After a week of these nightly visits to his room, I’m almost numbed to them altogether.
Caelian grunts as his final thrusts turn erratic and he buries himself deep in my pussy. He’s slicked with sweat, breathing heavier than usual, stepping off the bed. He slides on his pajama pants, then strides out the room without a word or even glance at me.
I suspect he’s off to see his physician. He had mentioned his heart problems weren’t improving, but I don’t know any details.
We’re not on speaking terms, so I’m not offered that kind of information anymore.
My heart sinks inside my chest. I give a sigh as I lie against the pillows and let his cum soak inside me.
“He’ll come around,” Ms. Poitier says. She’s come into the room and noticed how dejected I am. “He’s a stubborn man, Nevaeh. He was very hurt by what happened… and unfortunately… that means it’s going to take time.”
“How much time?” I croak, blinking back tears. “I was tricked, Ms. Poitier. I didn’t want to leave. I was… I was just trying to protect him.”
“I know, honey. But Mr. C doesn’t trust easily, or at all, really. You were the first woman he ever opened himself up to.”
She pats me on the back and proceeds to ease me into the routine for the rest of the night.
I’ve begun taking special vitamins. I’ve been instructed to drink an herbal chaste berry tea and the rest of my diet has been restructured with foods that optimize fertility.
As Ms. Poitier helps me bathe in the clawfoot tub, I can’t hide my discomfort. It’s been another few nights of the cold treatment, and I’m starting to wonder how much more I can take.
Ms. Poitier drags a soapy loofah along my back. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re worrying it’ll never happen.”
“You said it yourself; he takes loyalty very seriously. He doesn’t open his heart to many people. What if he never forgives me, Ms. P? I can’t…” trail off, my throat aching. “I can’t be subjected to the cold shoulder forever. It hurts so much. He barely even looks at me.”
“He loves you,” she insists. She tilts my chin up, then wipes at my misty eyes. “I know Mr. C better than anybody, honey. And that man does love you. He still insists you’re well takencare of. He always asks about how you’re doing. It’s just going to take him a while. I’ll try to talk to him, okay? Maybe… maybe convince him to spend some more time with you. Outside of the, errr, baby making.”
I go to bed that night with Caelian on my mind. I spend the hours between midnight and sunrise tossing and turning, dreaming about him.
He’s in the audience of one of my shows. I’m on stage performing for only him as I spin faster and faster, a breathless smile on my face. But no matter how fast I spin, he remains unwavering, still and stoic like a statue.
So I make my turns even sharper. I push myself harder. I go round and round ’til I’m dizzy, constantly throwing glances at the empty audience.
Caelian gets up and walks out. I’m still coming out of my pirouette when I notice he’s fading in the distance. My ankle bends, balance is thrown off. I slam into the floor, screaming out his name, pleading for him to return.
I jolt in bed, gripping the blankets like I really am falling. Then I slowly realize I’m awake and it was all some horrible dream.
I’m unable to fall back asleep. For hours I lay in bed and stare out the dark window, until eventually morning light colors the sky.
The bedroom door flies open so suddenly. Ms. Poitier rushes inside, darting straight for the armoire.
I spring up in bed, alarmed. “Ms. P, what are you doing? Am I going somewhere?”
“Yes, honey. Mr. C is taking you out!”
The excitement’s instant.
I pounce forward on the bed, going from one end to the other. “Me and Cael? He’s taking me somewhere? Outside of the estate? Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of you.”
“But where?”
“He didn’t tell me. But he’s set aside his whole day for this. Just the two of you. He asked me to get you ready.”
Curiosity flutters inside me. My head slants to the side. “Do you think this means he’s forgiven me?”
“Oh, honey. It’s possible.” She shoots me a kind smile like a mother would. “Let’s get you dressed, shall we?”
