CHAPTER 14 Nikolas “Hush, Little Lamb, Don’t You Cry—Niko’s Gonna Sing You a Lullaby”
Nikolas
“Hush, Little Lamb, Don’t You Cry—Niko’s Gonna Sing You a Lullaby”
I sit in the dark, observing her sleeping form. The rise and fall of her chest. The light fluttering of her lashes against her soft skin.
I shouldn’t be here.
But then again, it’s my fault that I am—that we both are.
Hours passed during which time I was away from her. Long, torturous hours, that seemed like an eternity I was no longer able to bear, driving me back to this very room. Like it did every night.
If she only knew the level of devotion I feel towards her.
Would it scare her away?
Would she flee me, as she did that day?
I stand, going to the far corner of her room, a silhouette against the dark paneled walls, my eyes fixed upon her with a hunger that is both reverent and cruel.
There is something so innocent, so naive, yet inherently mischievous in her that makes me want to probe the deepest part of her mind and peel back those false layers of propriety to her true self. The dark and twisted one that she hides so well.
The one that matches my own.
There was no denying what she would one day come to mean for me. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her.
I sigh, remembering that fateful day, allowing my thoughts to wonder.
The room is cloaked in velvet shadows, the only light the pale silver of the waning moon seeping in through the heavy curtains.
The air hangs thick with the scent of roses—her favorite flower.
A scent meant to soothe in this hopeless time, but one that twists into something sickly sweet and bitter inside of me with each passing day.
But I still bring them to her, hoping that somehow, they’ll make a difference.
Foolish. Stupid.
That is how I feel.
She’s not aware of it. She might not ever be.
She lies there—motionless beneath the heavy quilt—her skin almost luminous in the dim light, delicate and pale like a fragile porcelain doll forgotten in some ancient crypt. Her chest rises and falls in a gentle rhythm, slow and shallow breaths that speak of innocence and vulnerability.
It’s your fault she’s here.
Yes, but guilt is not what is driving me to the point of madness tonight.
My lips curve into a half-smile, thin and knowing.
I imagine tracing the line of her throat, pale and unmarked, beneath silken sheets.
Imagine the coldness of my fingers ghosting over her soft skin, stirring a shiver she wouldn’t be able to understand in her current state.
The thought of bending time itself to claim the stillness of her sleep, to tether her helpless body to my will, sends a dark thrill spiraling through my veins.
What I desire is forbidden, impure—yet it burns inside of me like a fevered curse.
This isn’t love, oh no. Love is far too gentle. Far too fleeting.
This is possession. An obsession older than my family’s legacy itself, as ancient and relentless as the ivy strangling the mansion’s walls.
I move closer, the floorboards whispering beneath my steps like the sigh of a thousand lost souls. My gaze never faltering, drinking in every soft curve, every breathless pause that passes those luscious lips of hers that call to me, like a beacon to home for lost sailors in a turbulent sea.
I have to have her.
I have to taste her, no matter the cost.
She submitted to me. Willingly gave up a piece of control. Would it be crossing a line?
No, the devil chants in my ear. She is yours to take.
And in this room of lost hope, where the past always lingers like a ghost’s sigh, I whisper, almost tenderly—a promise veiled in shadow, as my fingers graze her cheek, “I will take care of you, my sweet Elena. You will know pleasure even in your deepest dreams.”
A soft exhale is her only answer, and I smile, grateful for that small sign of life. It is more than I can ask for, more than I dare hope for.
One day.
I sigh again, the notion loaded with endless emotions and unspoken meanings.
I lift the heavy quilt, revealing her sleeping form. My cock hardens. My hungry gaze sweeps over her, my fingers tracing down her neck, lingering where the pulse beats fierce and true.
“You are mine, Elena. In every way. In waking, in dreaming. In life, and what lies beyond.”
I lean forward, breath hot against her cold cheek. She shivers, and a sense of dark and twisted satisfaction surges through me. Even in sleep, she recognizes my touch. And it’s this realization that gives me courage and urges me on.
My hands move with an almost tender insistence, tracing the fragile lines of her collarbones beneath the moonlit silk of her nightdress. Each touch is deliberate, possessive. I want to embed myself into her very flesh.
Her skin prickles beneath my fingers, a mix of chill and heat, as they move down and over her milky thighs. I lift her nightgown, sliding it up until she’s revealed to me.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
I lean closer, my breath ghosting along the apex of her thighs where I pause, for the briefest moment, then inhale, like some opiate addict that’s been starved of his favorite drug.
She gasps softly—a fragile sound swallowed quickly by the heavy silence—making my cock jerk in my pants.
Fuck, I need to feel her.
But first—I slide her damp panties to the side, revealing her heavenly warmth and the mess that she’s made. My fingers glide along her wet slit, awakening something primal in me. It reassures me, driving me to do something I never would have dreamed of doing before meeting her.
My mouth finds her swollen clit, and I press a tender, deliberate kiss over it, pausing for a brief moment before I’m on her again. My tongue swirls around the sensitive little nub, drawing slow, lingering circles while the sound of Elena’s heavy breathing fills the room.
She shivers, body tense but yielding, until she’s putty in my hands. I spread her out, fingers digging into her tender thighs, shoving my face into her pussy until I’m drowning in her juices and heavenly scent.
My cock is painfully hard as I eat her out, precum leaking heavily from the tip, but I don’t stop, not until she shatters beneath my touch, coating my tongue in her release.
I sit back on my feet, sliding my pants down and allowing my heavy cock to spring free of its confinement.
I stroke myself, hungry gaze locked on her cunt that’s still pulsing from her orgasm.
My crown is an angry shade of dark red, practically begging to be dipped into that sweet hole that’s taunting me.
Who am I to refuse myself?
I pause at her entrance, watching her sleeping form, then gripping her hips, impale her on my cock with one single pull.
I groan, cursing as she whimpers and moans beneath me.
Biting my lower lip, I try to keep myself distracted from coming too soon.
I want to savor this. I want to give my precious little lamb another gift, even if she isn’t aware of it.
My hips rock as I start to move, first slow and shallow, then deeper, faster, but never too fast, just enough to have her feel the veins and muscles of my cock—just the way my Elena likes it.
My eyes never stray from her face, absorbing every one of her reactions, however slight they may be, watching for the slightest sign of discomfort.
I want to please her.
Like I’ve only ever wanted to. My pleasure is secondary to hers. As it will always be, no matter the circumstances.
The sound of our fucking echoes in the blackened room.
Her pussy milks me like the greedy little thing that it is, always wanting more.
Always draining the very last drop of cum from me.
My cock glistens with her juices, and it drives me to madness.
I need to feel her clenching around me. I need to fill her until my seed is leaking from her pretty pink cunt.
Leaning forward and resting my hands on either side of her head, I increase my pace, not holding back. My balls slap her ass with each hard thrust into her drenched center, and she releases a sleepy moan, but I don’t stop.
Christ, I can’t stop.
My muscles scream with exertion. Every thoroughly diabolical thrust brings me closer to my own orgasm, but I hold back until I feel her walls tighten around me.
“Yes,” I groan, my balls heavy with their load. “Give it to me, Elena. Suck me dry. Devour my fucking dick with your greedy cunt.”
She explodes, her walls rippling just as my own orgasm is ripped from me. I empty inside of her, but not before spilling a bit into my palm. I wipe it across her lips, watching with smug satisfaction as her tongue darts out, licking me off and swallowing the few traces of my cum.
I kiss her mouth, sending a silent promise into the night.
You will look at me with those beautiful blue eyes again.
No matter how long it takes.
I will wait for you.