Page 41

Veronica

“T ell me,” Veronica shivers as Kael’s finger trails phantom lines on her spine, connecting the jagged, crooked lines on her back. “What else do I need to know about your little boyfriend other than what I have gathered so far?”

“Nothing.” The response is too quick, betraying the whole idea of getting him to believe it.”

He knows too much. And if he knows this much, he must have gone digging around about him. And you don’t go digging for information about someone unless you are interested, one way or another, in the person. And that is the problem. Kael is not supposed to have any interest in Ian.

Fear weaves into her spine at the thought of it. He can’t hurt Ian. He can absolutely not touch a hair on his head.

“Nothing?” His weight presses into her from behind, and then a shiver rolls through her as his finger glides along her cheek, combing hair away from her face. “Did you say nothing?”

“Nothing.”

She yelps when he suddenly fists her hair, yanking her head backward so his lips are just inches away from her left ear, her green eyes staring at his soulless one.

“What did I say about lying to me some minutes ago?” His hold on her hair tightens, his free hand wrapping possessively around her throat.

“H-he liked me,” she whimpers, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. “I liked him too. So um, we started dating.”

“Is that all?” His hip presses against her, and for a split second, she forgets the burn in her ass, the hand locked around her throat, as her mind races to the thick, hard length prodding her from behind. If he moves just a little, if she raises her hips just a fraction more, his cock will be flushed against her throbbing core.

Focus, Veronica. Stop being a cheap whore for once and fucking focus.

“We broke up a couple of months ago,” she exhales, but her body betrays her as she arches slightly against him.

“So, in the two months with him, he has never shoved his dick inside you, huh?” He slides a finger between her lips, his breath feathering against her jaw. “He has never fucked this pussy, right?”

There is no point in lying. He is not stupid.

“He did.” The confession barely leaves her lips before his eyes darken with something lethal.

“How many times?” he demands, voice razor-sharp, nose slightly flaring. He has her face locked in his hand, forcing her to stare deep into his eyes, to see the storm brought about by her confession.

“I can’t r-remember.” She really has no idea why he wants them to go down this road. Why irritate himself with numbers when the simple fact that they got intimate angers him this much? Is he purposely trying to make himself enraged?

“I need a fucking number, damn it!” he growls, his grip on her jaw bruising. “So, put your pretty head to use and start thinking!”

She can feel it, his nails starting to crack open a skin on her face. And she can feel it, the burn, the pain. Her mind spirals, thinking back to her moments with Ian. She recalls that they always had sex at his house. It only happened once in his classroom after school. In the two months they became official, she visited his house eleven times. And they always had sex. So eleven at his house and one at school.

Twelve. They had sex twelve times.

“Answer me!”

“Twelve,” she splutters. “Twelve times.”

There is a moment of stillness, just the sound of her unsteady breaths tangling with his heavy pants and the gentle tick of the clock in the background.

Then she feels the emptiness of his absence, the coldness that comes when his warm body is no longer pressed against hers.

When she glances behind her, he has leaned back to his height, walking away.

“Stand,” he says, his voice leaving no room for protest. Not that she has any intention of protesting.

Her spine nearly cramps up when she rises to her height. And even if it does, she won’t wonder why. She has been bent over that desk for at least fifteen minutes.

“Veronica.” Her name sounds rough on his tongue, yet exotic, laced with something sinful, and it makes her think of sex.

“Yes?”

Her eyes follow his movements. He walks to the dresser, pulls open a drawer, and searches around until he finds a hairband. Then he turns to face her, his hand lifted as he slowly gathers his white locks in his hands.

“I am a very possessive man.” He begins slowly as he rolls the hair into a messy bun. “When something is mine, I usually prefer it if no one else looks at it, touches it, or even thinks of possessing it.”

A lump forms in her throat and she swallows. She watches with anticipation as he begins to work on his buttons, his dark eyes pinning her down, daring her to blink or look away.

