chapter 40
Matleon
I rub my chin, raising a brow, my eyes locked on the screen displaying this month’s major returns chart.
Dexter Walker has made impressive progress in such a short time.
His name sits at the very bottom of the chart for now, but I can already see it climbing to the top by the end of next year.
The boy has talent. I knew it the moment I saw the models he built, that’s why I invested in the first place.
The doorbell of the guest house rings.
I get up from the couch, walk to the door, and open it. My eyes land on the smiling woman standing in front of me, a casserole cradled in her hands. A smile reaches my lips instantly, unbidden and genuine.
I step aside to let her in, glance outside to make sure there’s no third wheel lurking around, then close the door, making sure to lock it.
I’ve been buried in meetings since morning and didn’t get to see her after breakfast. It’s already one in the afternoon now.
I follow her into the kitchen.
“Your lunch,” she says, turning around by the counter.
I lift her easily, my hands settling on her ass, and place her on the counter beside the casserole. Leaning in close, my mouth hovering near her face, I murmur, “Mmm… my lunch.”
Her gaze drifts from my eyes to my lips. Then she looks down, placing her palms against my chest. “I made soup noodles for you. They’ll turn mushy in a few minutes.”
I hum softly, leaning even closer, my breath brushing her skin. “Not within two minutes.”
She looks up at me with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. “What could you possibly do in two minutes?”
I inhale slowly along her jaw, my voice low and certain. “Make you come.”
“Not possible,” she breathes.
I chuckle, then lick the corner of her mouth.
Her lips part, tempting me further. I press my lips against hers slowly, savoring every movement.
Her hands slide from my chest to wrap around my neck, moving as slowly and deliberately as our lips.
Just as her breathing grows slightly ragged, I pull away.
“Check the time, Angel.”
She nods, dazed, but makes no move. I chuckle and lift my wrist. “1:12 a.m.”
She nods again, licking her lips. I pull her closer, lifting her up, and slide her shorts down from under her ass. I put her back on the counter and slide them off her legs completely.
“Lean back, and spread your legs for me,” I mutter against her mouth before kissing her again. She leans back. I only leave her lips once she is fully lying on the counter.
“Spread your legs,” I command, my eyes drinking in the glimpse of her pussy between her thighs.
She spreads them slightly. I click my tongue, amused. “More, Angel. Haven’t you learned?”
Her cheeks flush a deep red. Her shyness is seductive, it’s a trait I absolutely adore.
I lower myself between her legs. “More.”
She spreads them completely. I smirk before pressing my lips to the folds of her pussy, resting my palms on her thighs near her folds. She shivers under my touch.
“Gorgeous cunt,” I moan before thrusting my tongue inside.
She moans in response. I lift my face slightly and slide two fingers inside her. “Fuck,” I grunt, watching them sink deep into her tight, welcoming cunt, fingers disappearing into her as I feel her trembling around me.
My dick aches in jealousy. I slowly slide my fingers out, watching her clear juices coat them, then push them back inside, curling upward within her. There is supposed to be that spot somewhere here. I lick my fingers as they slide out, coated in her sweetness, then sink them back inside her again.
Her thighs tremble beneath my free hand.
I take her clit between my lips, sucking on it while increasing the speed of my fingers.
Her moans grow louder, more desperate. I leave her clit and instead rub the roof of her tight cunt from the inside, faster and harder, watching her writhe on the counter beside my lunch.
In the next second, she cries out, her body lifting off the counter before crashing back down.
That sight—that—is something to behold. Watching her come always gives me a secondhand orgasm. My dick is right on the edge; just a little physical pressure and I’d come in my pants. Which I refuse to make a habit of, it’s not a good one.
She slowly sits up on the counter and grabs my waist, checking the time on my wrist.
“1:14,” she mutters. Then she shakes her head and presses her chin to my chest, looking up at me. “It must’ve been 1:10 when you started. You lied.”
I look down at her with narrowed eyes. “If you don’t want to get fucked right here, woman, get away from me. It’s taking a warrior’s willpower to hold myself back right now.”
She pulls away instantly, her mouth pressing tight to suppress a smile.
This woman, and her smiles, have more control over me than I have over myself. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the demon raging inside me.
She wears her shorts, I move aside to open the casserole. The steam rises, carrying the fragrant aroma of noodles straight to my face.
