Chapter 51
2785words
I've never felt so certain that my mind is about to split in two.
I want him ... I need him ...
I fucking hate him.
The things Asher has done to me that merit cutting him from my life are numerous. But with his cock pushing its way inside me, sending waves of pleasure that make my mouth water, it's easy to justify them.
It's even easier to forget them.
Throwing my head back, I dig my nails into his shoulders. His shirt blocks my traction; I yank at it until it's over his head. With his skin exposed to me, I drag my fingers roughly over his back, creating red rows that make him hiss.
I've never been elated at hurting someone before. But the thought that I can hurt him is addicting. I can't focus enough to control it—and why should I try?
When his cock forced its way into my mouth, it drove all thoughts out of my mind. When he forced me to swallow his cum, it made me crave more.
I shouldn't feel like this toward him. He's a monster! He's been tricking me since day one! Yet I can't help it when he steps close to me. And when he demanded that I beg him, nothing in the world could've made me do anything else.
Unable to handle the contradictions fighting in my mind, I put my teeth to his left shoulder and bite. He grunts as I dig my mouth into his star tattoo. If I can strip him bare, ink and all, leaving his soul naked before my eyes, I'll do it.
'Camila!" he bellows. It's not a sweet way to say my name.
'Fuck you!" I scream into his flesh.
I don't dare draw blood again, so I stop short, my jaw throbbing as I release him with a rattling exhale. He captures my chin now that I'm vulnerable again and claims my lips. I nip his tongue. His cock swells as if he's enjoying the pain.
What's the point of harming him if he likes it?
Because it makes me feel good! It's a weak excuse, but I grab onto it anyway.
My inner voice goes silent as he drives his hips forward. A single thrust of his cock makes stars burst behind my closed eyes. A second thrust sends my ears ringing like a church bell. A third thrust draws a surge of pleasure from deep within my bones. Heat builds in my core, my pussy clenching hungrily to his shaft as he fucks me.
As split as my mind is … it can't win the battle with my own desperate need, which he incites within me. Asher can control me. He knows exactly what I like and what I want. His intelligence was never in doubt; my issue is the way he utilizes it. Forcing me to fall apart like this is pure evil.
And still …
I love it.
The perverse nature of this moment is turning me on. A dark part of my soul revels in our hate fucking. The pent-up emotions we've been restraining from each other are finally being allowed out. And the only thought that remains is that this feels so fucking good, so fucking satisfying.
Hooking one leg around his waist, I strain my calf muscles in an attempt to force more of his length inside of me. Asher responds by pumping into me with new energy. Fucking me with powerful thrusts of his thighs, he brings one of my nipples to his lips. His suckling pulls a whimper from me—his teeth grazing the sensitive tip gets a scream. It's his turn to show me how he can use his teeth.
His teeth move over my sensitive breasts as he switches between them both until they're tender and raw. Every tiny burst of pain is followed by a light lashing from his tongue and a gentle tugging of his lips.
Pleasure courses through my body. I slam my hips against his hard body, the impact sending ripples of pleasure deep into my core. Asher hasn't stopped toying with my breasts; the longer he works at them, the faster my pulse races.
And then I feel it…
Oh. He's going to do it … He's going to make me...
My pride takes over for a brutal second. Sensing my orgasm advancing on me, I try to slip away. His cock continues to pound me into oblivion. In a desperate act, I try to tell my brain not to come.
Asher leans over, his breath steaming in my ear. 'Don't you dare fucking fight it. Come for me, ptichka."
The orgasm hits me out of the blue, and my toes curl as it overwhelms me. I toss my head and scream. 'Fuck!" My voice cracks. 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
'This is what you fucking want, isn't it?" he roars, slamming into me again.
'YES!" I scream back as tears begin rolling down my face. Are they tears of pleasure? Tears of hate? Both? I don't know anymore, and I don't care. All that I know is that I never want this moment to end.
'MORE!" I shriek. 'I want more!"
'Is this not enough? Am I not enough?" He's not talking about sex.
Spinning me, he rips his cock free of my pussy. One palm slaps my ass; another follows, until he's spanking me without pause. My skin goes from buzzing to numb to on fire. I can't believe he's doing this … But what's more shocking is how my pussy is practically gushing. Another orgasm overtakes me, sending deliciously hot tingles to my brain, my clit, my veins.
