31. Vian
VIAN
Silence weighs heavily, dragging me to the pits of hell.
After three days of tiptoeing around each other, we’re at a stalemate. I expected resistance, but her defenses crack whenever she takes care of me, offering me medicine, wetting a cloth to wash me.
Every time I attempt to leave the bed, she glares at me, so I stay put not to upset her more. While I trap her here, she’s the one holding me captive.
My wounds have healed, and I am regaining my strength. Physically, at least, because my heart lies in tatters.
The last words she said to me run through my head on repeat, pouring acid and dissolving my brain matter. No one needs a love like yours. Me, the least.
I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I love her. I love her so much that I can’t fathom losing her. I wasn’t joking when I said she either stays or she kills me.
Sliding out of bed, I go to the bathroom and stare at my reflection. Pale skin. Dark circles. My body is not as fit as usual, lacking vigor.
Gripping the sink’s edge, I let my head hang, pent-up energy wreaking chaos through my body.
Stepping inside the shower, I pull off the bandages. A crust has formed around the wounds, which is a good sign.
The water cascades down my body, doing nothing to ease my stiff muscles. Bracing against the wall, I stay rooted in place until I sense her. My heart picks up speed, racing in my chest. Every sense is aware of her nearness, sending a thrill through me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, annoyance thick in her voice.
“What the fuck do you care?” I expel a heavy breath, exhausted to my bones.
Our eyes lock, and after three days, the contact seizes my breath. There she is. The love of my life. My woman––under layers of hurt and dejection, she cares. Even if she doesn’t want to.
“I’m sorry,” I say, because hurting her makes me want to do the job myself—end me. All I’ve ever desired was to make her happy. All I’ve ever done is push her past her limits.
My chest rocks with a pant, followed by a sob. I am falling apart, and I don’t care that she sees I am a broken man, falling to my knees with no strength left because I’ve lost her.
On my ass, my arms rest on my knees, face tipped down.
This is the first time I’ve felt so lost, incapable of saving the situation—us.
Fully dressed, she joins me, the water drenching her clothes. She places a palm on my shoulder, and I instinctively look up. Her eyes glisten with fresh tears, and she stretches out her other hand in a silent plea, yanking me back from hell. I take it and straighten.
She squirts some gel into her hands and places them on my chest, reviving everything in me. A low groan rumbles in my throat, her touch feeling like heaven.
So much hurt pulses between us, driving me to offer her a bit of pleasure, to escape this cycle of agony. I don’t ask for permission I won’t get, so I lift her shirt, exposing her chest, the two nipples greeting me like ripe cherries, and I swallow, eager for a sweet taste.
I help her out of her thong next.
Naked, bared to the other, I rasp, “I need you.”
Pressing my mouth on hers, I feed off her moans to sate my starved being.
I back her into the shower stall, kissing and nibbling on every exposed inch, yearning to show her how desperate I am for her.
Sliding on my knees, I lift her leg and hook it over my shoulder. Her sweet pussy greets me, and she sucks in a breath when I press a tender kiss there.
Looking up at her, the truth spills out. “I love you, Zara. Always have and always will, mi sol. If that’s my sin, so be it. Punish me with silence, punish me with death, punish me by never absolving me. It won’t change a thing.”
“Stop talking, please…”
Understanding her silent message, I focus on giving her pleasure.
Lapping from bottom to top, I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue and lose myself in pleasuring my woman as if it’s my life’s sole goal.
Eating her out like I am on death row and she’s my last meal.
I should savor it, but sheer greed and incessant hunger drive me, insatiable for her sweet juices I drink up like it’s mana from the gods.
She grips my hair tight enough to pull some strands out. Her sweet moans coupled with sounds of surrender fire me up and I don’t stop until she’s a mumbling wet mess, coming on my tongue.
I need inside her like my life depends on it, and taking full advantage of her relaxed state, I pin her hands above her head with one hand and guide my cock to her entrance with the other.
Her eyes flutter closed, but I slap my cock against her folds and they burst open.