She gets down from the counter and brings me a pair of chopsticks. “Here.”
I take the chopsticks from her hand without looking at her. Who doesn’t love their body parts? I also love my dick, which already deserves all the pity in the world.
I take a bite and nod, humming in approval. My wife loves eating good food, and making it. I chew another bite. She stands beside me, watching me eat.
And if that isn’t enough to torture me, she leans closer, bringing her face in front of mine. “Are you mad at me? Why aren’t you looking at me?”
I kiss her pouty lips. “If I were in your place, I’d be more concerned about myself. Run out of here before I finish my meal.”
She pulls her face away and resumes watching me from the side while I continue eating.
I smirk as I near the last bite. “If you stay standing there like this, I’ll assume it’s a clear declaration—you’re offering your pussy to my dick.”
That does the trick. She coughs, cheeks flushed red. “Alright. See you in the evening,” she mutters, eyes lowered.
I watch her as I take the final bite. Her gaze flicks to the casserole and then back to me. She shifts closer, rises on her tiptoes, kisses my cheek, and bolts away.
Iselyn
“Where did Nana go?” I ask Mom with a frown as I step inside the house. She’s sitting in the living room, Papa nowhere in sight since morning. He must be in the security area near the entry gate.
A few minutes ago, when I came out of my lab beside Nana’s cottage, I found her door locked from the outside. Usually, she and Mom sit together for tea in the evening, but instead, Mom is here alone.
“She left with Evelyn,” Mom says. “Damir said we might leave for the palace either tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I don’t know. There must be some problem.” She frowns slightly. “He didn’t tell me the exact issue, but from his face, it seems serious.”
I sit beside her on the couch.
She raises a brow. “Forget the problem. Tell me, why aren’t you spending time with Matleon? It’s already five thirty.”
I chuckle. “Why are you so desperate for me to spend time with him?”
She smiles. “I like seeing both of your happy faces when you come back for dinner from your treehouse.”
My face heats instantly. If only she knew the real reason behind that happiness.
“Matleon is busy,” I say.
“Oh, here he comes,” Mom says brightly, looking toward the door.
I turn my head just as he walks inside. Speaking of Satan, and there he is. Wearing that charming smile of his.
“Good evening, Mother-in-law,” he greets her, the perfect son-in-law any woman could dream of.
Judging by the wide grin on my mom’s face, she’s already lost in that delusional, happy world.
Then he turns to me and extends his hand. “Would you go on a walk with me?”
I place my hand in his palm, he curls his fingers around it instantly. I get up, and we walk outside the house together. He intertwines our fingers, then looks down at our joined hands and smiles.
I chuckle. He looks at me, tugging me closer to his side. He’s clearly taking advantage of Marco’s absence. Because Matleon wouldn’t be Matleon if he didn’t exploit the situation. That thought leads me straight back to my conversation with my mother yesterday.
“Matleon,” I say, stopping mid-step. “Tell me honestly, have you manipulated my mother?”
His face immediately settles into an innocent expression. “Why do you always assume the worst about me?”
I stop him completely and step in front of him, narrowing my eyes. “She was getting overly emotional yesterday about you feeling too much guilt.”
His expression turns serious. “Because I do feel too much guilt, Angel.”
My face softens.
And then, he smiles.
My leg flies up, aiming for his shin, but he dodges easily and bursts out laughing.
“You are so evil,” I say, punching his stomach. His laughter only grows louder. “You are literally the reincarnation of Satan,” I add, half laughing, half furious.
He raises a brow, still laughing. “Satan? You mean Lucifer?”
I nod. “Yes. Your other identity.”
His face turns serious in a second. “I’m far less evil than him.”
I punch his stomach again, and he starts laughing all over again. “Still acting,” I say, equal parts awed and annoyed. “I can’t believe how flawlessly you do this.”
He grabs my fists and pulls me into him. I wrap my arms around his waist. He circles his arms around mine, holding me close.
“Thanks for the compliment, wifey,” he says, grinning.
I narrow my eyes at him, tilting my face up to meet his because of his ridiculous height. “Now I can’t even believe you were serious when you said you love me. And the poetry you followed it with only makes me doubt you more.”
He lowers his face until our noses brush. “Believe me, Angel. I have never said anything more truthful in my entire life, not even to myself.”
I rise onto my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips. He is evil, manipulative, selfish—everything wrong.
But he is mine.