Chapter 15 – Wren
I was roaming the hallways that evening, reminiscing on the sex—how good it was. My mind was flooded with thoughts of last night and the crazy thing that happened in the kitchen. I was yet to wrap my head around the fact that I let him fuck me so hard that I had multiple orgasms.
How did he pull that off—making me come with just his mouth and fingers! The man was an expert in pleasing women. And although a part of me knew that I might just be another one of those women he’d fucked without commitment, it still didn’t change the fact that he handled me the way I wanted.
He was rough and vicious, like he’d been holding in all that tension for the longest time. His strokes were relentless, his kiss was hot and breathtaking—literally. At the moment, he gave it to me exactly how my body wanted it; hard and fast.
When he carried me in his arms and fucked the hell out of my pussy, I thought I was losing my mind. The feeling was like none I’d ever felt. His cock was so good the man knew exactly where to hit. His deep thrusts unraveled me in ways I didn’t even know were possible.
Despite all of my attempts to hold my moans back, I simply couldn’t. It was almost impossible not to scream the whole house down with all that much sweetness coursing through my veins. Maybe the sex hit differently because I was fantasizing about him that night already.
But whatever the case, it was an incident that I wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
There was a problem, though. A really big one.
At first, I thought my feelings were nothing but sexual hormones. And that the moment he scratched my itch, I’d return to hating his guts. Well, things didn’t go as expected. It turned out the voice in my head that warned me against making this mistake was right after all.
Now, Val was all that I could think of. But that’s not even the worst part. The worst part was that I wanted more of him now more than ever. It was like I didn’t know what I was missing out on until I had a taste of what he was capable of in bed.
The veil over my eyes was lifted, and now I could see clearly.
His cock was heavenly—therapeutic, even.
He made me feel alive again, made me feel like a woman.
His touch ignited a fire within me that quickened all my senses.
Everything in me came alive, and for some strange reason, I felt refreshed and a little bit lighter.
It was hard to explain, but after the sex last night, something changed inside of me. Val had unlocked something—a feeling that I wasn’t ready to name yet. It scared the shit out of me.
I woke up horny this morning, craving his touch, his kiss, and his hard cock.
All afternoon, I’d been fighting to stay focused, to get him out of my mind.
But the more I tried, the more I failed.
Deep down, I was starting to enjoy these thoughts of him—especially now that he’d given me something to remember.
Every now and then, I’d replay this particular memory over and over again.
Today alone, I’d been wet four times already; I attempted masturbating twice but stopped myself.
Not because I didn’t want to. Hell, that’s what my body craved.
But because I was afraid of that rabbit hole.
I knew that if I went down that path, there’d be no coming back, and things would only get more awkward between us.
I couldn’t bring myself to masturbate each time I thought of him. Besides, I thought it was torture because no one would ever touch me the way that he did. Even I couldn’t match the standard he’d set. Jerking off to the way he handled me would only make me want him more. So why torture myself?
I wondered if he enjoyed me as much as I enjoyed him. I wondered if this was just a one-time thing or the beginning of our sex life. We were, after all, husband and wife.
It scared me how badly I anticipated fucking him again. Even though neither of us said a word after the sex, it was clear that we both were satisfied—shocked. But also satisfied.
How could I want to fuck him again after he ruined my life and stole my future? Why couldn’t I hate him the way I used to? Was that how cheap I was, easily bought over with a cock?
Thousands of thoughts overlapped in my head as I walked through the hallway that evening.
I was minding my own business, thinking of ways to stay sane, when I heard a familiar voice from behind the door ahead. It was Luka’s, Val’s right-hand man, and the voice seemed to be coming from Val’s study.
I should just walk past and continue minding my business. But I couldn’t help myself, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to eavesdrop on their conversation. That way, I could at least hear Val’s voice: that deep, husky voice that always sent shivers down my spine.
With quick glances over my shoulders, I checked to be sure no one was watching. Then quietly, I walked toward the study, and that’s when I discovered the door was slightly ajar.
Curiosity kills the cat, my voice of fear whispered. Don’t go digging unless you wanna find a body.
