Page 31 of Twisted Fate

What I need is to come inside of her. My softening length twitches at the thought, eager again already. I grit my teeth, trying to find my resolve from before. Nothing has changed. I had a moment of weakness, but it was a moment.

I can draw my lines in the sand again, and stay behind them this time.

When I’m dried off from the shower, I drag on a pair of boxers and collapse into the bed for some much-needed sleep, hoping I won’t dream of Sophia.

I have no such luck. She pervades every inch of my dreams, her soft skin and high-pitched cries and the sweet taste of her filling every restless hour that I sleep, until I wake aching and desperate for another release.

Ten minutes later, when I’ve stroked myself to another orgasm and come back from cleaning up, I glance at the clock. It’s almost time for dinner, and I focus on getting dressed, finding a pair of dark chinos and a black linen shirt.

Sophia is already at the restaurant when I arrive.

I spot her immediately at the bar, her fingers wrapped around the stem of a glass of red wine.

Her dark hair is pulled back from her face in thick curls held back by a diamond clip, and she’s wearing a dress the same color as the wine, with large white flowers embroidered across it.

The slit on the leg facing me is high, making the skirt fall over her leg nearly at her hip, showing me all that long expanse of tanned skin that I so nearly had wrapped around me last night.

One look at her, and I can feel my arousal swelling.

I’m taking inventory of her, noticing her poise, the way she seems to have carefully chosen a spot to sit that gives her a view of every entrance and exit, the way her eyes are always alert, but my cock doesn’t care about any of that.

All it wants is to get inside of her, and I’m half-hard by the time I reach her side.

She smiles at me as she turns to face me, and I have the unsettling feeling that she knew where I was in the room before I ever got to her. The smile on her face is genuine enough that it almost shakes my discomfort—almost, but not quite.

“Did you get some rest?” she asks as she picks up her wine glass, following the waiter with me at her side to our table. “You must have needed it.”

“I did.” I don’t bother telling her about my dreams, or how I woke up aching for her. I don’t need to put myself at a disadvantage. I think she’s already more aware of my desire for her than I’d like for her to be.

“Did you make your calls?” She takes a sip of her wine as the waiter walks away.

“I did. Security will be arriving in the morning. Discreetly, of course, in accordance with the rules of the resort.”

Her smile brightens, but something in it seems oddly hollow. I can’t explain it, only that it doesn’t seem to reach her eyes quite the way it did before. “So we’re staying?”

I look at her quizzically, reaching for my menu. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She nods quickly. “Yes. Thank you, Konstantin. It…” She swallows hard. “It means a lot to me.”

There’s something in her voice, some quirk of sound that almost seems like guilt, that I don’t quite understand.

But I just nod, reaching for my own drink as the waiter returns with it.

“I want to make you happy in the ways that I’m able to,” I tell her carefully.

“I know not everything might be the marriage you hoped for. But I’ll do what I can. ”

She nods, pausing for a moment as she glances over her menu. Then her eyes flick back up to me. “How much security is your father sending?”

I tilt my head slightly. “Why are you asking?”

Her lips press together. “I’m just curious. After what happened?—”

“Three or four, probably. They’ll be unobtrusive, I promise.”

Something flickers across her face—frustration? Concern? It's gone too quickly to name.

"Is that many necessary?" she asks, her tone carefully neutral.

"Someone tried to kill me yesterday. And the night before." I keep my voice low, mindful of the other diners. "So yes, I'd say it's necessary."

She nods, conceding the point. "Of course. I just thought...we handled it without anyone else. One or two extra security I could see, but…"

"We did." I lean forward slightly. "You handled it remarkably well, in fact."

The waiter returns, and we both put in our orders. I can see a hint of wariness in Sophia’s eyes this time when the waiter walks away.

"You don't trust me," she says softly, once we're alone again, and it's not a question.

I watch her steadily for a moment, considering lying. But she’s earned honesty at the very least, I think. "I don't trust anyone completely. It's how I've stayed alive this long."

