chapter 31
Avira
Wen throws her Kindle onto the bed. “This is bizarre.”
“What?” I ask, turning the page of my book.
“He kidnapped her, put her in a cage without food or water for three days, and now this stupid girl is falling for him.”
“Stockholm syndrome, babe.”
She sighs and picks up her Kindle again.
“But isn’t there a limit to Stockholm syndrome?
Like in Beauty and the Beast, it’s understandable.
That guy treated her really well. But this motherfucker made her his servant.
And still, she’s falling for him? Bullshit.
No one can make me believe she really fell for that dick. ”
I laugh. Wen doesn’t usually read much, especially smut and dark romance. This book is my suggestion, and I’m sure that by the end, she’ll fall in love with it.
I resume my reading. I’m going through one of her classic collections. She’s a hardcore romantic, she reads the kind that makes your heart shift beats like gears, subtle yet lasting.
A knock comes at her door. Wendy opens it and peeks in. “Mr. Bennett is calling both of you downstairs.”
I get up from the swing chair and walk toward her, grinning, taking her hands in mine and making her spin. “I saw you yesterday evening in the garden.”
She giggles, dancing with me. “That’s not really good.”
“Giving hot, open-mouth kisses to a hunk in the cold while wearing no sweaters isn’t good either.” I twirl her again, adding, “Especially for your health.”
Wen hops off the bed. “Oh my, oh my, Wendy. What have we missed? Who was he?”
She smiles, a beautiful blush spreading across her cheeks. “Mr. Bennett’s shadow man.” Her expression shifts. “Oh—oh! You both are called downstairs. Hurry.”
We all reach downstairs. At the end of the last stair, I hear a voice, my steps halt.
Wen asks, “What’s he doing here?”
I shrug. “How would I know?”
We walk into the living room, where Zoan is sitting with Ma and Pa. The moment we enter, his eyes lift toward me. My heart forgets to beat for a few seconds. Is he really looking at me with that burning intensity, or has his way of seeing things changed over the past month?
He quickly shifts his gaze back to Pa and continues their conversation. I perch on the armrest of the couch near Ma, perfect positioning to watch him without drawing attention.
I take in every detail of him slowly, savoring his features.
Now that he’s in front of me, I can feel how much I’ve been missing him.
I watch his mouth move, when he talks, his facial muscles don’t even show a hint of strain.
His beard has grown and is trimmed just as neatly as everything else about him.
And I have to admit… he’s looking hot as hell.
The heat spreads inside me, and to suppress it, I press my thighs tightly together.
My eyes flick up to meet his. I know he can feel me watching him, even though his attention is locked on Pa. Something is wrong with me, because right now, I’m even finding the arches of his eyebrows seductive.
I know exactly what that “wrong” is called. It has a name: lust.
I take a deep breath and force my gaze elsewhere. I can’t lust over him in front of my family. Nope. That’s not on the menu.
But my Zoan-starved eyes move back to him the very next second.
I watch his throat, the way his Adam’s apple moves with every word.
Now I’m focused on his voice, and I feel myself leaking into my panties just concentrating on its texture.
The heat only intensifies as I take in his leaned-back posture, the stretch of his shirt across his chest, the defined muscles of his forearms, and the way every fold of his shirt is perfectly aligned, without a single corner out of place.
Then my gaze drifts down to his tailored pants.
If my period hadn’t ended just a week ago, I would have sworn it was that. The amount of wetness pooling between my thighs doesn’t feel natural.
Everyone gets up, and I follow suit. Ma must have announced dinner, but I didn’t hear it—too busy getting wet over my adopted brother’s impossibly hot body.
We settle into our chairs. Wen and I sit across from Zoan and Ma, Pa at the head of the table. Wendy and Ava serve our dinner. Once they leave, we begin eating.
Pa looks at me. “Avi, is your luggage packed?”
I gulp down a bite, frowning. “For what?”
“Didn’t Zo tell you? You’re going to San Diego with him.”
I look at him, then back at Pa. “I’m not going there.”
No matter how much he can make me wet, I’m still mad at him.
“Didn’t you hear the conversation in the living room?” Ma asks.
My eyes slide to the person sitting beside her, who is smirking. He has definitely noticed me drooling over him.
