Chapter 35 BETH #2
What about Callan? Why was I calling his name without conviction instead of Callan?
“… so you better listen ‘cause I won’t say this again.” His dark voice and a hard thrust pulled me from my daze.
“If you ever think, and I mean think of letting another man stick his fucking dick inside this pussy, be ready to see his chopped-up body delivered to you in a box.” He leaned over and grabbed my hair, yanking my head backward.
“If any man looks at you with lust, breathe wrong in your direction, he will not see another day.” His cock pulsed inside me, and I clenched around him, panting, as he pressed a deceptively soft kiss on my neck.
“And that boyfriend of yours,” he murmured, and my heart skipped, my head shaking to drive away whatever thought he was having before it took root.
“If I ever.” He dragged his word, his nail digging into my hip, cock still buried inside me to the hilt.
“If I ever smell his scent on you, even if it’s because of his old shirt you found in your laundry, I’ll break all his bones, bleed him dry and fuck you raw and hard while covered in his blood. ”
Slowly, he pulled out and slammed back into me again, wrenching a cry from my throat.
“I swear to god, Elizabeth.” His voice was a warning, a dark promise. “I’m not bluffing. I’ll kill him.”
Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe I should cry, bolt. But something about the way he said it, the sheer depravity of his promise, made me envision it–the sight of him, drenched in another man’s blood, mounting me, whispering filth against my ear.
That thought unravelled me, sent me plummeting over the edge. And with a shattered gasp, I came hard, my release gushing, drenching his twitching cock.
And as I panted from the high, a single thought clung to my mind.
This is not me. Something else has taken over me.
???
The sound of water settled around me, cascading from the shower head in a steady, relentless rhythm. It drummed against the tiled floor, ricocheting off the glass walls in a symphony of white noises.
Yet, even through the rush of water, I heard it, two heartbeats. One steady, controlled, the other pulsing with untamed energy. And then, there were Zaghan’s fingers; skilled and relentless as ever, teasing the most sensitive part of me.
“I’m traveling outside of Europe in a week’s time,” he murmured, his voice merging with the static noise of water.
I gasped as two fingers slid inside me, slick and unyielding.
We had been at this for hours. The sex. I should have known. His mission was clear from the moment he asked me how many times Rowan slept with me. So six orgasms were his plan, each one designed to erase every memory of Rowan from my body, from my mind.
“Okay,” I forced out a reply to his information, the water slipping into my mouth, mixing with the taste of him still lingering on my tongue.
“I’m taking you with me.”
My eyes snapped open, the pleasure draining quickly from my body as the water rushed down the drain. I jolted away, my pussy mourning the loss of contact.
“What?” I demanded, blinking against the spray, my pulse skittering.
“You seem upset,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair. “Why?”
For a moment, I forgot to argue as I stared at him. White hair, skin like an untouched snow, golden eyes burning with embers of wicked intent. He shouldn’t be this beautiful. He shouldn’t have carried Callan’s face. It would have been easier to hate him.
“Why can’t you come with me?” he asked again.
“I have school I need to attend,” I deadpanned. “My life is here.”
I’m not convinced.” He shook his head, eyes lazy and amused.
“I’m not your possession, and you don’t get to drag me around,” I added.
A gentle smirk lifted the corner of his perfect lips. “How many times do we have to have this conversation until you accept that you belong to me now?”
“For Christ’s sake, Zaghan, I’m not yours!” I yelled.
His expression darkened almost immediately, jaw working. “Are you Callan’s then?”
“I don’t belong to either of you. Especially you.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Would you say the same thing you are saying now if I were inside you?” His voice was low, taunting. “Because from where I stand, you only tell me what I want to hear when my cock is buried inside you, Beth Fraser.”
A shiver ran through me. The mere suggestion of it ignited something deep, something I refused to name. My thighs pressed together instinctively, seeking friction, but it did nothing to quell the ache.
“I can’t follow you to…wherever you’re going.
” My tone was reasonably low and clinical, like I was talking to a wounded animal.
“I’m already a year behind. This is my final chance to graduate.
And I must graduate. Your family’s organisation have been far too kind to me. I can’t keep wasting their resources.”
Every academic year meant new books, new uniform and every resources a child needed for a successful year at school. There were the smaller expenses on school trips, lunch, and every miscellaneous cost that always popped out of nowhere.
The Raskovs had handled it all for years without complaining. Not once did the school make their burden known to me.
