36 #2
“Are we in your helicopter?” I still don’t get any proper answer.
Everything is moving around me until we start to rise. My body stiffens and a scream gets stuck in my throat as I feel his fingers running through my hair while he rests his head on mine. Exhaustion begins to set in as the minutes pass, causing me to close my eyes beneath the blindfold.
Everything around me is still dark, except now there are points of light illuminating what appears to be a huge garden separating us from a house. Most of the place is reduced to ashes, broken wood, and dried flowers.
“Is this the place you wanted to bring me to?” I murmur, frowning.
“No.”
He leads me to another part of the house with his fingers intertwined with mine.
We reach a garden that, unlike the previous one, is quite well preserved.
I smile when I see fireflies surrounding the lake.
I move a little closer, wanting to see how crystal clear the water is and our reflections in it.
Everything seems familiar to me, although I don’t know why.
“I love this place.”
“Me too,” he says with a smile, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Do you think we’re the only ones here?”
“I don’t think anyone else knows how to get here.”
“Great. Then we can take a dip.” I pout my lips when I see his dissatisfied face. “It’ll only be for a little while. Please.”
He finally gives in and begins to take off his clothes, leaving only his underwear on. Just like me. My skin shivers from the cold of the water, but it doesn’t take long for me to get used to the temperature because of the heat from his body.
As we melt into a long, tight embrace, I am aware of his now calmed heartbeat. I let out a sigh of pleasure as I feel his fingers move through my hair and I close my eyes. I feel calm. My heart flutters happily to be in his arms with no one around to interrupt or separate us.
His hand move down my back until it reaches the top of my panties. He then pulls them down without warning, and when I’m about to speak, he presses his lips against mine with tremendous ferocity as he leads us further into the water.
“W-wait.” I hesitate in a whisper as he lifts me, making me wrap my legs around him.
He kisses my neck, his hands squeezing my buttocks so hard they almost break through my skin.
“Can you feel how fucking hard you make me?” he whispers in my ear, rubbing himself against my folds. When had he taken off his underwear? “Can you feel it?” I nod, letting out a moan.
He bites my nipple hard through my bra before lifting me into the air again to thrust against my inner walls, making me squeal.
His erect penis thrusts in and out without a shred of delicacy while I try to hold on to his shoulders.
When I feel myself about to climax, he presses his lips to mine again, silencing all the cries and gasps I’m about to let out.
My legs buckle from the orgasm. I guess that’s why he pulls us out of the water and lays me down on the ground before spreading my legs and placing them on his shoulders.
I make a strangled sound when he thrusts back in.
My insides, still sensitive and sore, tremble with more pain and pleasure.
I feel myself losing control when he grabs me by the neck and crashes our lips together until I’m about to pass out from the force of his fingers on my throat.
That moment never comes, and he leaves me with a bittersweet sensation on my skin as I try to stay steady after another orgasm.
I collapse back against him, leaning on his bare, wet chest. He hands me his T-shirt to cover myself from the chill, and that's when I realize my panties are lost in the lake. I reproach myself for wearing a skirt even though I know he always likes to make my underwear disappear. I’m starting to think he really is a magician.
“How did you find this place? I would never have found it.”
“It was the garden of our house.”
“We lived together?” I ask, frowning. He nods slowly.
“In Toronto, before your accident. When we got married,” he replies, causing me to almost choke on my saliva.
“Are we in Canada?” I ask with an incredulous look and my heart racing. He nods again. “But my passport...” I murmur, letting the words hang in the air. He shrugs indifferently.
“That doesn’t matter much when you travel by private jet,” he says with palpable amusement. I hide a smile and focus on his fingers caressing my hand, thinking about the times my father and Lance have told me to distrust him.
Why? What is it that they know that I don’t? Perhaps his warnings are because of how sadistic he can be. It’s no secret what he is, but even so, he doesn’t scare me, at least not anymore, because I know that his hands are tailor-made to protect me.
“What happened to the house?”
“It burned down.”
“Oh. That’s a shame,” I say, furrowing my brow.
“Would you like me to rebuild it?”
“Would you do that for me?” My voice sounds higher than I expected, but I don’t care.
“Of course I would, love. I’d put you in heaven itself if you asked me to,” he whispers in my ear, then caresses part of my neck with his nose.
“I like the house you have now,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek. He gives me a serious look that goes straight to my eyes, then stares at something in front of him, looking dissatisfied. I know why, but neither of us says anything else.
I close my eyes and let out a sigh of pleasure as I feel his lips all over my neck, until the sound of a leaf near us makes me open them, noticing it’s about to dawn.
“We’re running late,” I say in a hoarse voice, a bitter feeling in my stomach.
I can’t help but stare at the destruction around us when we head to his car, wishing I could recover my lost memories of the house.
A little while later, I’m trying to park the bike down the street from my house, with Alek sitting behind me. I can barely get off with his help, as my body is still sore from our last encounter. He doesn’t let me go until trying to suffocate me with his hug.
“Promise me you’ll think about it. About living with me,” he murmurs, loosening his arms around my body.
“I promise,” I murmur, noticing the exasperation in his eyes.
I let out a pitiful sigh before entering the house. It’s almost eight o’clock. That’s why I’m surprised to see the lights on in my father’s office; he doesn’t usually get up so early. I approach without him noticing me, wanting to know what he’s doing there so early.
His cheeks are red from crying, and he seems to be looking at some photos on the table while holding a glass of scotch in his other hand.
I frown in surprise and run upstairs before anyone sees me, wondering what could be making him so sad and distracted these days.
Whatever it is, it can’t be anything good.