“The weather report says it will rain the day after tomorrow. So you won’t be able to use the chopper, you’ll have to travel by car. You’ll go to San Diego today, since it’s closer to LA, and will return after your event,” Ma explains.
“No problem, Ma. I’ll travel by car from here to LA,” I reply.
“It will take six hours,” Zoan adds.
I open my mouth to say it’s fine, but then I recall the three-hour drive with Roxion. The nausea is still as fresh as if it happened yesterday. But I definitely don’t want to go to San Diego with him.
I glance at Wen. “Will you come with me?”
She leans closer. “Do you want a third wheel?”
“I need a third wheel.”
She chuckles and winks. “Then you’ve got the best person for it.”
I grin and look toward him. “Fine. Wen and I will come with you.”
He narrows his eyes slightly, then nods. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
Ma smiles and pats his head. “That’s best. It’s been a long time since you stayed here for the night. I’ll have your room prepared.”
Ma calls Wendy and asks her to prepare the room on the terrace, it’s Zoan and Leo’s room. The whole terrace is theirs.
After dinner, Pa and Zoan start playing chess, with Wen and I cheering from Pa’s side, while Ma cheers for Zoan.
Wen jumps from the armrest and gives a twirl, singing, “Zo is losing, lalala!”
Pa chuckles, leaning back. “Now, young man…”
“Accept the defeat,” I say, fist-bumping Pa with a grin.
He watches me with an amused smile.
Ma pats his shoulder. “Come on, close their mouths.”
Zoan smirks and executes a sharp counterattack, sliding his bishop diagonally across the board to put Pa’s king in check, cornering him unexpectedly.
Wen and I lean forward over the board, eyes wide as if witnessing something paranormal.
Pa nods with a proud grin. “That’s quite a move.”
Like everything else, Pa had taught Leo and Zoan chess. Ma always tells us stories of those sessions. Pa used to make Leo and Zoan sit together as a team, they weren’t allowed to speak but had to move in perfect harmony to win against him.
“Pa, show him who’s the master!” Wen cheers like an excited commentator.
With a smirk, Pa moves his rook, sliding it to trap Zoan’s bishop in a clever pin.
Wen and I jump, swaying our hips in round motions, shouting in excitement.
Everyone laughs at our over-the-top cheerleading.
“These girls have turned chess into football!” Ma chuckles.
We sit back down on either side of Pa’s single-seater armchair, still buzzing from the game.
“We are Pa’s fan girls!” I declare.
The game continues, full of shouting, laughing, and playful huffing. After more than an hour of chaos and cheers, it finally ends. Pa wins, of course. Who could ever defeat our Pa in chess?
My sleep breaks when I feel someone touching my shorts. My eyes fly open as my shorts are pulled off along with my panties. In the next second, my thighs are forced apart. Before I can resist or calm my shocked heart, a hot tongue meets me.
My back lifts off the bed instantly. I suck in a long, hard breath that fills my lungs just as his tongue fills me.
Is this a dream? No, the pleasure is far too intense for it to be a dream.
“Eyes on me, Dove,” he orders, lifting his mouth just slightly. His cool breath brushes the area before his tongue warms it again.
I force my sleepy eyes to stay on him. He lifts his face, then rubs his middle finger all over my vagina before sliding it inside. I shudder on the bed, unable to keep my eyes open. I thought it wasn’t interesting… but maybe Zoan could make anything interesting.
He presses his thumb on my clit. I cry out a loud moan.
“Keep your eyes open,” he mutters hoarsely.
I force my eyes open again and watch him working his fingers.
He adds another finger, stretching me further, and god, I love this stretch.
My breaths become labored, and to take control of my respiratory organs completely, he latches his mouth onto my clit.
His beard rubs against my sensitive flesh as he moves his lips over it.
I vow never to let him go clean-shaven again.
He increases the speed of his fingers, his eyes fixed on me while his mouth sucks on my clit. And then I’m done. Waves of orgasm crash over me, drowning my consciousness. I can hear nothing, feel nothing, just darkness hitting the back of my head again and again.
God, I have only one wish—apart from a thousand others. When you kill me, please kill me in this state.
I open my mouth in a daze as he presses the tip of his finger against it. He slides two long fingers inside my mouth. A strange, intense taste fills me.
“You don’t wash this sweetness, Dove,” he says, hovering over me, his black eyes locked on mine as if the blue was never there. “It’s not something to waste. Every drop is precious.” He whispers in my ear.