“Good girl. Eyes on me. Let me look at my life.” I crave her every expression as I own her from the inside out.
It’s a wonder I can stay upright with everything I see in her gaze. Hatred. Love. Confusion—a mix of contradictory feelings tearing her apart.
Slowly I enter her, needing to prolong the sensation as I bury every inch of my cock. She’s so tight and welcoming, and my jaw clenches, the pleasure overpowering me.
I stare at her stomach, thinking of putting a baby inside her, binding her to me irreversibly.
On pure impulse, I splay my palm on her belly, visualizing it taking my seed and growing my baby.
The image turns my already hard as fuck cock into steel, wanting it so much it blinds me, pushing me to cross any barrier.
I’ve never been high on morality, anyway.
The idea of knocking her up gets me even harder.
I need her desperately. Want her madly. Love her completely. My obsession knows no bounds.
“You want to escape me? You can’t. I’ll make sure of it. You and I for life. Forever. One way or another.” I pump into her like a savage in his mating prime. “You’ll take my cum deep inside you.” Thrust. “You’ll swell with my baby.” Thrust.
She moans, her nails digging into my shoulders, and she bites into my chest hard enough that she might pierce the skin.
I growl, a beast let loose.
“Your stitches,” she breathes, care tinging her voice like a healing balm.
“Fuck my stitches.”
Eyes locked, she brings her palm to my cheek, and I lean into her touch. Sex between us edges on primal, but love is the driving force, just like now when our souls carry on a conversation while our bodies join in pure rapture.
“God, Zara, baby. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. For everything I did. For everything I will do,” I rasp, not caring about good or bad, but just to have her any way I can get her.
I don’t want her to just come, but explode, so I wrap my hand around her throat, pressing lightly as I pound into her until her eyes widen into two pools of ecstasy.
She breaks apart for me, coming for long moments, crying out my name with tears falling down her cheeks from the sheer intensity.
She squeezes me so damn well, triggering my release. Thrusting inside her one more time, I bottom out, coming undone as I fill her with my cum.
Only after I soften do I slip out of her.
Burying my face in her neck, I cup her pussy, scooping the cum that is leaking down her thighs back inside her.
We stay like this for long minutes that pass in the blink of an eye. She stiffens in my arms, announcing paradise has ended, then wiggles out of my embrace.
“Let me wash you.” I need to tend to her.
She offers a small nod, but she keeps her eyes closed, once again locking me out.
From her hair to her toes, I don’t leave a spot uncared for.
Then I follow her out, needing to remain in her space before she shuts me out for good.
As she shimmies into a bathrobe, I pluck the dryer from the cabinet and pat the counter.
She mumbles something unintelligible but hops up, feeding me a crumb of hope.
There’s not even an inch of space between us, yet an invisible crater divides us. I don’t know how to bridge it, but I won’t stop trying until my last breath.
She looks so damn beautiful, making my heart stop and pulse again with her out-of-this-world beauty, especially now, with her delicate cheeks flushed, her brown eyes shining even more intensely, and her immaculate skin glowing.
Her brownish-blonde strands flow through my fingers like decadent silk, the tips falling short below her collarbone, framing her gorgeous face. She’s a masterpiece.
Once her hair is dry, I put the hair dryer back in the cabinet, knowing what she’s about to do without her even having to open her mouth.
“It won’t help,” she whispers and slips away from me.
“I didn’t have that impression when you came on my tongue and cock and melted in my arms just a few seconds ago.”
She cusses under her breath and is about to leave the bathroom when I add, “You know just as fucking much that we’re unavoidable.”
“I wouldn’t. You made sure of that by erasing my memories.”
She storms out, and I slam a fist into the mirror, splintering it. My image reflects in hundreds of broken pieces, distorting my features, the perfect representation of my insides.
She rushes back inside and puts her hands on her waist. “Great. You’re worse than a damn child.”
I am about to pass her when she grips my hand, putting all her strength into keeping me in place. “You’re going to bleed on the floor.”