Seizing my middle, he pulls me away from the edge of the table until I'm bracing myself on the floor. My whole body jolts forward with the force of his cock entering me from behind, and slowly, I feel my face being pressed to the floor while my ass sticks in the air as Asher fucks me like he's trying to drive every brain cell, every emotion, from my being.
His powerful hand takes hold of my head and holds me down. I'm clay that he's sweating to transform into something else.
He wants me to behave … to be his obedient little wife.
It's a deliciously dirty thought in the moment. I can imagine obeying his every command, bending to kneel at his feet. He'll stroke my hair … play with my nipples … make me come in a way no one else ever has.
But that wish of his can't come true.
It shouldn't come true.
What's crazy is my primal brain wants it to come true. And the way he's pumping into me, one hand diving beneath to rub my clit, I know it's only a matter of time. 'You're so loud," he groans. 'Listen to yourself!"
'Fuck you!" I say again, but the words feel empty and meaningless.
His fingers wrap around my throat, and his thumb pushes against my lips. 'Suck," he demands.
God help me, I do it.
My lips close around his thumb, and my tongue swirls around it as I suck at it like it's his cock. The salty taste of his cum lingers in my mouth. The sensation spirals us both over the edge. With my thighs twitching, I moan around him as my climax drains more of my strength.
Asher's shaft grows thicker inside me. It flexes, warning me he's about to come.
'Yes," he grunts, his sweat dropping onto my body to mix with mine. 'Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Drops of sweat patter onto my back like rain. He stops playing with my clit; his fingers dig into my hips to hold me still. Searing hot cum pours inside of me. He doesn't pull out when he's empty—he leans deeper, like he's trying to get every single drop as deep into my core as possible.
His breathing is hoarse. Both of us sound like we've sprinted a mile. I go limp, stretching out on the floor as he pulls from me with a wet, obscene noise.
'Camila," he says gravely.
I don't lift my head. 'Get out," I whisper.
Asher lingers a while. Neither of us talks, though there's plenty to say. I hear his zipper grind upward and the scrape of cloth on cloth. Lifting onto my elbows, I watch as he whirls around, outfit in shambles, and storms out the door.
I let out a shaky breath before propping myself up. His cum oozes out of me, making a small puddle on the floor. I dip into my sensitive opening and hold up my fingers, admiring the white glazing them. Without thinking, I slip them into my mouth and lick each drop, losing myself in the taste of him as my heart thunders in my rib cage.
It takes minutes before I come back to reality.
Angry red marks are on my chest and elbows. I bend my arms, wincing as I touch the tender areas. What's crazy is the rush I get from seeing the damage he's left behind. Each mark reminds me that I belong to him. That I will always belong to him.
Asher is gone from the room, but I feel his presence all around. He left his mark on me in more ways than just the scratches.
That asshole. Yes, as the wetness cools inside my thighs and my body heat returns to normal, I feel like I did something wrong. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't thrilled by the dark side he inspired in me.
Our hatred for each other spiraled out of control. I spiraled out of control.
And it felt so good.
He only sees me as a tool. I'm nothing to him. He respects his gun more than me. Lying back against the table, I stare at the ceiling fans that swirl lazily above. I lift my hand, fingers spreading. My wedding ring glints in the light like a star.
'Asher," I whisper to myself, 'you were lying from the start."
He doesn't want a real wedding. He just wants something more concrete to leverage against Yannick. He only wants me now because I'm Yannick's daughter.
It doesn't matter if he knew or not; the result is the same—I'm here to help him defeat Yannick. It wasn't about keeping me or my mom safe. I drop my hand, tracing it over my belly absently. My stomach is flat, but I picture the roundness that awaits me. I never made it that far with my last pregnancy.
If I'm not careful ...
I won't this time either.
Shutting my eyes tight as a wave of agonizing shame overwhelms me, I hold back a small whimper. I don't want to cry—I want to be strong. I need to be strong. I have to keep myself together if I'm going to figure out what to do next.
Slowly, I push myself up with help from the table. It takes me a moment to gather all my clothing. The wet panties make me feel even more ashamed to put them back on, but I'm not leaving them here in this room for someone else to stumble upon.
