Page 31 of Blackmailed to the Altar

Sebastian

I woke up disoriented, the familiar tightness in my chest suffocating me, as I blinked against the dull light filtering through the curtains. The scent of lavender lingered softly, a stark contrast to the sharp metallic tang of blood that filled my senses. I lifted my hands and stared at the gloves. Were there stains on them?

I couldn’t tell, but I could see that my wrist had something on it. The crimson smears that stained my skin, dried and crusted around my sleeves like a ring. Panic surged through me, cold and unrelenting. Something was truly wrong with me. Was I sleepwalking? Whose fucking blood was this?

I looked around, my surroundings slowly coming into focus; I was outside Mya’s room. I walked inside and took it all in. The delicate lace of her curtains, the soft blue walls, the faint scent of her perfume still clung to the sheets, but she wasn’t here. The sheets were cool to the touch in her spot. I tried to piece together the fragments of my memory, but all I got was a series of jagged flashes. My rage. Mya’s wide eyes, the sickening crunch of bones collapsing in his throat as his father brutally took his life on my order. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus the images inmy mind, but they vanished like shadows. I was losing control, losing myself.

I staggered to my feet, my body aching from whatever the other me had put it through. The blood was dried now, dark and flaking, but it was a grotesque reminder of just how far gone I was. I raced to my bedroom across the hall and stumbled into the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror looked more like a stranger than myself. My eyes were the same, but hollowed, as if something had taken residence inside of me. I couldn’t let her see me like this. I was losing my mind, and the smart doctor probably saw the cracks from a mile away. I tore my suit off, along with the gloves, and tossed them into a black garbage bag I kept on the back of my door for such occasions.

A servant would collect it and hand it over to Daveed, or someone from his crew.

I hadn’t needed to use such a bag in years. Now I stared at my body in the mirror to check for injuries. I turned and saw none. I knew it wasn’t my blood.

Vicious dark thoughts filled my head as I stepped into the tub. I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. I’d had Mya in the middle of a restaurant on a dead body? That sounded like something out of a horror film.

I wasn’t sure why my cock liked that imagery, but before I knew it, I was stroking myself vicariously.

“Mouse,” I whispered, my voice cracking in the space. I watched the reel in my mind like it was a movie, an out of body experience, as I stood and fucked her into oblivion. It didn’t feel like me, but it looked like me.

“If you hadn’t touched him, he would be alive right now.” The thing that looked like me unbuckled my pants, and slid out my hard cock, rubbing my Prince Albert piercing.

“N-no,” she stammered. “You did thi–”

Alien me slid into her dry cunt with a grunt, effectively shutting her up. “It wasn’t me who did this, firecracker.” He thrust inside of her, tweaking her nipple, and grinning at the trickle of wetness inside of my woman.

“I–”

“You don’t get to speak.” He slammed deeper inside of her, and grabbed her throat. “You feel so fucking good.”

I gasped as I drew close. My orgasm crested from the pornographic imagery in my mind.

She cried out, her walls tightening against the thing that looked like me, as if she was forcing him out.

“You’re gagging for my cock, aren’t you?” he whispered.

“N-no.” She tried to deny him, but he thrust inside again, dislodging the body from underneath us. Mya gagged.

“Can’t take the sight of a body, doctor?” He sneered in her face.

She whimpered, but her pussy throbbed around our cock. I could feel it.

When she came, he lifted her up and slammed her harder on my, our, dick. “Say you’re mine,” he commanded.

She looked away, but when her eyes locked on the open ones of the dead body, she looked back at him.

He drew her face closer. “Say. It.”

She cried out, “I’m yours.”

I came with a roar when she called herself mine in my fantasy. I couldn’t help that I loved those words on her lips, even if it was fake, some weird fantasy I’d conjured up all on my own. It wasn’t wrong if I was dreaming of it. I couldn’t be held accountable for my thoughts.

When my heart settled down, I climbed out of the now icy water and toweled off. I threw on some boxers, a fresh pair of gloves, and slid between my sheets. I was fooling myself. She’d never be mine. Not really. Not in the way I wanted. I let out ashuddering breath as I laid awake, staring at the ceiling. I was toeing a dangerous line. Could I trust Mya with something like this?

If my men found out I was losing my mind, they would revolt. One of them would think they had the balls to take me on. He would fail. So would many that came after him. But the chaos that would reign, the destruction it would bring to the famiglia, wasn’t worth the risk.

I needed that pretty doctor now more than ever. I would find her tomorrow and show her a different side of me. If she became as obsessed with me as I was her, then we could both feel this torture together. I fell into a restless sleep after that.

The next morningwas full of boring meetings, and I had barely any time at all to even look at my little mouse on video, let alone see her in person. I was missing her sweet scent though, and wanted to rush my way home.

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