18. Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
V iktor
I should have shot her. I should have ended this before I got attached.
To the outside world, I projected a laid-back and composed demeanor, but with Tiffany, all decorum went out the window. Now I was trapping her, tethering her to me for life, and turning my back on family traditions and duty.
I looked down at Tiffany, one moment so strong and defiant, the next, vulnerable, and about to cry for insisting on the marriage that she obviously wanted. Did she not herself say until death do us part ? Was I misreading her?
“You must marry her as soon as possible,” my mother’s voice echoed in my thoughts. “Do not delay in this. Do not let her tears sway you. There are more important elements in play.”
Losing my composure with Tiffany had become all too frequent, especially considering we’d been together for less than a day. I attempted to maintain an air of apathy in life, but her sweet nature, her voluptuous body, and her sharp wit, had a way of undoing me. Disarming me. And driving me utterly insane.
Rather than give in to the urge to rage at her, I took a breath, a moment to compose my turbulent emotions before responding.
“But what, milyy? Why are you about to cry?”
I was impressed with my own control. My instinct was to take it to violence, to force myself on her again and make it so she never again dared test me, question my orders, or delay following my instructions. But I reigned it in. I wasn’t my brother, after all. I knew how to suppress my impulses.
She pulled her blanket close and hid her face. “You’ll think I’m silly,” she sobbed.
I wanted again to explode with anger, but another deep breath allowed me to employ a more patient tactic. I instead crouched before her and tugged down the fabric. My father’s many admonishments of weakness echoed in my ears. He would have never put up with this. He hated tears, even though he had been the cause of many of them, especially for my mother. He instead would’ve been smacking Tiffany about, giving her a reason to cry, so to speak. But I didn’t want to be like him.
“Please talk to me,” I murmured. “I won’t think you’re silly.”
She peeked up at me. “You didn’t propose.”
I bit back the smile. It really was a silly thing, at least in my mind, but to women, I knew these things were important.
“You do deserve a ring and a romantic proposal,” I offered, “but unfortunately, I cannot delay our matrimony, as informal as it might be. I need us bound in the eyes of our deity, and law, before I return to my father’s house.”
I didn’t go into detail, but she must have sensed the importance, because she melted into me. “Okay. I understand. I trust you.” She then kissed me. “You can make it up to me later.”
“Of course.” I stood, pulling her up and into my embrace. “Up you go. Please get dressed now.”
With a nod, she withdrew from my hold and quickly readied herself. I was surprised by what she deemed to be her most valuable possessions.
The first was a stuffed animal that seemed more real than not. The second was a plastic grocery bag filled with jars. I didn’t have to look inside to know the contents.
Unable to help myself, I smiled. I had to. I had to give in to the absurdity of this day. I reached for the bag of dicks. “I’ll take it.”
She beamed. Her bright eyes and amazing smile made my chest puff. She looked up at me like I was her hero, which coincidentally, appeared to be the name of the old dog under her arm, so read the collar.
“We’re going to a new home,” she was now saying to the canine. She then hugged it tightly. “I’ll take you for a walk when we get there.”
“Taxidermy?” I inquired with a raise of my brow.
Her mouth dropped and she covered the dog’s ears. “Hush! He has no idea. But yes, if you must know.”
“Very realistic,” I allowed.
“Thank you!” She smiled broadly again. “I did it myself.”
Of course she did.
Tiffany was as crazy as she was beautiful, and I was going to marry her. The plan I had was pure madness, but it would kill two birds with one stone. I would circumvent my father’s maneuverings, and Tiffany would be mine alone. Mine to possess in every conceivable way. And she would remain by my side, willingly or not, whether my father approved or not.
Grabbing Tiffany by her upper arm, I dragged her over the broken door and into the hall. I saw the manager peeking around the corner. I wanted my future bride to feel reassured, so I spoke to the manager in English as I passed him on my way to the car.
“If anything goes missing, you will pay for those items with fingers, toes, and teeth.”
The wide-eyed manager nodded.
“She is moving out. I will have my men come to retrieve her belongings, and pay you to settle her account.”
Tiffany leaned into me and whispered her request in my ear, much like she did at the ice cream shop. She always surprised me with her little quirks.
I cleared my throat. “My fiancée says you were a good landlord, that you looked out for her, and that she appreciates you. She has requested I reward you for this.”
The manager’s eyes darted between Tiffany and me in alarm. “I am honored. Thank you, Tiff–” He immediately corrected himself as I glared. “–Ms. Garcia. But that is unnecessary. You were a great tenant. That is enough.”
“You would deny the gift my fiancée wishes to give you?” I asked quietly.
Realizing that being noble would be insulting in this case, the manager again corrected himself. “No–no–of course not. I am humbled by your generosity. Thank you. Thank you, sir.”
With a curt nod, I jerked Tiffany toward the car, her collection of dicks and all.
