11. Giselle #2
When he finally stalks off of the bed, I wipe the mixture of my release and his saliva off my face and stand and start to put my leggings back on. I look over to him, and I see that smug-ass smile on his face.
“This changes nothing, you know,” I snap through the silence, “if you think I’m going to just let it all go because you gave me an orgasm, you’re wrong.”
I look down to adjust my waistband as I casually finish my sentence. I don’t give a shit if he gave me a million orgasms, I’d never just forgive him. Hypothetical or not.
For a split second, his expression shifts. His gaze is sharp as he closes the distance between us again, but I’m unable to move further back as my nightstand stops me.
“Gave you an orgasm?” He almost chuckles at the words, but then he possessively runs his hand down my cheek to my jaw. “No, solnishko. I didn’t give you anything.” His lips curve into a slow, predatory smile, and my pulse quickens. “I fucking took it from you.”
His voice was rough but controlled, his words deliberate. “Your orgasms are, just like you, mine.”
My mouth goes dry at his words, but I force myself to keep up the glare that I’m holding against his gaze.
“I take pleasure, Giselle,” he uses his hand to grasp my jaw roughly, forcing my eyes to look into his as he continues.
“I will take your climaxes. I will coax every fucking moan, every twitch from your sweet body, because they all belong to me. Your body will no longer be your own when I’m done with you.”
I swallow hard, and I can see that he means every unhinged word that just fell from his mouth. He wasn’t just making a statement; he was staking a claim.
“You’re insane,” I say softly as I pull his arm off of me.
“And you,” he says with a grin, “are still trembling from what I just did to you. You can deny it all you want, solnishko, but your body doesn’t lie. It knows who it belongs to.”
My hands curl into fists at my side, and every muscle in my body tenses.
I want to scream. I want to shove him and tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t.
My body had betrayed me, and I did nothing to stop him when he took what he wanted.
I hate him for having that power over me.
I hate him even more knowing I’d probably let him do it again.
“Get out,” I spit, as I go to push past him.
He lets me go by, and his smirk returns.
“As you wish, wife. I have to get ready to go check on another shipment coming in first, though. Should I worry about you hunting me down and blowing something up again?”
I slam my dresser closed at his teasing words and turn to face him. I hate that I lose my words as I rake my eyes down his body. I grit my teeth as I see him enjoying my eyes on his body as he undresses, leaving himself in only his underwear.
“No need to be embarrassed, I’ve seen all of you now. You can look at your husband naked whenever you want.”
“Fuck you, I wouldn’t have let you do that if I knew you planned to hold it over my head.”
He comes a bit closer, his smirk not as harsh. He opens the other dresser beside mine and pulls out a fresh button-up.
“I’ll be at the warehouse, and when everything is under control there with the inventory, I’ll be going to a dinner with Volkov to apologize again and finish the meeting that was interrupted.”
I don’t answer as he talks, one of my brows going up as I listen.
“And Lana will not be there. I also won’t meet him at his house again.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Your trust is the only part of you I plan to never break,” he says matter-of-factly as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. “If you’re worried about Lana, or anything else, I’ll adjust.”
I look down, avoiding his eyes. Why the fuck does he always have to do this? He purposely pisses me off and then does something considerate like that. I never know when to hate him anymore. It’s uncomfortable not knowing when he’s suddenly going to change moods again.
“I didn’t ask you to avoid her family’s house. I asked you not to fuck her.”
“Then I’ll do you one better, solnishko. And if I have to meet someone somewhere you might find unprofessional again, I’ll let you know first.”
God I hate this. It’s like we’re married and we mean it. He doesn’t need to do this at all.
“Just promise me when I buy my new car, you’ll ask me if I deserve it first before you blow it up,” he says with a laugh as he slips his trousers on. I don’t answer, just watch quietly sitting on the end of the bed as he gets dressed.
He’s preparing to leave the room when I finally force myself to speak up.
The shame from my fuck-up has been eating at me and I can’t take it anymore.
