Chapter Nine
Hannah
Ihaven’t seen Vik since the club.
Mainly because I’ve been too embarrassed to leave my bedroom whenever I hear him around the house. Luckily, he hasn’t been home much. He’s either at work, in meetings, or wherever the heck he disappears to during the day, leaving me with the place pretty much to myself.
Today’s different, though. It’s late morning, and Vik’s car is still parked in the driveway.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve only been here a few days. I haven’t had enough time to figure out his schedule or how he works. Besides, this moment was bound to happen eventually. We live under the same roof. Avoiding him forever isn’t an option.
With that in mind, I pull on a pair of baggy track pants and the oversized t-shirt I normally sleep in, before heading for the kitchen. I’m hoping that less enticing clothes will make it clear I’m not interested in taking this relationship any further.
But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the thrill of what happened that night at the club. Our bodies pressed together, fingers wandering where they didn’t belong...
The sting of regret that followed isn’t worth those few moments of excitement.
Put simply, I realize that I can’t control myself around him.
My mind switches off when I am near him, leaving nothing but cravings and the burning need to sink into his depravity.
The way he looks at me. The need burning in his eyes. His body trembling with desire.
I would have loved every second of it if he were anyone else.
But we’re practically family. We shared a home for years. Watched each other grow from children into young adults. It doesn’t matter that we’re not related by blood. Our bond is sacred in a completely different way.
Breaking it can only end badly.
Vik isn’t in the kitchen when I walk in, but it’s obvious he’s been busy here. He’s gathered all the fruit and vegetables that are nearing their expiration dates and chopped them into small pieces.
I walk around the island to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, when I hear something outside.
I peer through the blinds and spot Vik outside, beside the pool. He is soaking wet and kneeling at the edge, fiddling with the pool crawler’s filter.
An instant swarm of butterflies erupts in my stomach at the sight of him from behind.
I was right about him. His back is covered in tattoos that stretch across his overdeveloped muscles. They are similar to those on the front; intricate linework forms a dragon in the center, its wings spread across his shoulders.
“For God’s sake,” I mutter.
He really isn’t making this any easier.
He finishes whatever he’s doing and stands. I turn away before he catches me staring, but I don’t flee from the kitchen either.
I refuse to be made to feel uncomfortable.
It’s a difficult goal, but if I’m going to stay here, I have to face the awkwardness instead of letting it consume me. Vik being shirtless certainly isn’t helping. Neither is watching every muscle flex whenever he moves.
I return to the other side of the kitchen island, sip my water, and wait for him. We may as well get the awkwardness from the club out of the way so we can return to some semblance of normality.
“Morning,” I call as soon as I hear the back door open. Letting him know I’m here feels like the right thing to do.
“I’m making smoothies,” he says, coming in through the laundry. “Want one?”
“Su— Oh my gosh, what happened to you?”
My jaw nearly hits the marble countertop.
Vik looks like he’s gone three rounds with Mike Tyson.
His cheek is swollen and purple, although thankfully the bruise hasn’t spread to his eye.
Instead, there’s a small cut near the outer corner.
His knuckles are just as battered and split across the joints.
It’s impossible to tell whether the rest of him is injured beneath the black-ink pistols covering his chest.
“Went a little hard during sparring,” he says smoothly, almost casually. “Had to relieve some tension after...”
He winks.
It happens so quickly I’m not even sure I imagined it. But his tone carries the same playful wickedness, making this so much harder than it already is. It’s as if he wants to test the choice I’ve made to keep whatever this is between us firmly under control.
Even though he has no idea I’ve already decided that boundary can never move. Desperate to find some shred of resolve, I shake my head and wander over to the dining table.
Vik gets to work on our smoothies, dropping strawberries into the blender.
“You know it’s not going to happen again, right?” My words disappear beneath the roar of the blender.
“What was that?” he asks, switching it off.
I open my mouth to repeat myself. He flicks the blender straight back on.
