Page 18 of Twisted Empire: King's Gambit

“Call out the name of the one you’ll worship from now on, my sweet girl,”

And I do … I fuckingscreamit.

His cock pulses inside of me at the same time my orgasm hits and now I get it when women say they can see stars. Because Mikhail’s massive cock just had me seeing them.

Out of breath and spent, I feel him pulling out of me and I’m vaguely aware of falling to the side and watching him enter the bathroom. My mind is a jumbled up mess when I hear the shower running.

I’m not sure how long I was laying there for but when Mikhail walks out of the bathroom and into the walk-in, I realize it must have been for a while. After a few minutes, I hear him leave the bedroom and everything comes crashing down.

What the hell just happened?!

Alone at last, I robotically make my way to the bathroom and step into the hot embrace of the shower.

The warm water hits my skin, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I allow myself to break. My hands clutch the tiled walls as sobs rack my body.

I think of my sister, who hated this man so much that she wanted to die and the life I’ve left behind—my dreams, my aspirations, and most of all, Damien. A face I will likely never see again, framed by a life I can never return to.

And now that’s all been replaced by a cold, loveless contract and a man who can barely stand to look at me. A man I defy at every turn.

A man who just fucked the life out of me and I allowed him to.

I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the shower floor, letting the water wash over me as though it could cleanse the desperation that clings to my soul.

I don’t think the gravity of the entire thing, the marriage, my sister’s death or my father’s true colors have sunk in until this moment. I allowed that to happen when I could have just pushed him away.

You’re so fucking stupid, Gabriette; this man owns you now. Body and fucking soul. He did say he won’t take what I’m not willing to give, and I just gave my all.

But I’ll allow myself this one moment of vulnerability, this brief indulgence in sorrow, because from tomorrow, there will be no room for weakness.

Even though I’ve been out of this life for years, I know what’s expected of me. I know I have to please this man even if I want to murder him in cold blood. Even if he just gave me the best sex of my life.

Mikhail might see me as nothing more than a contract-bound obligation, but I refuse to be the submissive wife he likely expects.

I’ll match his coldness with fire, his indifference with defiance. But tonight, just for tonight, I’ll let the walls crumble and the tears flow.

When I’m done, I turn off the shower, dry myself, and put on one of the plush robes hanging behind the door.

As I look at my reflection in the mirror, I see a stranger staring back at me—someone caught in a web of power struggles and marital contracts, reduced to nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.

The room feels colder as I leave the bathroom. After getting into a tank top and shorts, I slip under the covers of the king-sized bed. I can’t shake off the feeling of Mikhail’s icy gaze, as if he’s still watching me, studying me.

Calling me his good girl.

I can’t let that happen again; can’t allow myself to give in to Mikhail. This life might be a prison, but I will not be its submissive inmate.

GABRIETTE

It’s 7:00 am according to the bedside clock—a new day, another challenge. It’s strange how life can switch tracks so quickly.

I turn my head and see the rumpled sheets indicating that Mikhail must have come back to bed and left before I even woke up. Wow, I must have been completely out of it to not feel his large body next to me.

Guess I was thoroughly fucked, then.

I sit up and immediately feel the ache in my lower regions. Damn, I never thought I’d hurt after a good dick down, but also it shows that last night wasn’t a bad dream, after all.

Sighing, I go about my business and get dressed in a fresh outfit picked from the wardrobe that mysteriously has all my correct sizes. I head downstairs and the aroma of good Italian coffee beckons as I enter the kitchen.

But then my heart bottoms out because Mikhail is there, leaning against the counter, engrossed in his phone.

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