63
She's magnificent. Her little game only made me grow that much harder.
She wants to uncover my past. Fine. I have nothing to hide.
I'm exactly what she thinks I am. A vicious unremorseful beast.
I plunge into her ass with force, knowing she may tear with no prep.
She wants to go digging, she may not like who she finds.
This is who I am. I will take and take from her until she has nothing left to give.
I want her raw and broken, the woman who lies beneath the trauma and damnit, I'll have her at any cost.
Anything to keep her from retreating into a robotic druggy.
She's my sinful queen. She already proved her loyalty to me.
Nothing and nobody will take her from me.
I’ll fucking kill a motherfucker. As I pound into her perfect body on my father’s desk with his useless corpse just feet away, I preen. My last fuck you.
Power. I am the Sovereign. I am God. Nobody overrules me. I take what I want, and what I want is her. She is my prize.
I punch into her harder. Her legs tremble.
Her blonde strands fall over her cheeks.
Her soft ass cheeks are red and tender from my hand connecting with them over and over.
Her soft sobs are music to my ears. I love when she cries for me.
I'm the only man who can destroy her this way.
I'm addicted. I hunger for her skin on mine. My girl loves it.
She craves abuse like I crave power and control. She needs this just as much as I do.
“That's it, sweetheart. Your king. Your beast. Let the rest of the world burn away. Let the Elites raze the Void until blood flows onto the stone. Look at me, sweetheart. I am your final sanctuary. My ruined beauty, I'll never let you go. I'm going to take all of you, Nightshade.
Every painful memory, every past,” I whisper dark temptations into her ear.
Words she is dying to hear. Her sharp breaths make me squeeze her body around me tighter so I'm plastered against her as close as I can be.
She shatters before me, helpless and at my mercy.
“My absolution!” She bellows, arching so I can plunge deeper inside of her.
Her body convulses. Those words hanging on her lips sends a possessive surge through my core.
She rides the wave of pleasure. She's close to tipping over the edge.
I love how I can make her come without even trying.
Her heady moans ignite my insides, sparking with emotions I crave.
I reach around and tug at her clit. “Let me ease the ache.”
I furiously snap my hips into her. Her arousal permeates the air driving me to another level of crazy.
Her fingers tremble on the desk like she wants to run from me, but her body welcomes the abuse. My fingers slide inside her cunt. I linger, teasing her g-spot for a few more seconds. Her ass is a tight sanctuary. I struggle to not blow my load too soon.
“Don't stop. I’m close,” she pants. Her hips gyrate in circles.
I yank my fingers free just as she reaches the precipice.
“Not yet,” I tease. She cries out in frustration.
I suck my fingers clean, tasting her salty juices on my tongue enjoying the wicked torture I inflict.
I go back to pinching her clit harder. She fucking loses it. Her muffled cries echo in the room.
I smirk like the arrogant fuck I am. She tenses.
I hold her close and allow her to ride out her pleasure.
Her crystallized gaze drags me under. It shatters the last of my resolve and I explode inside of her with a roar.
My hot release floods her insides. Fuck how I wish it was her cunt.
If she doesn't hurry and heal, I may just lose all control and bury myself so deep inside of her she won't know where she ends and I begin.
Wounds be damned. I let myself blanket her backside.
Our sweat mingles with our release. It's the most intoxicating scent I've ever experienced.
“I don't ever wanna let you go,” I whisper, burying my face into her neck.
I inhale like a maniac. It makes my eyes roll.
My cock softens as I come down from my orgasm.
It falls from her stretched asshole. I escape to Mortensen's private bathroom and clean up leaving her in a well fucked induced coma.
I fully expect when I come back for her to be cleaned up and presentable, but instead I find her in the same spot I left her.
Bent over the desk like a fucking dessert.
At first I think I hurt her, but I quickly realize she's waiting for permission.
Thata’ girl. “Clean up,” I instruct, without missing a beat.
She whirls around. Her body is a vision.
It makes me want to claim her again, but I know we have shit to take care of.
It'll have to wait. I plan to indulge in her as much as I can. Her glorious body will always be mine.
xxx
Her dorm room had extra clothes. I couldn't have her running around half naked for the entire student body to ogle.
As much as I would love that, she's for my eyes only.
We walk hand in hand down the hallway. Hateful stares from the sidelines don't deter me.
Shit, if anything they fuel my desire to claim her publicly.