“And that time in Russia when I marked you as mine.” He peels off his shirt, revealing taut muscles beneath pale skin. “Maybe I did a terrible job at telling you what that means. And I guess that’s on me. But that is about to change. How? You might ask. Well, I can’t go around wiping every man that has ever fucked you off the face of the earth. That’s too much work no matter how exciting it sounds. So here is what we are going to do.” He takes off his pants, leaving him in his boxers, which are also gone in a second. And Veronica would be damned to hell if she tears her gaze away from his cock which is as hard as she imagined it to be.

“Get on,” he commands, nodding at the large bed.

Slowly, Veronica lifts one foot after the other, her pulse racing in her ears until she is on the bed, on her knees.

And no matter how hard she tries to keep her gaze on his wickedly handsome face, it keeps moving to his cock. And the thought of the way he always fucks her so rough and so hard, and the memories of her squeezing around his length and begging for more, causes a rush of fire to her already dripping core.

“I would rather you be on all fours, ladybird,” he says as he crosses the room to her.

Without protesting, she sits back up, turns around on her knees until her hands are planted on the soft bed, back arched, ass in the air.

The bed dips in response to his weight as he climbs onto it, a zap of electricity that ends yet again between her legs, weaving through her as he touches her hip only with a brush of his fingers. Her entire body has become attuned to him that every little touch—even if it’s a slap across the face—makes her want to moan.

She glances sideways, watching him, her lips parted when he runs his palm over her ass, the burn from earlier now a phantom heat beneath his touch.

“As expected,” he hums and she whimpers, lashes fluttering, lip caught between her teeth when the pad of his thumb brushes against her throbbing clit.

“Already soaking wet…” Then his dark eyes cut to her.

“All for me.”

“Oh god.” The thump of his thumb against her swollen clit sends a rush of pleasure spiraling deep into her stomach.

“Tell me.” His voice is velvety, eyes gleaming beneath the frost of his lashes. “You were thinking about my cock while my belt was pelting down your ass earlier, weren’t you? Is that why you are dripping when I haven’t even touched you?”

His thumb circles her entrance, teasing.

“Kael—please,” she whimpers, desperation leaking into her voice as she tilts her head back.

“That’s not the answer I was hoping to hear,” he chuckles low, leaning over her, his hand disappearing from her pussy only to cup her sensitive breast.

“Oh, god,” she whimpers as his warm palm kneads her, his finger toying with her nipple.

Her breath stutters when he finally drags the dripping tip of his cock against her entrance.

“How badly do you want this?” His tone is raspy, thick with lust as he strokes her with his length.

“Please.”

“I need to hear you say it.” He presses the throbbing head of his cock just half an inch into her hole, pulling out and drawing a whimper of protest from her.

Her hand reaches behind her, desperate to guide him inside her.

But a yelp tears from her lips when he slaps the hand away. “Good girls wait until they are given.”

“Oh god, please.” She grinds her hips, seeking, needy.

“How bad?”

“S-so bad.” She trembles, the corners of her eyes burning with the unbearable ache.

Her mouth opens but the impending moan gets tangled in her throat as he slides into her opening, pushing through her tight walls, hitting a spot that always drives her insane.

She cries out, back arching, fingers clawing at the sheet as he pulls out tortuously slowly, only to slam back in, the bed groaning beneath them.

“See how your pussy always welcomes me?” His pace quickens, each thrust a claim, a brutal devotion. “That’s because it’s meant for me.” He grabs her hip, perfecting the angle before he drives impossibly deeper.

Her vision blurs, pleasure mounting into something dangerous, something consuming. He pounds into her with a hunger that borders on obsession, that makes her body sing with the violence of it.

“This perfect pussy is mine,” he whispers gruffly, a promise laced with possession. “At the early hours of the morning, in the busy days of the afternoon, deep into the many deads of every fucking night. It’s always going to be mine. Only my cock gets to fuck and own every inch of your needy cunt.”

“Oh, god, Kael please,” she sobs, body unraveling, the pleasure cresting into something unbearable with every intentional thrust.

But she doesn’t want him to stop. She loves how he is so big and how perfectly he always fits inside her. She loves how he pushes through her walls, hitting places no man has ever hit before. She loves how roughly he plunges in and out of her, how she drips her juices all over him even without him trying too hard. And she loves it even more when he pauses inside her and she can feel it all, the fervent throbbing of his cock. And she loves it too, when he empties himself inside her, raw, unrelenting.