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I grumble, voice thick with sarcasm.
She pushes me against the counter, rummages through the cabinet, and pulls out tweezers, disinfectant, and first aid cream.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure. And patching you up is getting annoying.”
“Then stop.”
She glares at me, hard enough to incinerate me before she tends to my battered knuckles.
“You care.”
“I care you don’t die and no one finds me in time.”
“Liar.” At least that’s what I want to believe.
She arches a brow, challenge dripping from every pore. “So sure? Tell me the code and see how fast I am gone.”
Gone. Gone. Out of my life. Lost to me forever.
I itch to test her, but the only one who will get hurt in this scenario is me.
She will grab the first chance, and I won’t be able to fool her a second time.
I can take her hatred. What I can’t take is her absence.
The contraceptive shot is overdue, and this is not the last time we will collide; the passion sizzling between us is impossible to control.
More relaxed, I smirk as she watches me with furrowed brows, caution written in her expression.
Even if she leaves, there is time left to knock her up.
After days of losing hope, it rises again like a phoenix, spreading fiery wings as if announcing to the world that it’s back.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, analyzing my every micro-gesture.
“How you can’t stop yourself from giving yourself to me.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You must have hit your head as well. That’s––”
In an instant, I wrap my hand in her hair and tug her head back. “Come on, baby, lie to my face. Deny it all you want, but it won’t change the fact that you salivate at the sight of my cock, cream your fucking panties at the thought alone.”
“I hate you,” she spits, eyes glowing.
I bite into her jaw, then lick the afflicted skin. “Not even that changes it.”
She slaps her palms on my chest, pushing at me, but I remain an unmoving stone.
Her frustration is clear in her features tightening before she scratches down my torso.
“It only makes me hot, baby,” I whisper in her ear.
She huffs in response, the brat.
Palming her ass, I squeeze one cheek before I slap it and let her go.
She’s in my home, and she’s not going anywhere. I’ll chain her to me if needed.
She rushes out of the bathroom and throws curses at me, which only makes me laugh. “You asshole. Fuck you.”
“I’m up for round two whenever you’re ready,” I say to her back as she slams the door to the bathroom shut, leaving me with the gap in my chest that only seals when she’s near me.
Changing into a pair of boxer briefs, I follow her into the kitchen.
“It’s my turn to cook.”
“Fine,” she says, and leaves.
I prepare breakfast, the spread including everything from sweet to savory, then search for her. The penthouse is huge, but there is no place to hide where I won’t find her.
It doesn’t take me long to locate her. She’s on the terrace, lounging on the U-shaped sectional.
Putting the tray on the table in the middle, I sit down across from her and pat the spot next to me.
“What do you think I fucking am? A dog? You whistle and I perform?”
I pin her with a serious stare. “I see you woke up with a temper, but I know a few things to curb it.”
She gasps, but that can’t hide the flush covering her features or her pupils dilating.
She loves when I am in charge, now even more so because it absolves her of any guilt. I won’t have that.
Zara will learn that nothing can come between her love and desire for me while I exercise patience, waiting for her to be ready to listen to my side of the story. She’ll surrender. Eventually.
I am not above slandering a dead person; the asshole surely deserves that, but when I tried the first time, it confirmed my greatest fear. She spiraled, and I thought I would lose her for good.
A mischievous smile curls at her mouth, and she crawls on the sectional to me on her hands and knees, making me swallow hard.
I tip my head back, looking up at the morning sky, but there’s no solution to my predicament, so I draw my eyes back to my beautiful madness. She takes a forkful of omelet before biting into its fluffy consistency, hard enough that I know she imagines biting off something else.
“Such a good girl,” I grunt.
Sadly for her, she won’t be able to. She is too fucking desperate for my cock.
I eat unperturbed, knowing she’s after a fight. I won’t give it to her.
We must find a solution, a way to cope with the past and live in the present—to be the perfect team. That proves challenging when one of us constantly sabotages the other’s attempts.
I will tire her out. With patience. With love.
I won’t give up. Not now. Not ever.