He’s enjoying this. Enjoying watching me squirm. Relishing the thought that I—
No. That isn’t it.
I’m the one squirming because I want it.
Badly.
And that’s the problem.
We’re already standing on unstable ground. Changing the rules now will only muddy the waters even further. If we’re going to survive living together, there must be boundaries.
Even if they suck.
I pull my phone from my pocket to distract myself. No messages are waiting, so I open the news feed and start scrolling.
The usual doom-and-gloom. War. Famine. Death. Despair.
Then one article catches my attention. A home invasion that went wrong has resulted in the disappearance of an elderly man.
There are thousands of stories like this on my news feed every week, but this one feels different. Lindsey lives only a few streets away from where it happened. I skim the article until I reach a photograph of the man suspected of committing the crime.
He is obscured by shadows and almost impossible to make out. But I can see that he’s tall and broad, and dressed in a black turtleneck and combat pants.
He is wearing a mask that stands out, even in the grainy photograph.
Amid the darkness, the white skull concealing his face is unmistakable.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was looking directly at the camera on purpose.
Leaving behind a single image for the world to discover.
It’s almost as if he’s taunting his observers, convinced they’ll never catch him.
That’s just my imagination running wild, of course. I will latch onto anything that distracts me from Vik, even if it’s the monster staring back at me from my screen.
“What have you got there?”
I was so distracted by the article that I didn’t hear him come up behind me. Vik plucks my phone from my hands and studies the photograph.
“This guy looks insane,” he says before placing my phone on the table and sliding it away, out of reach.
I snap my head towards him, ready to glare.
Instead, my attention lands somewhere else entirely.
I am involuntarily drawn to the tent in his pants, which is hovering dangerously close to my face.
His swim trunks aren’t very good at hiding what’s inside, and even my quick glance reveals the full length of his thick, throbbing cock.
Why is my mouth watering…
“What are you—”
My words trail away as Vik’s hand glides up my arm.
“I admire your attempts to keep this clean, Hannah,” he says, one hand settling around my neck. “But we both know it’s too late for that.”
My pulse spikes, my head instinctively tilting into his touch. Staying strong is so much easier when there’s distance between us. When he’s this close, every part of me turns to jelly.
Weak.
Willing.
Fucking pathetic.
He holds my neck in a firm grip as his free hand slides to my upper thigh. His fingers claw underneath, and he grabs my ass firmly. He lifts me into the air without so much as a strained groan, and props my ass on the dining room table.
“I… thought you were making breakfast.”
A wide, toothy grin stretches over Vik’s lips at my wispy tone.
“Making? No.” He drops to his knees in front of me. “But I am about to feast.”
His hands move over my knees and slowly part my legs. He is teasing me. Inspecting my face as I melt into nervous arousal. He’s scanning for any reaction that might indicate my rejection of him, like the one I’d offered that night at the club or even a few minutes ago in the kitchen.
It doesn’t come. It can’t. It’s trapped in my throat behind a wall of excitement.
I act strong and try to fend off his advances when he's nowhere near, only to crumble at the first sign of his interest.
It’s weakness in its purest form, yet the only kind I can fully stomach and embrace.
When he’s satisfied with how spread apart they are, Vik scooches between my legs. His hands trail up my thighs, stopping at my waistband. He hooks his fingers beneath both my pants and panties, taking a moment to continue his inspection.
“Bet you couldn’t wait for this,” he says, yanking at my pants. I am reluctant to agree to that out loud, but I don’t disagree with him either.
Instead, I press my palms against the table, hoisting my ass up and letting him finish what he started. It only takes one more tug and my pants are flying down my legs, leaving me naked in front of him.
For the first time since we got to this position, Vik’s eyes descend. They stay glued to my pussy, as a thousand thoughts start racing through his head.
“Wet, pink, perfect,” he mutters, more to himself than me.
He grabs my ankles and abruptly hoists them over his shoulders, inadvertently pulling me closer. He licks his lips, eager for the meal he’s waited for days to get.
