Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Xeniya Morozova
His fingers were inside the blonde girl, and his mouth was on her clit.
And the only thing coloring my emotions was jealousy.
Outrageous jealousy.
It should have made me feel something else entirely, given what had just happened with Chad. I should have been disgusted or something. I wasn’t. I was curious and jealous. Deeply, sickeningly jealous.
It wouldn’t do.
If Severin knew, he’d be insufferable. That was his main personality trait when it came to me—at least in this area.
I took a drag from my joint and leaned my head against the house, watching.
At least it was a good distraction from the gross feeling swirling in my stomach. Severin was always a good distraction for me. He was always a firm foundation for me to return to. Even watching him with someone else.
The pool flickered in the moonlight and cast twinkling shadows onto Severin and his flavor of the week. Quite literally, unfortunately.
His flavor-of-the-week moaned loudly, her arms over her head, her fingers curling into the vinyl straps of the pool recliner. “Ah, yes, yes… please God, yes.”
“I am your god,” Severin murmured against her pussy, taking his time.
I should have stopped watching. I should have.
But I didn’t. Because fuck, watching him like this was starting to become a thing.
No, I didn’t like it, because I didn’t like anyone touching him.
Ever. Yet I was deeply—unapologetically—fascinated by him.
Fascinated by the way he moved. I wondered what it would feel like.
I’d touched myself before, but this… this was not like that.
And damn it, I wanted someone—anyone—to make me moan like that. Well, not anyone. Not Chad.
I could go inside, find Kaz, and ask him to sleep with me. He’d definitely do it just to spite Severin. But who was I kidding? I didn’t just want anyone to make me moan like that. I wanted Severin to do it. If I wanted anyone, I would have let Chad have me in the hallway.
No, it was Severin.
I didn’t know when or how he had clawed his roots deep into my heart, but he had. And I was rooted to the spot, watching him like a willow tree with all its branches swinging in the wind. Sad but beautiful. Strong, yet whimsical.
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t whimsical. I wished I could be.
I wished I could be vibrant, funny, and flirty, but I didn’t know how.
I was serious all the time because emotions and anything “girly” got me punished.
I was supposed to be like one of the guys, and so I had become this… whatever this was.
Stilted, severe, and boring.
Even after two years of freedom and two years of college.
Too boring for Severin, who exuded charm, sex, and charisma.
He lived life as if nothing could go wrong, turning everything into an adventure.
How he managed to have a personality that overflowed and dripped on everything and everyone, I couldn’t tell you, especially since he was beaten by his father so often.
He should’ve been broody like me.
But he wasn’t.
That was mostly infuriating.
He was the whimsical willow tree.
I took another long drag. I probably needed to stop smoking pot. I didn’t want to get too high. But before I could stamp out the joint, the flavor of the week—day—cried out, and Severin tapped her thigh like a masseuse at the end of a massage session.
“Now, that was fun, but run along before my guard thinks it would be far more fun to slit your throat than watch you cum.”
The girl’s gaze landed on me, and I might have been a little too intimidating because she quickly pulled down her dress, which barely covered her, and ran off into the house without a second glance.
“That wasn’t very charitable,” I said, my voice harsh.
“And neither is your expression, Zaya. You look like you’re going to kill her.”
“That’s always my expression.”
“Oh, I know.” He laughed and stood, his shirt pulling tight across his muscles with the movement. “Your resting murder face.”
He slowly—oh so frustratingly slowly—sauntered over to me like a peacock strutting his feathers, and just like a male peacock, he was stunning. Without warning, when he reached me, he stole my joint, popped it between his lips, and took a long, slow drag.
Well, fuck.
“Keep it.” I waved it away as he tried to give it back to me. “I have no interest in tasting her pussy.”
He clicked his tongue. “Jealous?”
“No.” Yes, but he didn’t need to know that. My lips fell into an even more severe line, and he inched closer, boxing me against the wall. It should have made me uncomfortable, considering it mirrored what had just happened with Chad.
But I wasn’t uncomfortable. I felt safe with Severin, and more than that, I was excited.
That was the problem.
“Liar.”
He clutched my chin and tried to run his thumb along my lip, but I turned my face, broke free of his grip, and ducked under his arm, pressing myself against the edge of the pool. I steadied my feet so I wouldn’t fall in.
“You do not get to touch me with hands that were just on another woman or a mouth that was between her thighs. You may not have standards, but I do. If you want to touch me, wash yourself.”
He raised one very manicured eyebrow. “Who said I wanted to touch you?”
“No one.” I shook my head. I was acting foolish and jealous, but I was also right. It was gross. “Except that you were trying to touch me.”
“Was I?” He prowled closer like a predator about to strike, and I knew I was in trouble.
Two seconds later, when my fully clothed body hit the water, I knew just how much trouble I was in. He’d pushed me into the pool, and my head sank underwater as he jumped in after me.
Oh, this fucker.
I was going to kill him.
My head burst into the night air, and I saw him staring at me. Glaring. Intently. His gaze was pure ownership.
He opened his lips and shot a mouthful of pool water at me like a geyser. He winked, as if to say, All clean, just like you requested.
I ducked my head under the water and closed my eyes, pulling a string of very imaginative Russian curse words into my mind. I opened my eyes, the chlorine stinging them, and discovered that he, too, was underwater… still staring.
My heart pounded in my ears, and time froze as I took in the boy I’d always wanted, even before I understood attraction.
God, he was so damn attractive, even wet, even underwater.
He swam toward me and curled one hand around my neck as he pushed me up out of the water and against the edge of the pool.
“It’s fucking winter, Sev,” I said, my back hitting the wall, air rushing out of me.
“And the pool is heated.” His hand was still around my throat. All dominance and possession. “You like watching me with other women, don’t you?” His fingers dug into my skin.
“Not particularly, no.”
“Oh, don’t lie, you little voyeur. It gets you wet, doesn’t it?”
“Seeing as I was thrown into a pool, I’d say I am very wet at the moment.” I pushed at his chest. “Now let me go.”
“No.” He chuckled. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“But I’m done with you.” I pushed him again, but I was like Sisyphus, forever stuck in futile labor…
forever pushing the boulder up the hill.
I should have been scared or annoyed, as I had been with Chad, but this was nothing like that.
This was right. Severin’s hands on me felt like home—felt like kismet.
One of his hands moved to the side of my face, and the other came up to cup my cheek. He tilted my chin up and moved into me, causing my chest to scrape against his. His eyes dipped to my lips, and I knew he was going to kiss me.
My heart jumped into my throat, and I let out a near sob, struggling to get away again. This could not happen like this. My first real kiss could not be with Severin after he had his lips and tongue on another girl’s pussy.
It just wasn’t fair, and it hurt far too much to explain. It was awful. So fucking awful.
My stomach churned, and I wanted to scream.
“No, Severin, don’t,” I said, my voice wobbling as I shoved at his chest one last time. “Please just don’t.”
His gaze raked across my face, and he could tell I was serious. Pained. He released me, his face falling as if I had slapped him.
He floated back, his expression hard, his eyes nearly black.
A mix of heated emotions passed between us, and I felt like coagulated paint—gooey, disgusting, and barely useful.
Quickly, I turned, placed my hands on the edge of the pool, and lifted myself up and out of the water. Walking—no, running—away from him, not looking back once as I disappeared into the house.
Soaked and freezing.