She can complain that he never gets tired of her, that he likes to fuck her for hours, and yet remain insatiable. But she likes it. She likes that he is so obsessed with her, with her body, the way she always clenches around him like she was made for him.

“... so you better listen ‘cause I won’t say this again.” His dark voice and a hard thrust pull her from her daze, and she realizes he has been talking.

“If you ever think, and I mean think of letting another man stick his fucking dick inside this pussy, be ready to see his chopped-up body delivered to you in a box.” He leans over and grabs her hair, yanking her head backward. “If any man looks at you with lust, breathe wrong in your direction, he will not see another day.” His cock pulses inside her, and she clenches around him, panting as he presses a deceptively soft kiss on her neck.

“And that boyfriend of yours,” he murmurs, and her heart skips, her head shaking to drive away whatever thought he is having before it takes root. “If I ever.” He drags his words, his nails digging into her hip while his cock remains buried inside her to the hilt. “If I ever smell his scent on you, even if it’s because of his old shirt you found in your laundry, I’ll break all his bones, bleed him dry and fuck you raw and hard while covered in his blood.”

Slowly, he pulls out and slams back into her again, wrenching a cry from her throat.

“I swear to god, Veronica.” His voice is a warning, a dark promise. “I’m not bluffing. I’ll kill him.”

Maybe she should be afraid. Maybe she should cry, bolt. But something about the way he says it, the sheer depravity of his promise, makes her envision it—the sight of him, drenched in another man’s blood, mounting her, fucking her raw and hard, whispering filth against her ear.

That thought unravels her and sends her plummeting over the edge. With a shattered gasp, she comes hard, her juices gushing, drenching his twitching cock.

There truly is something rotten inside her.

The sound of water settles around Veronica, cascading from the showerhead in a steady, relentless rhythm. It drums against the tiled floor, ricocheting off the glass walls in a symphony of white noises.

Yet, even through the rush of water, she hears it—two heartbeats. One steady, controlled. The other pulsing with untamed energy. And then, there are his fingers. Skilled, relentless, teasing the most sensitive part of her.

“I am going back to Russia in a week,” Kael murmurs, his voice merging with the static noise of water.

She gasps as two fingers slide inside her, slick and unyielding.

They have been at this for hours. The sex. She should have known. His mission was clear from the moment he asked her how many times Ian slept with her. So twelve orgasms were his plan, each one designed to erase every memory of Ian from her body, from her mind. And he had succeeded. Because when she closed her eyes at the eleventh round, her mind racing back to two months ago on Ian’s couch, the pizza box slightly tilted, about to fall off the coffee table, sweaty bodies slamming against each other, moans filling the room, Kael’s face was all she could see.

“Okay,” she forces out, the water slipping into her mouth, mixing with the taste of him still lingering on her tongue.

“I’m taking you with me.”

Her eyes snap open, the pleasure draining quickly from her body as the water rushes down the drain. She jolts away, her pussy mourning the loss of contact.

“What?” she demands, blinking against the spray, her pulse skittering.

“You seem upset,” he says, running a hand through his wet hair. “Why?”

For a moment, she forgets to argue. White hair, skin like an untouched snow, golden eyes burning with embers of wicked intent, long lashes dusted with droplets of water like fragile frost. He shouldn’t be this beautiful. It would have been easier to hate him.

“Dude, I have school I need to attend. My life is literally here, and oh, I’m not your possession, and you don’t get to drag around!” She makes wild gestures with her hand, fumes almost emitting from her ears.

A gentle smirk lifts the corner of his perfect lips as though he finds her reaction funny. “How many times will we have this conversation until you accept that you belong to me now?”

“For Christ’s sake, Kael, I’m not yours!” she yells.

His expression darkens, jaw working. “Are you Raidon’s then?”

“I don’t belong to either of you. Especially you.”

Kael tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Would you say the same thing you are saying now if I were inside you right now?” His voice is low, taunting. “Because from where I stand, you only tell me what I want to hear when my cock is buried inside you.”

