“Say it.”
She hesitated, her breath hitched in her throat. “I won’t deny you what’s yours.”
My lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk, knowing she was already starting to break little by little. “Good girl,” I whispered, withdrawing from her.
I walked back to the sofa and picked up my jacket as she watched me in silence. When I turned around and met her gaze, I saw the confusion in her eyes, unsure of what I was up to.
“Anticipation,” I said, “is its own kind of possession.” I paused, letting the words sink in for a minute. “Goodnight,milaya.”
Her brows furrowed, accentuating the bewilderment etched on her face as I walked out of the room. I left her untouched and restless, knowing she’d lie awake, questioning herself. For me, this was the first victory of many—obsession sharpened into a game that onlyIknew how to win.
Chapter 15 – Scarlett
I sat on a stool by the window, my head resting on the glass as I gazed outside, watching flashes of lightning streak through the dark clouds. My legs were pulled up in front of me, with my arms wrapped around them.
I was lost in an oversized cotton sweater, its sleeves swallowing up my hands. In my head, I was also lost—lost in my own thoughts, a million of them tugging at my mind.
It had been a few days since the so-called wedding already, and this man still hadn’t laid a finger on me. I thought on the night of our wedding, he was going to claim me as his, with or without my consent.
I was prepared to surrender myself to him, to let him have his way and be done with it. It was clear that he’d always wanted me because I’d caught glimpses of desire and lust in his eyes on multiple occasions.
Yet, when it was time to act, he did nothing. Absolutely nothing.
At first, he taunted me, teased me, and made me think that he was about to destroy me that night. My body trembled at his words, my heart raced like a runaway train, and my muscles contracted.
When he stood before me with those cold eyes boring into mine, I felt an unfamiliar rush of excitement, the kind that made my pussy tingle. His touch stirred up a feeling within me that I was too embarrassed to name or even admit.
That night, the plan was to let him take me until he was satisfied—not because I wanted it or because I planned to enjoy it. But because it was an incident I wanted to be over and done with.
In contrast, the longer his hands lingered on my skin, the more that embarrassing feeling swelled within me. I felt myheart slowly melting at his touch, my high walls crumbling with each passing second.
Before I could understand what was happening, I was already wet between my legs. Even now, I still can’t explain how he managed to turn me on without even trying very hard.
The worst part wasn’t that he awakened something primal inside me; it was that he left me hanging after doing so.
He slowly built my anticipation. This man tricked my body into craving more of his touch. And then when I was starting to ease into it, he decided to walk away.
I recalled feeling some sort of despair—torn between relief and discontent. A part of me was glad that he didn’t take me as I had previously thought. And as embarrassing as it was, there was another part of me that was disappointed that he walked away.
A few days had passed, and I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around what exactly happened that night. I’d been asking myself why he didn’t make any move on me that night, why he teased me only to leave me hanging afterward.
Was it all part of his plan to taunt me? Was it some sort of punishment?
Ever since he pulled that stunt on me, he hadn’t made another attempt to even tease me again. He barely looked in my direction, not even a glance that lingered. It was almost like I no longer existed to him.
I should be glad about this, right? It was a good thing, right? At least I wouldn’t have to worry about his taunts or cruelty. Right?
Then why did I feel like a friggin’ ghost to him? Why was I bothered by the way he constantly ignored me? I hated him, and this newly developed attitude of his shouldn’t be a problem.
I mean, this was a man who kidnapped me, locked me up in a room for days, then later threw me into a dark cell with no explanations.
I almost lost my life because of that, and then, without an apology, he forced me to marry him. He was a ruthless monster, and I should be glad that he wasn’t toiling with me anymore.
Yet, I still couldn’t help wondering why the sudden change. I hated myself for questioning whether his disinterest in me was because he didn’t find me attractive enough. I was so embarrassed for even entertaining that thought, especially because I hated him.
So what if he abandoned me!
Shouldn’t that be a good thing?