I ignored the warning but soon realized that I never should’ve.
From behind the door, I watched with wide eyes as Val, crouched before a battered man, jabbed a knife into his neck. My hand flew to cover my lips, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. Val had no remorse on his face, and those steel-gray eyes watched the life drain from his victim’s body.
I didn’t realize there was an empty can on the floor until I accidentally kicked it in an attempt to fall back. As it clanked away, the noise drew Val’s attention, and the moment he looked in my direction, I froze.
My breath hitched in my throat, and my eyes widened in horror. He stood there like a statue, watching me with a flat expression. His eyes were cold and hollow, devoid of any emotion. He looked like a man, but the person staring at me was a monster, one that I had underestimated this entire time.
In silence, I turned around and walked away—I basically ran back to my room with a racing heart.
This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him take a life before. On the night of the attack, I watched him drill four bullets into an assassin’s head. But it was different this time. The man he killed wasn’t an armed assailant. He was a beat-up young man, and he killed him in cold blood.
I rushed into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. Leaning my back against it, I tried telling myself that maybe the man crossed a line—maybe he did something so evil, and Val didn’t have a choice but to end his life.
It sounded so ridiculous in my head, especially because I couldn’t get that horrific image out of my mind. And just like that, the lust I felt for him was quickly replaced by fear and shock.
I remained in my room for the rest of the day, trying to let the incident sink in. Why the hell was I drawn to his shady business anyway? Stumbling upon him in that warehouse was what got me into this mess in the first place.
I didn’t leave my room until the next morning after I made up my mind to confront him about what I saw. Of course, those voices in my head argued all night on whether or not my plan was a good idea. Obviously—and as usual—I ignored my fear.
According to one of the maids, he was in his study, and it took almost every ounce of strength in me to walk head in that direction. I seemed fine and normal as I walked through the hallway. But honestly, deep down, I was afraid of what I’d find behind that door.
What if I walked in on him taking another life? Would I be able to take it? I’d seen enough blood and death during my short time here already. The last thing I needed was another horrific image to add to my collection.
I halted in front of his door, lifted my hand to knock, but paused mid-air. My heart was hammering in my chest as I listened for voices inside. If I heard any, I’d turn around and leave immediately. But all I heard was silence. Meaning, he was probably alone inside.
Instead of knocking, I lowered my hand and grabbed the door handle. Gently, I pushed it, and it creaked open with a slow motion, revealing the man seated at his desk across the cozy space. My eyes fell on the spot where the man had bled to death.
It was clean and sparkly, like there hadn’t been a pool of blood right there hours ago.
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze pinned on me as I walked in, uninvited. I shifted my eyes back to him, clenched my jaw, and wore my fearless expression.
“What are you?” I demanded, my voice firm enough to mask my anxiety.
“Good morning to you, too,” he teased, that signature pesky little smirk lining the corners of his lips.
“I’m serious, Val,” I said, eyes hooked on him. “What the fuck are you?”
He went silent for a second, then replied with that calm voice of his, “You know what I am—a monster.”
I swallowed hard as those cold words struck me like a dagger to the chest. “Why…?” I murmured, weakened by his response. “Why are you so evil?”
“Because that’s what I am.”
“Bullshit.” I folded my arms across my chest.
“You said it yourself; I’m a monster. What else do you want from me?”
“The truth,” I answered, my voice laced with finality.
He snickered, lowered his head, and scratched his forehead.
I stepped forward, my eyes never leaving his face. “I wanna know why you’re what you are—why you do what you do.”
He met my gaze with a flat expression. “Do I need a reason to be a monster?”
“Yes, you do.” I stopped in front of his desk.
“No, I don’t,” he cut me off. “I am an oppressor, Wren. I kill for sport. I traffic people, smuggle drugs, and execute anyone who stands in my way.” His words were cold as ice, his eyes dark and empty. “That’s the characteristic definition of a monster.”
My heart shattered at his response, and although he acted unfazed by my question, there was a subliminal message behind his words.
In his voice, I caught traces of emotions I’d yet to name or explain.
His answer was almost sarcastic, like he said all that because he thought it was what I wanted to hear.