking up your phone?”

“I did not hear it ring,” I lied through my teeth, not caring if she bought that or not.

It was 10am when I had managed to successfully distract myself from the thoughts of Clint, when a knock came in at the door.

“I am not going to answer that,” I muttered.

Natasha made a tired sound at the back of her throat and pushed herself off the couch, stretching out her limbs. She trudged to the door and opened it as I keep my ears peeled out for the visitor’s voice. Because even if I pretended to keep my attention on the tv, I was curious to know who it was.

“Is Keira in?” A familiar voice asked as I turned around to see who it was. Clint’s frame towered over Natasha at the doorstep.

Shit. What was he doing here?

“Keira, you have a visitor,” Natasha called out to me but I was already on my feet and heading towards the door. I did not miss the look she gave me as she returned to the living room, resuming the movie that played on the tv.

I had a lot of explaining to do later.

Clint’s hands were tucked in his pockets, his second hand dangling my purse in my face. He looked just like he did this morning. Devastatingly good. “You left this at my place,” he said that loudly, I was sure Natasha heard it too.

“Thanks. I did not have any valuables in it so you should not have bothered.” I had totally forgotten about the purse.

He shrugged. “Maybe it was just an excuse to see you before I caught my flight.”

I stood frozen in my spot. Why was he making this harder for me to defend myself to Natasha later? I could already feel her burning gaze boring holes at the back of my head.

Laughing nervously, I snatched the purse from his hands. “What a great joke. See you next time.”

I closed the door hurriedly on his stupidly handsome face with a loud bang. And the minute I did that, I regretted it instantly. Shit. Maybe I should not have done that. He took care of my drunk a*s that night only for me to slam my door in his face as a thank you. And damn I should not have done that to him if I wanted him to still reach out to me after two weeks.

Good going, Keira. You just had to mess things up.

Should I have let him in? That would be more awkward with Natasha here giving me the dreaded look of judgment.

Exhaling deeply, I lean back on the door. Across the room, Natasha raised a brow at me, waiting for an explanation.

“It is not what it looks like,” I began.

“I knew it. I knew it was a lie when you told me you were at a friend’s,” she scoffed. “Brendon and I are your only close friends.”

“In my defense, I was drunk. I do not know what came over me.”

Natasha shook her head like a disappointed mother. “Brendon was sick and worried about you, but you were apparently having a good time at your therapist’s house.”

“We did not have s*x, I swear.”

“Yeah, right. You comfortably lied to my face earlier. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

“Fine,” I said. “You do not have to. Can we just go back to the movie and forget about this?”

Natasha slumped back in the couch and I let out a deep sigh, joining her in the movie. She was not pissed at me, only a bit disappointed.

“We are changing your therapist,” she told me, picking up her tube of ice cream and digging into it.

“We have talked about this, Tasha.”

“Seriously, why will you not get a different therapist? You both are making things harder for yourselves by continuously breaching the client/therapist code of conduct.”

“We are not breaching it. We have not had s*x,” I replied.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

I could not stop thinking about earlier, how I rudely slammed the door in Clint’s face when all he did was just treat me nicely. I had to try to make it up with him before he left.

Then I realized.

I did not have his f*****g number.

How was I supposed to reach out to him if I did not have his number?

Later that night, I finally had the willpower to start working on my pending assignments. I was done in merely two hours. They were not that time exhausting. I had just been procrastinating throughout the day for no reason.

I did not know what to expect from Clint the next time I saw him, two weeks was a long time. Knowing him, he would probably act all collected and calm in the exact way he usually did.

But I knew I owed him an apology.