I adjust my hair and dress. When I stare at my reflection in the glass surface of a framed painting on the wall, I see that he left his marks on my neck, my chest … everywhere.
I gingerly brush the redness on my neck from his hand. The impression looks just like his fingers.
Again, I expect a shiver of disgust.
But all I feel is a shameful flutter of pleasure that rises to meet me.
He's corrupted me. I wasn't like this before. The idea leaves me feeling empty. How else have I been transformed because of this brutal man? I should have known better. How can anything but bad things happen when you spread your legs for a killer? I was crazy to think there was potential here for a happy future. God, I'm so stupid.
Glancing up, I spot the large fridge in the corner. Now that I'm alone, I can study this room with more scrutiny. From the polished floors to the decked-out bar, Asher has spared no expense. Opening the fridge, I find bottles of expensive mineral water among the rows of beer. Whom does he entertain here? I wonder, cracking a bottle. Chugging the water, I revel in the chill of it rolling down my throat, chasing away my own fevered desire.
With a relieved gasp, I wipe my wrist over my lips. I give the room another curious stare.
I start opening drawers in the cupboards. One of them contains a row of shot glasses. Lifting one out, I can tell by the heft that it's expensive. On its side is an engraving. Kostya, I read, my heart racing. Placing the glass back, I check the next. Mikhail. Another. Nikolai. I'm reading all of them rapidly now. Iosif, Bogdan, Lev ... These are all Asher's men.
The final shot glass has a gold line circling the upper ridge. It's bigger than the rest. I'm not shocked when I read Asher's name carved into the surface. This is their little clubhouse, I realize. Picturing all of them laughing in here, plotting their next moves—planning how to use me—makes my blood boil.
I bet he asked them what he should do with me. How to best manipulate me in his war with Yannick. I bet he's going to brag to them how he fucked me here.
Scowling at the empty air I've filled with pretend images, I slam the cupboard shut. Whatever rage had started to cool returns with a vengeance. With it comes the raw grief I'd been holding at bay.
Stalking around the room, I drop heavily onto a large leather couch. It's incredibly soft and comfortable, and somehow it makes me feel worse. He creates these bubbles of luxury for everyone. He works to give the illusion that he cares. But it's all a joke ... all of it. Nothing was ever real. Holding my head in my hands, I curl into a ball. It's instinctual—a way to protect myself.
It doesn't help me feel safe.
Nothing will do that except ...
Except leaving Asher.
The concept jolts me like a bolt of lightning. Yes, that's it. I can't be here. Everything he did ... everything he said was a lie from the start. I can't trust him ever again. That much is for sure. The only thing I know for sure right now is that I have a baby to keep safe.
And my mother. I got her mixed up in this too.
I hate myself for dragging her to this place. Asher swore she'd be safe with him, but that was another damn lie.
My love for my mother and this growing baby are the only things that are real anymore. If I want to keep him from ruining them both, I have to get away from him.
It's common sense. But the moment I realize what I must do, my muscles constrict, making it a challenge to draw a full breath in. I was already hugging myself. But now, I ball up tighter. The tension behind my eyes threatens to become a shower of tears. What's wrong with me? Why does this hurt? I've agonized over every awful thing Asher has done to me. I can make a list that stretches endlessly.
Don't you see it, you stupid girl?
Unfolding myself from the couch, I see that my palms are wet. The crying has started. My fingers curl, trembling. The sight of my wedding ring brings a mix of sorrow and bitterness. Gripping it, I give it a tug. Either my finger is too swollen, or I'm not trying hard enough, but the result is the same.
It won't come off.
My arm goes limp as I slump on the couch.
I've come to a more frightening realization than Asher using me for his own gain—one that's sapped my strength.
I can't take the ring off because I don't want to.
Rubbing my belly, I try to think only of my child. Instead, Asher's face flashes in my mind. My heart gives a sympathetic throb. As much as I want to loathe the man to the bottom of my soul …
I don't.
And just then, another dirty memory enters my mind of a time when three dangerous little words unexpectedly slipped out of my mouth as he was buried inside me. Three words that became real somewhere along this twisting path of betrayal and confusing passion.
I love him.
