Chapter 25
twenty-five
I can’t stay away from her. Not now. My cum still drips from between her thighs.
So after dumping the body of the representative, I watch her, as I always do.
She emerges from her bathroom in just a towel, her wet, dark hair clinging to her back. But instead of getting dressed, she shifts from foot to foot.
When I slip through her balcony doors, she smirks.
“I knew you’d come.”
“Twice in one night. Shall I go for a third?” I ask with a tight grin hidden behind my mask.
In answer, her hand drops the towel, and there she stands in all her glory. Like a Greek statue: curves and softness, I want to run my fingers over every inch and grip tight.
With slow steps, I close the space and wrap her in my arms, feeling her breath catch and body tremble. Wanton anticipation fills her expression as she looks up at me. If only I could kiss her the way I want…
“Do you trust me now?” I ask.
“No.”
Carefully, she crawls her fingers over the fabric covering my face, and I flinch. They slide beneath the bottom until I pull back. “Do you trust me now?” she asks.
And I shake my head. “No.” Not while Elliot is still hanging around the background of her heart. She needs to know me first.
“H-How many, um…” Her eyes dart behind my shoulder toward the bed. “Should we be using protection?”
My face buries into her neck with a chuckle. “My precious, obedient, rule-following Monarch. You haven’t understood yet, have you?”
Nails dig into my shoulders as she tries to squirm away, but I hold her tighter. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m never wearing one with you because you’re mine.”
“I don’t know if you have anything, Vanq! You could—”
Grabbing a fistful of her hair, I force her gaze up, my voice a harsh whisper behind the mask. “You think I could fathom being with anyone else? No, my queen. You are my first and my last.”
A gasp parts her lips as she shudders in my hold, her naked body erupting in goosebumps. “Th-that was your first time? With anyone?”
“Yes. I’ve been waiting for you.”
The words echo louder in my head than I intended them to. Her breath hitches, and her body stills under my hands.
“How long?” she whispers.
“Years,” I admit, quieter than before, like the truth will make her see behind the mask if I say it too loud.
She blinks up at me, stunned. Her gaze softens as she hums a raspy, thoughtful sound I swear I’ll remember forever. For a second, her touch turns featherlight, as if I’m the one who needs comforting.
I look away. “I know it sounds pathetic.” Dorky.
“No,” she breathes out. “It’s not.”
I swallow hard. The vault I’ve lived inside for so long creaks open. She’s standing in it now. And if I’m not careful, she’ll see everything.
“And yet…you don’t trust me,” she says gently.
“You need to earn my trust.”
Her chin juts out. “Just as you do mine.”
“I already have. You haven’t grasped that yet. But you will.”
When her mouth opens to come up with a retort, I spin her around until her back hits my chest. She squeals out of shock, but I grasp her neck and force her against the wall.
Her hands smack on either side of a picture of her sorority.
All the girls appear prim and proper and pink. Awaiting their appointed Viscounts…
“Look at her, Olivia—that perfect, polished president. Say goodbye while I fuck her out of you and sculpt you into my own dirty plaything. My toy to be used. Watch her disappear with every thrust, replaced by the woman only I can see, the one brave enough to surrender.”
She makes a protesting grunt, but I smack her large rump until she minds me. With one hand, I undo my belt and jeans, my cock firm and throbbing. Hopefully, I’ll last a lot longer this time.
Because now that I’ve been inside her? I never want to leave.
“Spread your legs. I want to see you give it up for me.”
There’s a moment of hesitation, but she does, and the second there’s room, I line up and thrust inside. Her skin is warm and dewy from her shower. I hold her upright by the neck to look at me. “That’s my girl. You feel how hard you make me?”
“Yes,” she mewls.
My hips grind deeper, rougher, savoring the way her body yields without a fight. “Mmm, my holy little fucktoy. Worshipping my cock with every clench,” I growl. “This is our communion. You’re the altar…” I lean in, mouth at her ear. “And I’m the offering.”
Her hips swivel with grace over my length, and I squeeze my eyes closed at the pleasure of the sensation. Fingers dance over her thick waist until I find her clit and rub how I’ve learned she likes with my tongue.
“Vanq… Fuck me. Give it to me.”
With that, I force in harder, deeper. My hand spanks her until her entire backside is red. The harsher I am, the more she seems to love it. I lift one of her thighs and thrust into her as she moans, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
“Look at me,” I command, and her dazed gaze finds my face.
“I’m going to breed you until there’s no turning back, mark you permanently.