The drive back to the penthouse was spent with me making arrangements for a quick and quiet wedding. My rise to power came with special accommodations, not that I had ever lacked those. Money talked, as they said. What I couldn’t make happen with my name, I could with wealth. But it was nice to circumvent the negotiations.
Once I parked, I hung up and disengaged the car. I looked over to realize Tiffany was sleeping. She looked so innocent and precious, hugging her stuffed pet.
I reminded myself that this woman was like flipping a coin. One side was my sweet, virginal milyy with bright eyes and a gorgeous smile. The other side of the coin might as well have been a skull and crossbones. I had the trophies of a serial killer sitting in the back seat of my car. The woman was without fear.
I admired her for that.
After unbuckling the passenger seatbelt, I gathered Tiffany into my arms and made the trip to the top floor. She protested some at having her sleep interrupted, but then snuggled deeper into my embrace.
When I reached the top floor, I went straight to my bedroom and placed her and Hero on the bed. For her comfort, I fully undressed my new fiancée. She stretched out, as if she appreciated being free from the confines of her clothing.
Brushing her curls away from her serene face, I studied the woman who was soon to be my wife. I found myself captivated over a female I knew less than twenty-four hours. But how could I not be? Fuck, she was beautiful. Our children would be stunning.
My hand traced the curve of her cheek. I should leave her to rest.
I leaned in, placing a tender kiss upon her forehead. I then hovered over her lips.
Just one more taste and then I would leave.
“Or you could begin breeding her now,” my mother’s voice soothed in my mind. “She is yours.”
I wasn’t apologetic as my eyes took up her gorgeous curves. Mother was correct. Tiffany was mine. Nothing could change that now, short of death.
I moved her limbs around until the placement was perfect to see everything. My rough palm grazed her smooth skin. Her pretty pussy looked so delectable.
I ran my nose near the apex of her thighs, breathing in her scent. God, I loved her smell.
Nudging her legs apart, I pushed my face along her pussy, inhaling deeply, then ran my tongue along her slit. I paused when she let out a soft whine and her hips lifted, offering more of herself to my mouth.
I sucked her clit and flicked it with the tip of my tongue, like it was my life’s mission to make her come. Hell, maybe it was. She bucked beneath me, pushing her center into my face, as the first trembles of an orgasm threatened to spill.
My fingers parted her slick folds to give me better access to all that was Tiffany. My tongue moved down to slip in and out of her tight entrance, which was still red and swollen from the forceful fucking I gave her earlier. Maybe I had been too hard on her. Yet, I couldn’t find it in myself to feel bad.
She was mine. Her body was mine to do with what I pleased. I would fuck her. I would breed her. I would break her. And I would put her back together again, only to make her fall apart over and over, if it pleased me to do so. Whether she realized it or not, I was now her master. She would defer to me, or suffer under my hand.
“Careful,” my mother cautioned. “She is not fragile like a flower, but like a bomb.”
My mother was correct in her observation. I should not be arrogant and assume I was stronger, just because I had forced myself upon Tiffany’s body. The more I thought about it, the more I suspected my milyy had allowed me the honor of being her first, rather than me simply taking her body by force. After all, her trophy collection was nothing if not a stark reminder of what this sweet beauty was capable of doing to men. Tiffany had not been a virgin because she was sheltered. She was a virgin because she’d chosen to be one.
Would I master her? Yes. But not because she was weak. But because she wanted me to master her. She needed me. She needed me to be strong for her. She needed a man like me who would not be repulsed by her darkness. She needed the protection my power could provide her. But most importantly, she wanted a man worthy of her heart. I vowed to be that man. There would be none after me.
As if she agreed with my thoughts, she melted into my mouth, her essence coating my tongue and lips. She tasted like Heaven. She felt like home.
My tongue gently slipped out as I brought my lips around her clit and sucked again. I prodded her now soaking wet entrance with my finger and carefully pushed inside. I sought the spongy area near the opening and gently caressed it, back and forth with the pad of my fingertip.
Her hips started grinding against my face as she chased her next orgasm. She softly mewled and gushed into my palm.
Fuck, she was perfect.
She was mine.
She smelled like mine.
She tasted like mine.
She’d never be able to escape me now.
Sucking hard around her clit, I pulled another orgasm out of her. Her hips roughly pushed against my tongue, and her cum flooded forth. I drank from her like a man dying of thirst.
I knew I should stop there and just walk away, content that I gave my woman an incredible orgasm. She needed to rest. She needed to heal. But I was a selfish bastard. I wanted to come inside her, breed her, possess her.
Pulling self-control from deep inside my soul, I slowly left the bed to get a towel to clean her up, but then made the mistake of looking back. Her legs were still slightly spread, and I could see the glistening wetness in between them.
Fuck.
I was a weak man.