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Is this the right way to go about it? The fuck not.

But I’ve never prided myself on my sanity.

So, remember when I said no sex until she fesses up the truth?

Yeah, well, fuck me.

Elara has made it her mission to walk around looking like a stripper, to torment me.

Her body is a weapon and she wields it to perfection.

She survives in tube tops that barely stay in place as the heft of her luscious tits weighs the fabric down, forcing her to adjust every waking hour, making a gigantic noticeable dent in my resolve.

A few days ago, she bent forward, the movement giving me the front-row seat to the exotic view of her cleavage, her tits—so fucking full and bouncy and succulent—giving me a massive hard-on which I tried to hide by placing a pillow on my lap.

The other night, I had to forcibly rip myself off her when I woke up to find my hard cock nuzzled close to the crack of her arse.

She was grinding on my dick. Like a sex hungry maniac.

And now, I am busy making myself a cup of coffee, when she stalks in my direction, the sight of her smooth, milky white legs on full display.

Her long hair swings as she lifts her hands to put the locks in a ponytail.

No longer reticent, she is loud with her intentions without having to say them.

She wanted to break me, she wanted to push me to the edge, to unravel whatever restraint I was holding on to. And I could feel it, how deliberately she tested my limits, how openly she challenged me.

And yes, I wanted her, wanted her with a kind of intensity that made me reckless. That made me want to fall to my knees and worship her body more than anything, but I wasn’t going to.

Because I craved her soul with the same intensity as I craved her body.

The pink hair tie falls from her hands, landing a few inches too close to my feet.

I should’ve been prepared.

But fuck, for when she bends down, her arse rubbing against my clothed dick, my self-control gives way and I groan.

“Stop it, Elara.” My hand gripping the curve of her waist to push her away but they stay immobile, going rigid against my will.

“Stop what?”

“This.” I growl, prying my hands away from her seductive curves. “I gave you three weeks, but I need them too.”

“Sergei.” She turns around, her expression no longer playful as she reads the room, the darkness swirling around me.

“I’m not bartering my soul for a locked door full of secrets.”

“You’re acting like a child, Sergei.” She counters, a scoff full of disbelief rushes past her lips, her hands resting on her waist with defeat before she peers down at the floor.

“When I have you, I’m having all of you.”

She called me childish, but that was the most mature shit that ever came out of my mouth.

“So, hide for the remaining fourteen days but on day zero, I’m taking you!” I growl, my hand coming around to lift her head.

The gentle motion is a stark contrast to my rough, infuriated voice as I hold her gaze.

She gulps, her tongue darting out to wet her quivering lips, her green eyes having a glossy sheen to them, trying impossibly hard to stop the inevitable tear from falling.