He withdraws his fingers and steps away from the bed. Before he can leave, I grab his hand. I sit up, looking at his hard, commanding face.
“I don’t want to have any debt with you.” My eyes slide down to the bulge in his sweatpants. “I want to pay back.”
I look up and find him smirking. “Go on.”
I expect a no. “It’s wrong.” “It’s forbidden.” “We shouldn’t do this.”
Well… that’s good. I won’t have to waste my energy arguing.
I slide the tight elastic of his sweatpants down along with his underwear, just the way he does.
What comes into view makes me question my offer.
What in the name of God is this? I hold it in my hand.
The length and thickness are impossible, I could never take it fully without hurting myself.
Forget about swallowing it, I don’t have a pipe wide enough.
Every sentence I’ve ever read in books seems useless now.
A semi-transparent liquid decorates the tip of it.
I rely on my theoretical knowledge and lick it.
The taste is bittersweet, but the strong fragrance hits the back of my nose with an unexpected force.
I lick again, craving the same rush. I take the tip into my mouth and suck, the same intoxicating scent filling my mouth, reaching my nose, overwhelming my senses. Damn. This is so good.
I suck again, moaning softly, my tongue tracing every inch of the head.
“Move your hand,” a strained voice pulls me out of my pleasure. I look up at him, feeling guilty. Instead of giving him pleasure, I had gotten lost in drugging myself with his pheromones.
I start moving my hand along his shaft while working my mouth on his tip. Slowly, I take more of him inside. The only reactions he gives are low, almost silent groans.
I increase the pressure of my lips. I look up, and oh my God. Have I ever seen such a handsome man before? Never. His body is under strain, yet he looks impossibly handsome, torn between watching my mouth move on his length and locking eyes with me.
Holding my gaze, he groans low in his throat. Now I understand what those authors mean by that sound, it’s literally a pussy-heating groan.
Hot pulses of thick liquid hit the back of my throat. The intoxicating fragrance fills me completely. I gulp it all down before letting his dick come out of my mouth. It’s still hard in my hand.
I look up. “Is it… not done?”
He chuckles, then slides his pants up. He reaches for my jaw and bends down. Is he going to kiss me? The moment his mouth comes near mine, I turn my head away. He leans back slightly, watching me with that unreadable expression I’ve always hated.
I slide away from him, lie down on my bed, and cover myself with the quilt. “You promised never to kiss me again. Good night.”
He stands there, expressionless as ever, which only makes me fume. I turn my back to him and close my eyes, hoping he’ll leave.
But he doesn’t. I peek through one eyelid, and he’s gone. Has he learned to go invisible too? I roll over, and jump out of my skin. He’s sitting on the floor in front of me, leaning against the side table that’s no doubt digging into his muscles, his back pressed against it.
And he’s just… watching me.
I purse my lips and turn to my side, keeping myself from offering him the bed. Why do I even care about him when he doesn’t? I sigh. I hate my weak heart. I just can’t sleep knowing he’s sitting on the cold floor.
Recall, Avira, he’s that same bastard who planned to marry you off and then die. He never once considered how much pain his decision would cause. And besides, he’s strong. What harm can sleeping on the floor do to him?
Leave it. I’m a good-hearted human being, that’s why I don’t want him to feel discomfort.
I turn back toward his side. “You can sleep on the bed.”
He gets up with a smile and sits down on the bed. I narrow my eyes. What’s wrong with him? Where are his lines about the floor being comfortable?
He slides under the cover. My naked butt demands my attention. I pick up my shorts and panty from the floor beside the bed and put them on. I turn to the other side, switch off the light—he must have turned it on when he entered—and close my eyes.
Not even half a minute has passed when he slides closer to me, his hand moving around my stomach as he pulls me back against his chest. I curse my stupid heart for beating like mad drums. My body still hasn’t received the memo that I don’t want this man.
Okay, fine, I want him. Even though I shouldn’t want such a selfish motherfucker. And that’s the problem.
I don’t think I’m capable of hating him. Fuck it, Avira. You are capable of doing everything, just don’t let this fucker have his way with you so easily.
He kisses the back of my head. “Good night, Dove.”
Is he playing with me? That must be it. He’s approaching me because I’m not doing that, and once I forgive him, he’ll start behaving like before.
Such an ass.