A shiver runs through her. The mere suggestion of it ignites something deep, something she refuses to name. Her thighs press together instinctively, seeking friction, but it does nothing to quell the ache.

“I can’t follow you to Russia,” her tone is reasonably low and clinical, like talking to a wounded animal. “I’m already a year behind. This is my final chance to graduate. And I must graduate. I can’t be stuck in high school till I’m twenty.”

“There are hundreds of schools in Russia,” he says. “Say the word and you’ll get a direct transfer.”

“Can you stop listening to your own voice for once and hear mine?” Her tone is sharp and cutting, and his eyes flash with rage. “Please,” she quickly adds in a softer voice.

He inhales sharply, blinking against the water on his face. “You are too far away,” he murmurs, voice lazy. “I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

Veronica rolls her eyes, stepping closer. He doesn’t give her a chance to retreat as his hands seize her waist immediately, pressing her against the cool glass wall. One arm braces above her head, the other snaking down, slipping between her thighs.

“Convince me,” he whispers against her damp skin, his lips hovering over her hard nipple, teasing. “Tell me why I should leave you behind when you’re still going on dates with your former lover?”

His fingers finally slide inside her slick wall, his thrusts slow, deliberate, yet it still makes her breath catch. Then his mouth latches onto her breast, nipping, biting, sucking.

“Start talking, Veronica,” he commands, curling his fingers inside her.

“Please,” she moans instead, the plea slipping from her lips before she even knows what she’s begging for. Is it for him to stop? For his cock to be inside her right now instead of his fingers? Or for him to let her stay, for him to never leave?

“How do I trust that you won’t spread this fucking thighs for other men while I’m gone, hmm?” His thumb circles her clit, a low growl settling in his throat as if he can barely stomach the thought. “On a lonely night when you are craving my cock, will you let another man shove their dick inside this pussy?”

Her eyes snap open, meeting his dark, burning gaze. “I’m not some cheap whore, you know?” she bites out, his accusation settling a bitter taste on her tongue.

He smirks, leaning in until his lips brush hers. “But you’re my whore.” His fingers pull from her pussy, only to push into her mouth.

“My pretty little slut…” He watches, eyes a mirror of mischief as she sucks greedily on his fingers, tasting herself, craving more. “Who is addicted to my tongue, my fingers, my fucking cock.”

“Yes, Veronica Beaumont, you’re Kael Volkov’s little whore,” he growls, his arms tightening around her waist, lifting her up. Instinct takes over, her legs wrapping around him. And the moment she feels the thick, hard press of his cock at her dripping core, she braces.

“And as my little slut…” he groans, thrusting inside her. “This pussy will always be ready for me, only me.”

“Oh, god yes,” she cries, her head slamming against the glass as he pounds into her tight cunt, pleasure detonating through her, ripping her apart and putting her back together all at once.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me, ladybird,” he commands, slamming into her with ruthless precision. “Watch what your perfect pussy fucking does to me. Watch how utterly undone I am pulsing inside your perfect cunt. Can you see it?” He pulls out only to thrust harder, catching a gasp in her throat. “Can you see your fire consuming me?”

“Oh my god, yes, yes yes,” she moans, nails digging into his back, legs trembling.

“Not God, ladybird, say my fucking name,” he utters in a low growl, voice raw as he pounds into her, each thrust harder and rougher than the last.

“Kael,” she whimpers.

“Louder, ladybird. Let the sound shatter this glass if it has to. Fucking say my name.” His pace quickens, his muscles tensing. “I want my name on your pretty lips while I fill this pussy up with my come.”

“Kael,” she gasps, shattering around him, her hot releases gushing out, dripping all over his cock, splattering on the wet tiles.

His hips jerk, muscles tightening as he follows, spilling deep inside her. He groans, his body shaking as his head drops to her shoulder, breath hot against her skin.

“Five days,” he murmurs, lifting his face from her neck. “You have five days to convince me to leave you behind.”

His fingers tip her chin up, claiming her lips in a kiss that tastes like poison and possession.

“Five days, ladybird.”