It’s one thing to mess with Artem, and another to mess with the bratva.
I’m sure that his family and his men will assume I’m some stupid, crazy little girl for what I did and resent me.
It’s killing me inside feeling like I’ll drag his family down when I boasted for years about being a good fit as a Family Head.
“I won’t embarrass your family again,” I almost whisper, looking down at my lap. I’m surprised I was even able to squeeze the words out of myself, and they almost didn’t come out loud enough for him to hear.
He sighs and walks over to me again, towering over me as I sit, but his hand is gentle as it glides down the back of my head.
“You don’t embarrass me, you only drive me insane. You told me yourself I’d be lucky to have a chance with someone like you, didn’t you?”
My eyes look up to meet his, and I falter when I see his eyes staring right down into mine.
“I made a mistake. You reacted poorly. It’s handled, so just forget about it. I won’t cause that reaction from you again.”
I nod once, taking a deep breath. I’m shocked at his soft, reassuring words and promises. I’ve never had someone do this before or had anyone try to . . . work with me instead of insist against me.
His hand rests on my head now as he continues.
“Hold yourself proudly. You’re my wife. No one thinks poorly of you, I wouldn’t let them.”
I feel my heart flutter in my chest and he turns to leave the room.
“I’m the only one allowed to hate you so freely, solnishko,” he says with a devilish smile as he closes the door.
I can’t take any more of this fucking whiplash. Does this man even know the meaning of the word hate?
Yes, I let him distract me occasionally, but come on, a woman needs to cum once in a while doesn’t she?
How badly have I fucked up?
Because I didn’t know women could even get post-nut clarity, but now I feel like I’m panicking. I stand and pace the room and relive the last fucking twenty minutes of my life over and over.
I let fucking Artem . . . God no. I need Reina immediately.
No. Bad idea. She’s going to fucking celebrate.
I can never let something like that happen again.
No matter the tension we both have been ignoring the last nine years, we have literally never crossed this kind of line.
I’ve let it all get too blurred and crossed and now he thinks he’s got some sort of ownership over my body because I let myself get swept away.
Or maybe I let it happen because of the residual guilt over what I did?
I don’t even know why I did it.
And I want to slap myself because for some reason, now I’m chasing after Artem’s fucking validation just like I did with my father. I am not prepared at this point in my life to suddenly face the fact that I might have fucking daddy issues.
That’s the only explanation for this, right?
My dad rejects me my entire life, barely notices me unless it’s convenient for him or the Family, and then somehow right out of high school in a low moment I meet some bratva born asshole who says the same words my father has and I’m dying to show him he’s wrong.
I even dedicate years to him.
Oh my god.
I’m a fucking cliché.
Okay—yeah. I need Reina now.
I pick up my phone from the nightstand and quickly find her contact and press facetime. Please pick up.
“Hey! I’m with Michael, but—”
“Get in a bathroom or a panic room immediately, please. I don’t need him to hear this.”
She laughs but tells him she has to go talk to me alone as I pace the room waiting.
“God Gigi, what is going on? I haven’t seen you like this in years.”
“What’s going on? Only that I just realized I’m some twenty-something cliché with daddy issues and no future who is married to a complete sociopath who has a double life as a fucking sex demon trying to ruin my—”
“Okay. Take a breath. You’re going to pass out talking that fast.”
I try to stop myself and close my eyes and breathe for a moment. “I fucked up, Reina. I don’t know why but I said some weirdly intimate shit to Artem by accident and now suddenly he’s making me cum on a random Wednesday morning.”
Her facial expression causes my face to contort in humiliation as her jaw drops.
“Sorry—say that again? Making you what?”
“Please don’t make me say it again, I’m fucking mortified. I let him touch me and it was too real and normal, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you considered just . . . letting things develop however they do naturally? You’re overthinking this a lot.”
“Is that a joke? How could I ever do that after all these years? You don’t even know the extent of the things he and I have . . . ” I start to say but let my sentence taper off.