"Not even your father?" There's genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Not even him,” I confirm. “There are always reasons not to trust someone, in this world. My father has power, power he’ll pass on to me someday. When someone has more power than you, you don’t trust them.”

Sophia’s eyebrow rises. “I don’t have more power than you.”

I take a sip of my wine, enjoying the complexity of it for a moment. It’s delicious, rich, and dry. “There are other reasons not to trust someone.”

Her fingers twitch against the stem of her glass, ever so slightly.

I set mine down. “Did you trust your father?”

She blinks at me, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Of course. Always.”

“What happened to him?” The question is blunt, almost cruelly so, I’m well aware. But I want her on the back foot, for a moment. I want her to not have time to think about her answers.

"He died when I was young." Her expression closes off slightly, and I recognize the look of genuine pain on her face. "Car accident."

It’s a lie. I feel certain of it, although I can’t be sure of why. I see her fingers twitch against her wine glass again. Her voice is a little too flat, her answer slightly too quick.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Really, Sophia. I am.”

“I’m sorry you brought it up.” She presses her lips together. “Have I done something wrong, Konstantin? Besides help to save your life twice?”

The way she says it, faintly accusing, makes me feel guilty for doubting her. “No,” I assure her, and it’s the truth. She hasn’t done anything wrong, not yet. It’s just a feeling. One that I’m obliged to follow up on.

She drops her gaze to her plate as the food arrives, and I have the feeling that I’ve hurt her.

It’s a feeling that I don’t like, for reasons that I can’t entirely explain.

She doesn’t say anything else as we dig into our food, and by the time we finish our meal, I’m almost convinced that I’ve made this all up in my head, and that I’ve done nothing but hurt my new wife with my unfounded suspicions.

Almost.

We walk back to our rooms after dinner, the night air drifting in from the open windows, cool and smelling of dust and grass.

As Sophia walks next to me, her sugar and violet scent mingles with it.

I can feel my blood rushing in my veins, my pulse quickening as we get closer to my room, and my cock swells with anticipation.

I could have her tonight, any way that I want her. I don’t think she’d say no, especially after last night. I could have my wife, instead of stroking myself to dreams and fantasies about her. It’s what I want. What she wants.

Why the fuck am I denying myself?

I grit my teeth as we come to a stop in front of her door, passing by mine. Sophia stops, and I swallow hard, trying to think past my rising lust.

“I meant to say—” Sophia pauses, her hand on her keycard. “Thank you for going on the overnight with me, Konstantin. Even if it didn’t turn out all that… well.”

I chuckle, low and deep in the back of my throat. “I should be thanking you,” I say wryly. “You helped save my life. Again. As you pointed out at dinner.”

She shrugs one slender, elegant shoulder. “You would have done the same for me, right?” Her gaze meets mine. “You did say you would keep me safe.”

“I did.” I pause, holding her gaze. “And I would.”

Something shimmers in the air between us, the beginning of that same tension that built to a fever pitch last night.

And as I stand there, looking at my wife’s green eyes glimmering back up at me, I know if I stand here for even a moment longer, I’ll go into her room with her, or take her back to mine.

Her tongue sweeps over her lower lip tantalizingly, leaving a sheen behind, and my cock throbs. “Konstantin?” Her voice is low and rich as the wine we had with dinner, husky with need, and I take a step back, fighting with everything in me to keep my self-control.

With more willpower than even I knew I possessed, I take another step back, and another, until her perfume is no longer flooding my senses. “Goodnight, Sophia,” I say firmly, and I see her face fall slightly as I do.

I turn and walk away before I can change my mind, before I can give in to the desire that’s building, that’s been building since the moment I met her. I hear her door close behind me as I walk toward mine, and I let out an exhale, stopping as I close my eyes.

Desire pulses through me, my cock still hardening with every step, as if she’s still here next to me instead of behind her bedroom door.

I think of going back to my room, of giving myself the release I need, of trying to sleep with images of her burned behind my eyes, and the thought suddenly seems unbearable.

What the fuck am I doing ?

I turn back toward her room, staring at the closed door. Sophia is my wife. My wife, mine … and I want her.

And for once, I’m going to take what I fucking want.