Vik starts against my inner leg, kissing and nibbling the skin toward his destination. His tongue makes contact with the wetness trickling down my thigh. He hums, pleased by the taste.
That first lick also sends him into a frenzy. The cautious approach he has taken until now, disappears with a groan. His lips descend to my pussy, wrapping around my clit, like a feral animal gorging on its first meal in days. His tongue slithers and laps at every inch it can reach.
My body jerks in response, driving my hips against his mouth. My hands shoot away from my sides and I coil my fingers in his dark locks. Short, sharp breaths hold back my moans at the overwhelmingly intense pleasure his mouth kicks through my system.
He lowers one hand, bringing it to my entrance and teasing the hole. The other ascends to my breasts. When his palm grazes my breast a delighted ah slips out of my lips and he squeezes firmly.
I collapse onto my back with the first plunge of one long finger sliding inside me. It moves slower than his tongue, which darts against and circles my arousal. His fingers are a tool meant to enhance the arousal, not detract from the main event.
And it’s working.
God, is it working. Well-timed and precise thrusts stimulate my insides while the outer walls are bombarded by his mouth. Ferocious devouring is mixed with graceful elegance in the purest harmony of pleasure.
I can’t hold the euphoria back any longer. Spasms of pleasure ripple through my body, and my grip tightens in his hair. Pulling him closer, harder, moaning in delight.
“That’s it, baby. I want to hear you scream,” Vik murmurs against my soaked pussy. His tongue slithers over my clit on every pause, rolling his fingers inside me.
I give him what he wants. A cacophony of satisfaction echoes through the vast expanse of his open-plan home. Moans, squeals and gasps, carry me over the edge of unimaginable pleasure. Vik continues pleasuring me through the crescendo.
He squeezes my breasts, licking whatever he can, and stroking my inner walls. Somewhere in it all, he slips a second finger inside me, and I don’t even notice.
As I come back down from the high he’s taken me to, Vik pulls away. I half-expect him to stand up and drop his shorts, replacing his fingers with the menacing largeness inside them.
He doesn’t.
Vik clears his throat, and inspects the mess he’s left me in, smiling all the while. He wipes his mouth and chin clean of my juices, and steps back.
“Where did that come from?” I ask, half-playful, half-sincere.
He gave no indication that we would end up doing this when he came inside. And I sure as hell didn’t give him any indication that this is what I wanted. But now I’m starting to wonder if that’s just a lie I tell myself to get by.
Because I can’t resist him, no matter how hard I try.
“Had to test your theory,” he says. “See if you’d give me what I want, or stay strong under pressure.”
“Ah, well…” Heat swells through my entire body, and I’m sure most of me is blushing this time, not just my cheeks. “You caught me off guard. I’ll prepare better next time.”
“Next time?”
I nod. If you could call the soft twitch of my neck a nod.
I’m inviting the chaos at this point, and I have no idea why.
“Until next time, then,” Vik says, and takes his first step away from me.
I am still sort of expecting us to continue. I am rather surprised that things are ending this way – again.
I launch myself off the table and follow him.
“Where are you going?” I have to rein myself in from grabbing his arm and pulling him toward me.
“My office,” he says. “I have work to do.”
“But—” I stop.
Vik doesn’t.
The feeling I had afterwards at the club, of being used, is the exact reason I vetoed the idea of doing this with Vik ever again. Now it’s happened again, but this time I can’t blame alcohol for my bad decisions.
His reaction leaves me stunned. I naively expected him to turn around and address my frustrations, even if I wasn’t as explicit about them as I could have been.
However, he is either oblivious to the fact that I’m still trying to talk, or he just doesn’t care. Either way, he slips out of the room without giving me any more.
I’m left dumbfounded, astonished and shocked.
Okay. I’ll let it slide for now, I suppose. At least I am feeling an afterglow of satisfaction and contentment.
Maybe I shouldn’t complain. After all, I’m still getting all the benefits of his lust.