Page 72 of Veil of Obsession
She’s close. So fucking close.
I press my cock harder against her, letting her feel exactly how much I want her. My fingers fuck her harder, deeper, faster, the obscene slick sounds filling her bathroom as my thumb rubs circles against her clit.
Her whole-body tenses. Her breath catches. Her mouth falls open…
And then she breaks.
I feel it. The sharp clench around my fingers. The way her body shakes apart. The long, shattered moan that spills from her lips as the pleasure wrecks her. She comes hard, her thighs trembling, nails digging into the counter.
I don’t stop. I watch her throat work, drawing it out, making her ride every second until she’s panting, boneless, weak. When it’s over, I hold her up, my hand firm on her waist to keep her from falling.
I lean in, pressing my lips against her throat, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.
“You can’t run from me,” I murmur.
She shivers, turning her head slightly, our lips almost brushing. She doesn’t answer right away. For a second—just a second—I think she’s going to fight me again. But then she exhales.
And nods.
“Fine,” she whispers. “We’ll try this.”
My smile widens. But she’s not done.
“In secret,” she says. “I’m still engaged.”
Something dark, possessive, and territorial unfurls in my chest.
I don’t give a fuck.
I lean in, pressing one last, biting kiss against her jaw. “Not for fucking long.”
27
Princess
Ishould have known better than to trust a fuckboy. I don’t even know why I agreed to those stupid terms as if he has a right to me. To my mind, my soul, my body.
He hasn’t answered any of his texts, and with the amount of texts I’ve sent him, not to mention the goddamn calls, I’m not only looking desperate as fuck, but also pathetic. All this over a fucking man.
I’m pacing my room, my nail beds wrecked with the amount of times I’ve ripped off the skin around them. A nervous tic of mine that my mother couldn’t beat out of me.
I don’t even know why he is doing this to me. Is it to mock me. To test me? Or was the whole thing all a lie?
The urge to grab my phone and call him again is strong, but I don’t even know what the hell I’d say. I’m not the one completely shutting him out and refusing to pick up or even text back.
And it’s not like I can look and see him through the cameras because he hasn’t been home since last night. So I’m fucking screwed.
The thing that’s eating me alive isn’t the fact that I don’t have access to him. It’s that I don’t know the reason for all of this. It’s the only question that seems to float around my damn fucking brain, and I wish I could think of a different thing to ask other than “why.”
Instead of wallowing up in my room, I yank my door open, leaving the urge to just lie in bed in my room and making my way down the marble stairs. Today is a beautiful day. Why should I waste it on him? He doesn’t even care enough to answer me.
The house is quiet. My brothers are probably out doing business. Dad is at another appointment with his doctors, and the witch is probably with him. Some of the staff are running around the kitchen. The black, heavy double doors leading into the garden are open, a soft breeze drifting in. I can hear the low notes of the windchime as I head out. The sun is a ghost behind the thin veil of clouds, casting a muted golden light over the garden.
I forego the slippers and just step outside onto the cool stone steps; the air is thick with the scent of the white roses that are planted in black vases all around the garden. The family townhouse looms behind me, ornate and elegant with its gilded balconies and intricate cravings, a monument to a forgotten century.
My fingers skim the vines curling around the black façade, clinging to the edges of the windows. I walk past the manicured hedges, my eyes on the shimmering pool, a couple of petals floating there.
I drop into the black lounge chair and grab the book that was abandoned on the glass table in front. The book practically falls open and lands on a page that is worn around the edges, as if it has been returned to over and over again. I can’t really read any of it, because it’s not in English. If I’m not wrong, I think it’s in Italian.