I imagine forcing her on her knees and jacking off on her pretty pouty face.
She looks so mesmerizing wearing my cum.
These fuckers will bow to their queen. They will show her respect.
Only I am allowed to disrespect her. A few glares take in my disheveled state.
I feel like that bitch Carrie. Clara doesn't say a word the whole walk to the Bugatti.
Like a gentleman or whatever, I open her door for her.
She slides inside in silence. I come around the other side and start it up.
“Am I allowed to see the location?” she asks hesitantly.
I chuckle knowing they probably took away her ability to see to bring her there.
Luckily, she won't ever have to worry about that ever again.
She's my equal. “Sweetheart, you're gonna be my wife. We own this shit. If anyone has a problem, they can try me.”
I assure her. That seems to pacify her for the moment.
The center console houses my cigarettes. I dig one out with my lighter, flick it open and light it. With it settled between my lips, I relish the nicotine buzz; it instantly works its way through my system. Fuck, it’s been an insane few weeks.
I hold one out to her. This is all she's gonna get to drown out any sorrow she's still harboring. She shakes her head. I shrug. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”
“What do you mean by wife? Kieran, I know a man like you can never settle down.”
She offers an awkward laugh that unnerves me.
Almost as if she cannot accept I could possibly care for her.
Does she think I say shit just to say it?
At one point in time, I would have agreed.
Our world has been turned upside down. I'm far too invested and we've been entwined far too much to walk away from one another.
I don't think I could function without her by my side.
“It means you belong to me,” I say simply.
We drive for a short time before pulling into the dusty gravel path hidden off the main road.
At one point I used to dread seeing this place.
Mortensen spent a lot of time testing me.
Though his favorite was the basement in the estate, this place has just as many fucked up memories.
Clara has a far away look in her eyes when we pull up.
The memories she has are just as painful as mine, only this time she has me by her side.
“I protect what's mine.” I break the silence.
I doubt my words offer her any comfort though; that shit isn't my wheelhouse.
I was the one who sterilized her here. I was the one who fucked her to prove a point to Mortensen.
She nods. I know she's been through hell.
We exit the car. I take her hand in mine again as a show of devotion.
The sinking feeling that usually haunts me jitters my insides.
The outer steel doors part for us just like I knew it would.
As we enter the Void, I bury the hatchet on my past bullshit.
I am God. I am the Sovereign. The inner doors swing wide, welcoming us.
The usual seductive atmosphere is replaced with something heavier and less inviting.
Not a single Elite is indulging in favors or spirits.
The mood is sullen. The quiet whispers seize when Clara and I step through the threshold.
A mix of hateful looks and curious eyes fall to us They know I'm here to address the bullshit.
Zain and my crew are huddled up in the back.
I nod in their direction. This could go in fuck all direction, but I call the shots now. I will be obeyed.
I lead her through the sea of bodies. They part for us. Unlike the autocratic ruler my father was, we will be the unparamounted duumvirates. Challenging me would be regrettable, but questioning her authority would be suicide. I situate us along the raised platform. All eyes are on her.
My heart jumps against my ribs. It thumps rhythmically along my chest cavity. I feel like a fraud. Like a black sheep. I count silently to myself hoping to drown out the anxiety looming over me like a distant shadow.
One.
“Why is she here?” voices whisper.
Two.
“Is breeding allowed? Look who he has with him!”
Three.
“She's not pure . . . ” another voice spits out.
The everlasting echo of Kieran's voice replays in my mind.
“You will be my wife.” I'm tired of feeling as if I'm not good enough and pushing everyone away.
I trust Kieran. With my very soul. We need each other.
Our feelings run deeper than either of us fully grasp yet.
We're entwined. We've been through the fires of hell, walking through the flames just to come out stronger. And we did that together.
There is no way I will ever let him down.
It's at this moment I realize our purpose.
Kieran and I are two halves. Only I am capable of keeping him grounded.
He will flounder in an endless sea of anger, sorrow and hate without me.
And without him I am a lonely shell of a woman who drowns in her past, letting it eat me alive like a parasite.
Apart, we will suffer, but together we will conquer the world. Fingers point in my direction.
His hand keeps a firm grip on mine. A silent tribute that we're in this together.
His fingers brush gentle strokes over my knuckles.
Only he can bring me down from those unhealthy places my mind drifts to, just as I do for him.
He knows I will follow him blindly into the pits of hell and darkness and he will lead me through to the other side.