Elena #2
That night, I lie awake beside Declan, listening to him breathe. He fell asleep quickly, one arm thrown over his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looks peaceful. Younger, somehow, without the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him.
I could do it now. Get up, get the gun, and end this.
But I don't move. I think about what my father said, about duty and family, and the freedom he promised me. And I think about Declan and the way he makes me laugh.
I don't know what to do, how to choose between the life I've always known and the life I'm starting to want. Between duty and desire. Between family and... what? Love?
Is that what this is?
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but sleep won't come. My mind races with the knowledge that I'm running out of time.
The next evening, Declan comes home late.
I'm already in bed, reading, when I hear the front door open and close and the sound of him moving through the penthouse.
When he appears in the bedroom doorway, he looks exhausted.
There are shadows under his eyes, tension in his shoulders. He's been working too hard.
"Hey," he says, his voice rough. "You still up?"
"Couldn't sleep." I set my book aside and watch as he strips off his shirt, revealing the tattoos that cover his chest and arms. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just a long day." He sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes, and I can see the weariness in every line of his body.
I feel a strange mixture of tenderness and guilt twist in my chest. "Come here," I say softly.
He looks at me, surprise flickering across his face.
He’s still not used to this new dynamic between us any more than I am, and I can see it.
But he finishes undressing and climbs into bed beside me.
I turn off the light and curl into him, my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"Elena." His voice is quiet in the darkness. "Are you okay? You've seemed... different. Since we got back from your father's."
My throat tightens. "I'm fine."
"You keep saying that." His hand comes up to stroke my hair. "But I don't believe you."
I don't answer. If I start talking, I might tell him everything, confess what my father asked me to do. I might beg him to run, to take me with him, to leave this world behind.
But I don't. I just hold him tighter and try to memorize the feeling of his arms around me… to memorize this moment before everything changes.
—
The next morning, I wake up before dawn, and I know I have to do this before it gets any harder. Declan is still asleep beside me. The early light is just starting to filter through the curtains, and I lie there watching him sleep.
I have to do my duty. I'm a Capetti. This was always the plan, even if I didn't know it until now.
And my father is right; Declan doesn't belong in this world.
He's destabilizing everything. Making the other families question the old ways.
Making my father look weak. And if I do this, I can be free.
All I have to do is pull the trigger.
I spend the day turning it over in my head, forcing myself to accept the idea.
Declan and I are too different. We were never meant for each other.
He's from a world of violence and motorcycles and dive bars.
I'm from a world of tradition and elegance.
We don't fit. We never will. And even if we do have passion, even if we do have fun together, where can this relationship really go?
How long before the differences between us become insurmountable?
How long before he realizes I'm not what he needs?
How long before I'm trapped in a life I never chose, pregnant with a child I'm terrified to have, tied forever to a man who will never truly belong in my world?
Better to end it now, before it gets more complicated. Before I get in any deeper.
Before I get any closer to falling for him.
The thought makes my chest ache, but I push it away. Love isn't enough. It never has been. Duty matters more. Family matters more. And freedom matters most of all.
When Declan comes up to bed in the evening, I’m ready for him.
I push away all the guilt, locking it down, and tell myself to give us both one more evening together before it all ends.
I put on an aqua-blue silk slip edged in lace that I bought before our wedding, and I wait for him, perched on the bed.
When he walks in, his eyes widen instantly, and I can see the desire wash over his face.
When he gets close to the bed, I slide off of it and sink to my knees. He freezes, staring down at me.
“Elena—”
“I want to,” I whisper, reaching for his belt. I haven’t done this since he ordered me to as a punishment, and we both know it. But I want to know what it feels like to do it because I want to.
He groans as I undo his belt and zipper, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to one side as I strip him the rest of the way. He’s nearly all the way hard by the time I get him naked, and I wrap my hand around him, looking up as I see his chest flush.
“Fuck.” His hand slides into my hair. “You have no idea how many times I came imagining you just like this. On your knees, those perfect lips so close to my cock…”
“Like this?” I whisper, leaning in. I brush my lips over his tip like I’m kissing it, and he shudders, his chest heaving with a hard breath.
“Fuck,” he mutters again, and I let my tongue slide out and over him.
For several long minutes, I just play with him, stroking and tracing my tongue over the veins, teasing the soft spot beneath the tip, licking up the precum that he’s been leaking since the moment I got his cock out.
When he’s shuddering, sweat springing out on his brow, I take him in my mouth fully and start to suck.
His hips jerk instantly. “Elena—” There’s a warning in his voice, and I slide back, stroking his slick shaft as I look up at him.
“Can you get hard for me more than once?” I ask, and his eyes glaze with lust.
“Baby, I can get hard for you as many times as you need.” His fingers thread through my hair. “You want me to come in your mouth?” His hips jerk into my hand. “You want my cum down your throat.”
I nod. “I want to taste it,” I whisper, and I slide my mouth down him again, hollowing out my cheeks as I suck and lick, my hand working what I can’t fit.
He groans, his hand curling around the back of my head as he gives himself over to it. He makes it a minute or two more, his every muscle tensed against the pleasure, before he groans and jerks forward. “Fuck, Elena, I’m—”
His cock throbs and spurts in my mouth, filling it with so much cum I almost choke.
I swallow convulsively, stroking as I take everything he has to give me, the sounds of his moaning making me so wet I can hardly stand it.
The look on his face is wrecked when I pull back, and I realize he’s still rock-hard.