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He won’t change. That much is clear. He has to want to change and it’s become obvious that he doesn’t want to. He’s happy being this cold, dead hearted bastard. Refuses to admit he’s got a splinter in his heart that will only fall out once he admits the pain he’s in.
How long has he grieved for his family? Five long years, blaming my father for everything that happened to them.
No. Blaming himself. Lashing out at those around him but thinking deep down that he failed them all. Wanting revenge through me.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. He doesn’t want to admit that love is real. Fine, let him sulk like a little kid. Doesn’t mean I have to go down the same route. I can make my own way in the world, like I always wanted.
I might not have a husband or any money but I’ll have something much more precious. I’ll have a child. A little broken family, that will be all I need.
I don’t need him. He’ll kill my father, I should hate him for that alone.
I lay on his bed and put his pillow over my head, breathing him in. The scent sparks things deep inside me.
I should be afraid right now. I’ve no idea what’s happening out there. I have a gun and a locked door but that might not be enough to protect me. I should be fearing for my life.
Instead, I’m breathing in his smell and remembering everything that’s happened since I first met him.
My mind can’t help but slip into smut. I breathe him in and think of him in this bed, his hands on me, my body reacting to his touch with so much heat I think I might catch fire.
It’s all been so good. Not a single dud moment. Nothing like how I imagined it would be. He knows exactly what to do to turn me on, how far to tease me, how to tip me over the edge. It’s all been perfect, everything I could have hoped for and much, much more.
He won’t change. He won’t admit he loves me. He’ll be cold to me, like my father, distant, like my father. He’ll use me to bring up his child but he’ll never share a life, become a family.
I breathe him in again, my body tingling. Maybe it’s the threat of death, maybe it’s my own fucked up mind, maybe it’s just because I’m in his bedroom. Whatever the reason, I find myself getting increasingly turned on. I picture him in bed with me, his hands sliding down my pants, taking them from me.
The door’s locked. No one’s coming in.
I unbutton my jeans, imagining him doing it. His thick fingers on my panties, ripping them apart. His mouth between my legs, kissing my clit, plunging his tongue into me. Looking up, telling me he loves me. He’s always loved me. Letting down his guard for once in his life. Admitting the truth. He can change. For me. Because of me.
My hand moves into my panties, stroking my soft folds, feeling the wetness forming as I continue to breathe in his scent. It’s like he’s here with me, watching as I do this. I push down my panties, lifting my top, finding my over-sensitive nipples and brushing them lightly. My hips push up of their own accord. I want him in me.
My fingers will have to do. I lick them and then push two into myself, letting out a moan of enjoyment as I picture him watching me, stroking himself as he does so.
My clit demands attention. I move my hand up to ease the throbbing sensation, drawing more moans from the back of my throat. I push up into empty air again, wishing he was in me right now, wanting to feel that sensation of him coming deep inside me, my body tipping him over the edge of a climax so he spurts deep inside me, filling me up with his seed.
I feel myself getting close to an orgasm. I know I should stop but I can’t. It’s like when he touches me. I want to tell him to stop buthe overpowers my sense of reason, my ability to think.
It hits me a moment later. My pussy contracts around nothing, my clit sending waves of pleasure shooting through my body. I let out a groan of pleasure as I collapse back onto the blankets. There’s the rattle of a key in the lock and I’m still scrambling to pull up my panties when it opens. My fingers refuse to obey me so I settle for shoving the pillow between my legs as Alexsei walks in, looking furious.
“This is what you do while I’m fighting for our lives?” he asks, closing the door behind him. “I told you to be ready and you do this?”
I manage to get hold of my panties, slipping them back into place, lifting my ass to pull up my jeans a moment later. “You could have knocked,” I say, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
“My bedroom, my house, my rules.”
“What happened out there?”
“The attack failed. Your father has agreed to a truce. He knows he cannot take me by force. He knows my men outnumber his own. He has failed. It is over.”
“Yet, you don’t look happy.”
“I wanted to kill him. Now I won’t get that chance without provoking another war.”
I climb out of the bed, examining his face. “You genuinely look disappointed. Aren’t you glad you don’t have to kill anyone else?”
He grunts. “You are free to leave.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