I stayed a year behind and they didn’t revoke my scholarship like I had thought. Kindness like this felt fragile, as though, it could only stretch so far before it snapped.
And I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want it to look as though, they gave me a once in a lifetime opportunity and I took it for granted. I must graduate this year at all cost.
“There are hundreds of colleges in Scotland,” he said, invading my thoughts. “You can get a direct transfer without lifting a finger. So stop being dramatic.”
“Can you stop listening to your own voice for once and hear mine?” My tone was surprisingly sharp and cutting, and his eyes flashed with rage. “Please,” I quickly added in a softer voice.
He inhaled sharply, blinking against the water on his face. “You are too far away,” he murmured lazily. “I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping closer. He didn’t give me a chance to retreat as his hands seized my waist immediately, pressing me against the cool, glass wall. One arm braced above my head, the other snaking down, slipping between my thighs.
“Convince me,” he whispered against my damp skin, his lips hovering over my hard nipple, teasing. “Tell me why I should leave you behind when you’re still going on dates with your former lover, huh?”
His fingers finally slid inside my slick wall, his thrusts slow, deliberate, yet it still made my breath catch. Then his mouth latched onto my breast, nipping, biting, sucking.
“Start talking, Elizabeth,” he murmured, curling his fingers inside me.
“Please,” I moaned instead, the plea slipping from my lips before I even knew what I was begging for. Was it for him to stop? For his cock to be inside me right now instead of his fingers? Or for him to let me stay?
“How do I trust that you won’t spread this fucking thighs for other men while I’m gone, hmm?
” His thumb circled my clit, a low growl settling in his throat as if he could barely stomach the thought.
“On a lonely night when you are craving my cock, will you let another man shove their dick inside this pussy?”
My eyes snapped open, meeting his dark, burning gaze. “I’m not–” I squeezed my eyes shut, anger stirring in my chest. “I’m not a whore.”
My quiet rage made him smirk, and he leaned in until his lips brushed mine.
“But you’re, Elizabeth. You’re my whore.
My pretty, little slut…” He watched, deceptively amused as my glare only sharpened.
“…who is addicted to my tongue, my fingers.” Then his lips brushed my left ear as he whispered, “My fat cock.”
His arms tightened around my waist, lifting me up.
Instinct took over as my legs wrapped around him. And the moment I felt the hard press of his cock at my entrance, I braced.
“And as my whore…” he groaned, thrusting inside me. “This pussy will always be ready for me, only me.”
“I–” I gasped, my head slamming against the glass as he pushed through my wall, pleasure detonating through me, ripping me apart and putting me back together all at once.
“I need those pretty eyes on me, baby.” He slammed into me with ruthless precision, the unfamiliar word he suddenly used–baby–ringing in my ears.
“Watch what your sweet pussy fucking does to me,” he panted, his body trembling against me.
“Can you see? How utterly undone I am pulsing inside your perfect cunt?” He pulled out only to thrust harder, catching a gasp in my throat.
“Can you fucking see your fire consuming me?”
“Oh god,” I whimpered, my nails digging into the ink on his back, legs trembling around his hips.
“Zaghan, Elizabeth,” he corrected, the name torn from him like a curse as his rhythm turned brutal, unrelenting.
“That’s the god you must pray to. Not the one in church.
But the one that’s claiming you right now.
The one that owns your every breath. The one you have offered yourself to so beautifully.
” His fingers flexed around my throat. “Say my name.”
“Zaghan,” I whimpered, tears streaking down my cheeks.
“Louder, baby. Let the sound shatter this glass if it has to. Say my name as you worship my cock.” His pace quickened, his muscles tensing. “Say my name as my cum licks out of your sweet pussy.”
“Zaghan,” I choked, shattering around him, my hot releases gushing out, dripping all over his length, splattering on the wet tiles.
“Fuck,” he drew out, voice guttural, hips jerking violently. His muscles tightened and he followed, spilling deep inside me, hot and heavy. “You’re killing me, Beth Fraser,” he murmured, his breath hot as his head dropped on my shoulder.
I panted, my arms wrapped around him, fingers tangled in his hair. We stayed like that, the water splattering down on us, heartbeat syncing.
Then he murmured, “Five days. You have five days to convince me to leave you behind.”
He lifted his head from my shoulder, then lowered me gently until my legs hit the floor. His fingers tipped my chin up, claiming my lips in a kiss. A kiss that shouldn’t have tasted this good but did anyway. A kiss I shouldn’t have enjoyed yet did.
“Five days, Elizabeth.”