Page 38 of Wicked Vow

I have no way of knowing just yet if it’s Natalia’s room, but I freeze in place anyway. I stand there, insensible to anything other than the possibility of seeing her–and then I do.

She’s standing there, silhouetted in the warm light of the room, the curtains open to the wide window looking in to the second floor. I step back quickly towards a row of hedges, crouching down and looking quickly around for guards before I focus on her window again.

Why did you change rooms?Did you not feel safe?The thought incenses me. I want her to feel safe, to know that I’d never let anyone hurt her, never let anyone touch her.Mine, I think as I watch her start to take off her earrings, my gut clenching at the thought of anyone making her feel as if something bad might happen to her.

I’d told her that I’d keep her safe. I’d shown her when I’d killed the man stalking her. And yet, I’d lost her anyway.

I watch as she slips the pins out that is holding her hair back, letting it fall in rich honey waves around her face. Her hands reach up to take off the necklace she’s wearing, and I can feel my fingertips itch to do it for her. I can imagine it all too easily, standing behind her in the warm light of the room, sliding my fingers down the nape of her neck as I undo her necklace, as I slide down her zipper, as I strip her bare.

I can almost hear the soft moan that she’d make, feel the way she’d lean back into my touch. My pulse leaps into my throat as I see her reach for my zipper, and I can feel my cock hardening with anticipation.

Fuck. I realize with a sudden rush of frustration that if she’s moved rooms, it means that I won’t be able to listen in on her any longer. I can’t risk breaking into the house twice. The thought of not hearing her the way I did that night feels like almost physical pain, and I grit my teeth, refocusing on what’s in front of me.

Natalia, taking off her dress.

She’s not taking it off for me, but it’s all too easy to imagine that she is. Her head tilts to one side, her hair brushing over her shoulders as the straps slide down. I can imagine my hands there, smoothing over her arms, savoring the warmth of her skin as the bodice of the dress falls down. The shimmering fabric peels away from her, and my breath catches in my throat as I see it slide away from her breasts, leaving them bare in the warm glow of the light, small and perfect, the rosy nipples soft.

My hands burn with the need to touch her. I want my mouth on her, sucking her nipples into my mouth, licking and nipping at them until they’re stiff and hard, her hands in my hair as she moans with pleasure. I want to rip the dress away from her, and I let out a hiss of frustration at the fact that I can’t see below her waist from my vantage point.

She looks out of the window, and I freeze, though I know she can’t see me. I wonder if she’s remembering that I’d told her I’d watched her from outside her apartment, if she’s recalling the feeling of eyes on her, seeing her at her most vulnerable, her most intimate.

Her hand goes up to touch her breast at the same time that her other hand slides down the flat, smooth skin of her stomach, and mine is at my zipper before I can stop myself, feverishly palming my cock as I slip it free and wrap my hand around the aching shaft.

As soon as I feel the friction of my hand over my throbbing flesh, I know it’s not enough. I’ve gone too long without her now, and stroking my cock, even like this, can’t compare. The thrill of watching her without her knowledge, even as I see her breath quicken and her head tilt back and know that she’s starting to touch herself, isn’t enough. It doesn’t feel the way it used to.

I don’t want to watch her without her knowledge. I don’t want to hide in the bushes stroking my cock while she touches herself in the privacy of her room, wondering if she’s thinking of me or some other man. I don’t want to imagine what it would be like to touch her.

I wanther. I want her body under mine, her face in my hands, her mouth open for my tongue. I want my cock thrusting inside of her, the sweet sound of her moans in my ears, the arch and quiver of her beneath me as I make her come, the scent of her in my nostrils, and the taste of her on my lips. Nothing else will ever be good enough now that I’ve had that.

Her hand is moving faster now, her teeth sunk into her lower lip as she touches herself standing there, and I can imagine how soft she is, how wet, the sounds that her fingers are making as she rubs her clit, faster and faster, pushing herself to the edge. I know all of her more intimately than I’ve ever known anyone, and the ache that spreads through me isn’t one of pleasure. It’s one of longing, of a need that nothing other than her in my arms can satisfy.

I see her mouth open, see her shudder, and I’m dimly aware that I’m coming too, my body throbbing as my cock strains in my hand and spills my cum into the grass, but it’s a hollow pleasure that I hardly notice. It’s not what I want.

I know what it’s like to be with her now,reallywith her, to give myself over to her and forget everything else and to feel her do the same.

This can’t compare.

I want to go to her. It feels like a physical pain to see her step away from the window, retreating to her bed. I fumble with my zipper, tucking my cock away as I look for any signs of security, but I’m still half-watching the window, hoping for one more glimpse of her.

This can’t be it. This can’t be all of her that I’ll ever have again.

It hits me all over again, as the light goes off in the room, how deeply I’ve fucked up–and what I might lose as a result of my mistakes. I know I have to leave, and quickly, or I’ll likely be caught.

But as I start to leave the grounds, nothing has ever felt as hard as walking away from her.

Nothing has ever felt as hard as leaving her there.

Natalia

“Ishouldn’t have agreed to the date.”

Both Sasha and Ruby are in my room, Sasha perched on the edge of my bed as I go through my closet. In true Ruby form, she’s already hit it off with my sister, even more thrilled to meet Sasha than I would have expected. Ruby is leaning back against the pillows, sitting cross-legged as she watches me, and she frowns.

“What’s wrong with a date? What could go wrong?”

“You know,” I say pointedly, glancing back at her, “the last time you said that, I started going on dates with Mikhail.”

“That was an error in judgment, I’ll admit.” Ruby narrows her eyes at me. “Which means you definitely should go on this one. I can’t be wrong twice.”

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