You won’t be able to say no. You’ll have to show off your swollen belly to everyone on campus.
The pregnant sorority president without an appointed.
” With another deep shove, my balls throb as she tightens around me.
“You want that? To be a rebel like that? Show them that no one owns your body but me?”
Her hand finds my cheek as she strokes it, and she backs up into me. Neck arching, she pants out the answer I long to hear. “Yes… Yes, I do.”
“That’s what I thought.” So as she collapses around me, her pussy quivering erratically, I erupt within her, wishing that fucking barrier was out of my way…
And soon, it will be.
I stay buried inside her as we both catch our breaths, and I ride out every pulse, every leak of cum, until I’m empty.
“Three times…” she huffs.
“Only the best for my girl.”
Neither of us moves. Our eyes meet—and something passes between us. Quiet, wordless. Her gaze says she’s okay. Even after all of it. Mine answers what she already knows. I never doubted she would be.
As I soften and slip free, warmth trickles down her thighs. Her breath catches, then she lets out a soft snort.
“If you’re going to keep breaking me like this, you need to tend me afterward. Do something normal.”
My arms squeeze her in a tight embrace. As I stuff myself back in my jeans, she cleans up with the towel, then grabs a T-shirt and panties to throw on. I glance around the room. “What? Like, knit or sip tea?”
When she crosses her arms, her breasts bounce as rakes her eyes along my figure. “It’s laundry day. I need to change my sheets.”
She probably thinks her precious Elliot would know how to make a bed. Me, however, stands there, nodding like an idiot, hoping to hide my confusion. But I’m too excited to try something so domestic with her to say no. “Sure, okay.”
One side of her lips curls up as she smirks. Then, she tries to hide a giggle as she pulls off the old bedding and tosses it my way.
“What?” I ask.
“I can’t believe I’m making a bed…with my stalker.”
We set to work, and I try to mimic her movements, but she laughs. Full-out beautiful chuckles erupt...from the woman who just murdered her rapist.
“And you’re doing it wrong,” she says between breaths.
Looking at my messy handiwork, I shrug. “There’s a right way?”
She hip-checks me to show me how to fold the top sheet into a hospital corner. “Like that.”
“Got it.” I tap my temple. “I’ll make our bed from now on.”
Her forest-green eyes go wide, and the smile drops from her face, replaced by a stunned look. “Ours…”
“Yeah. Ours.”
There’s a tiny twitch of her lips, as if she wants to accept it with a grin. “I’m tired.”
“Yes, stabbing rotten meat will do that to you,” I tell her, and she glances at me with a sly look on her face. Because now…we share almost all our secrets.
She slips beneath her covers as I hover nearby. Maybe it’s angels singing, but when she asks, “Will you stay?” I could swear Heaven opened up and shined down on me.
In answer, I kick off my boots, toss my hoodie onto her chair, then lay on top of her bedding in just my jeans, T-shirt, and mask.
Trembling fingers trail over my chest until I snag her hand and place it firmly against me.
Then, I bring her up closer until she’s resting on my shoulder. “Get comfy, Monarch.”
We’re silent for a long while, until I reach into her nightstand and pull out her diary and a fountain pen. She watches without protest as I flip to a back page and begin to draw.
She’s tucked against me like she belongs there. Damp hair curling over my arm, lips slightly parted from exhaustion. Pages of her journal resting half-open across my lap, and with one hand, I sketch.
Slow strokes. Clean lines. I don’t need a reference. I’ve memorized every inch of a Monarch’s wing.
“Where did you learn to do that?”
“Just…watching videos of other people and tracing, I guess. Practice. Time. Dedication.”
“So you stalked butterflies, too, then?”
My head hits the headboard as I chuckle, low and long. “Yeah, I suppose.”
She grows quiet again for a good while, but her eyes are still open, watching me.
“This one’s female,” I murmur, voice hushed so I don’t break whatever this moment is.
Shifting just enough to look, her thigh brushes mine. “Oh?”
“Males have black scent glands on their hindwings. Right here.” I dot them in with the pen. “Females don’t. Their veins are thicker. Coloring’s slightly duller, but more grounded. They do the heavy lifting, the egg-laying. Males just fuck and die.”
She hums against my skin like she’s barely listening, but she’s not annoyed. That’s all I care about.
“The really fascinating part is how they migrate. Four generations removed from the forest they were born to reach…and somehow, they still find it. They find home. It’s stored epigenetically.
Inherited memory encoded in DNA. So even if they’ve never seen the place they fit, they’ll die trying to get there. ”
A pause.