Page 17 of Bloody Tainted Lies

I sit back on my haunches, my legs still partially straddling her hips, and she begins to cough violently. Her hands reach for her neck as if I’m still strangling her, and her face turns a deep shade of red. Noticeable even in the low lighting. “Kill me, then.” Camilla smiles through the pain. “Put me out of my misery.”

I tsk, “No one said anything about killing you, Camilla.” I chuckle. “I think I’d like to see you suffer, but only if I’m the one causing the pain.”

With that, I get off her and stand next to the bed. She probably thinks I will leave now, but instead, I pick her up off the bed and carry her bridal style to the bathroom. I lean over the jet tub, turning the knob to the right temperature, then put her in.

She relaxes back in the water and looks up at the ceiling, showing how blown her pupils are. What the fuck did she take? And when? “You can go now, Nikolai.” My name on her lips makes me tingle, but there’s no way I’m leaving her here alone.

I laugh, “And let you drown?” I get undressed, taking off my pants first and then my black shirt, then join her in the tub. “What did you take?”

“What does it matter to you?” She smiles. “Wouldn’t it be best if I just died and Leo was devastated?”

“Oh, Milla.” I sigh, getting closer to her, then reach out and brush my thumb over the streaked makeup on her cheek. “You just said he doesn’t give a fuck about you.” I want him to indeed suffer, I just don’t think it’ll be due to her.

Camilla’s eyes water and her hand raises as if to hit me, but she lowers it back into the water as her lips tremble. “I know.” She whispers, “No one ever has.”

Fucking Liar.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’vealwayscared.”

She doesn’t reply.

“Come here,” I tell her, pulling her onto my lap until her cheek rests on my chest, and she wraps her arms around me tightly. “I’m sorry.”

“I know he doesn’t care about me.” She begins, “You know why I broke up with him. He still thinks he can get back at me by rubbing women in my face. But me? I’m helpless. Forever shackled to him.”

“So, what?” He’s going to do it anyway, in front of her or behind her back. I don’t see him being faithful to her—ever. “Let him.”

Camilla stiffens, “And have him make a fool of me?” She looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “So he gets to have sex with me whenever he wants, rub other women in my face, but I don’t get to do it with anyone else?”

That’s why he was so strung up when he found me with her. It wasn’t just an ego problem; it’s not that he doesn’t want anyone else to have her because she’s engaged to him. He’s fucked her repeatedly. That’s why he won’t let it go.

“That last part is up to you.”

“It’s not.” Her voice trembles slightly. “He will let them all take turns with me for being a whore. Leo already said he would.” Judging from how he talked to her, I wouldn't doubt it, but I should probably change the subject. It’s not far-fetched for her to think so, though; a small part of me wants to save her from that fate. Another part of me wants to see if Leo will suffer from losing her. Even if just a little bit.

“I won’t let that happen.”

I grab the soap from the ledge and lather her up, lingering on her tits a little longer because they’re beautiful. It’s a damn shame I hadn’t seen them earlier on. And when did she get them pierced?

I knead them softly, and she moans while digging her nails into my thighs. But I let go when she does. I don’t think I can control myself around her anymore, and she isn’t ready for what I want from her. I can tell. But I don’t care, I’ll get it one way or another.

When she’s all soaped up, she submerges herself to her neck, trying to rinse herself. Her face hasn’t changed at all, but her body? Her breasts are fuller, her hourglass figure more accentuated by her wider hips, and even though she’s thinner than she used to be, she looks like a woman. Even her legs are stronger, her muscles larger. You can tell she’s had even more years of dancing under her belt.

The way she keeps staring at me with those captivating eyes makes me want to leave her here and never return. This can’t be a good idea. If I get involved with her any further than I already have, my father might gut me before the Italians even get the chance. All because I fell in love with the wrong girl.

Once back up, she gets close to me, looking into my eyes. Her pupils are slowly getting smaller, and I can see more of her eyes. They’re a deep green with orange flecks in the center. What’s the most intriguing is the blue limbal ring, and it makes her eyes seem mystical. I’ve memorized every fleck and how they look with every emotion that crosses her face.

Camilla reaches up and brushes my dark hair away from my face, and we just stare at each other for what feels like forever. Not moving. I’m barely even breathing. I tilt my head slightly, trying to figure out what she wants, when she catches me off guard and presses her lips to mine.

My eyes close of their own accord, and the first thing that comes to mind is how I haven’t done this in a very long time. The last time was with her. It just feels too intimate. Fucking can mean nothing at all if you decide that, but kissing? That shit is personal. Hers were the best kisses of my life—the only ones. And I’ve never wanted to do it again with anyone but her. This feels like a gift.

I stay still as her hand wraps around the back of my head, pulling me in closer, and I groan when she sucks my bottom lip between hers. When she responds with her own moan, I nearly lose my composure. I want to fuck her in this tub, push her face under the water and drown her until she can’t think of anyone else.

Get it the fuck together.

But instead of doing all that, I thrust my tongue into her mouth because that’s the most I’m going to allow myself to do to her in this bathroom. I need to get out, yet she keeps digging her nails into me and pulling at my hair. It makes me want to hurt her even more. Mark her. Show everyone I own her.

I hear a thump outside of the bathroom, and I get out of the tub, sloshing water everywhere on the way out. I don’t bother drying myself and just put my pants and shirt back on, then take my knife out of my pocket.

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