I could vividly picture grazing a thumb along that sharp cheekbone as she sucked the life out of me, on her knees, tearsstreaming down her face, eyes red from gagging. My cock hasn’t softened since and I think this is becoming a new form of torture.
But because of my incessant need to keep those images alive, I’m currently peeping at Elodie and Alfie together in the gym. It bodes well for The Hunt – she’s useless. There’s nothing of her so that’s no surprise, but it’s still amusing to witness. Anything Alfie tries to get her to lift barely leaves the mat.
I need to get her some clothes. She’s pranced around in mine all week, staining the fabrics with her feminine smell, and it’s suffocating me enough to seriously debate swallowing my pride on this one. She’s currently wearing an old black tracksuit. I don’t know why Alfie keeps giving her my clothes, might as well dress her in his, since they act like a fucking couple.
She gives him these small, sweet smiles all the time, like now when he hands her a bottle of water and dabs at her damp forehead with a towel. She’s looking up at him with those big shiny eyes, like he’s the best thing in the world. I don’t know how he does it. Where he conjures this insurmountable patience from.
When he turns his back to go over to the bench, I catch Elodie staring at his back. The wide expanse of it. My cousin was blessed with the bulk genes like my father has – most Blackwoods, actually – he’s fucking huge, probably has the strength of me and Fiz combined, although I don’t envy it. My lanky, agile frame grants me advantages Alfie could never have. That’s why he never beats me in The Hunt. His way over two-hundred-pound build weighs him down, slows him too much. I’m light and nimble. No one’s ever gotten away from me. And Elodie Valor won’t either. I’ll catch her, claim her and finally leash her.
She gawks at him, studying his outline, idly biting down on her bottle lid. She should be looking at me like that. I’ve givenher a home, food, protection. I gave her Alfie, for fuck’s sake. I could be doing the chaperoning if I wanted, if I really wanted to punish her, has she ever thought about that? This is me beingnice.
I reach down and adjust my hard dick in my jeans as Fiz comes to stand beside me. We had words about his little love bite he left on my fiancé. To be honest, I can’t be mad. The weeks leading up to collecting Elodie, I said they could have at her, then I just took that away. Some primal instinct snapped into place when she was presented to me in that wheelchair. I still can’t get the image out of my head. But we’ve always shared. It still doesn’t feel right that they’re touching my girl, but… let’s face it, if I’m not ruining her, then someone should. Maybe she’d be less fucking rude.
“You’ve been eye-fucking this bitch for thirty minutes,” he says, peeping next to me through the window.
“It’s not been that long.”
“Bro, I walked past you earlier, fed the dogs, took them outside, packed the car, and made a sandwich. You’re in the exact same position.”
I sigh and tear my eyes away from her, walking down the hall. “I don’t get it. How does Alf do it? It’sAlfiefor fuck’s sake.”
Fiz follows at my side. “It may beAlfie,but it’ssoberAlfie. You know he’s a good boy when he’s not intoxicated.”
I shake my head. “The problems started before he found drugs and alcohol. Impulse control, mood swings. There’s none of that happening.”
“Maybe it’s the Valor effect.”
“The only effect she transmits is dizziness and nausea.” I huff. “How are me and you practically foaming at the mouth trying to control our urges just by walking past her and that lump of muscle is with her all day every day and hasn’t smashed right through her?”
Fiz shrugs. “Maybe he’s rubbing one out every night.”
I scoff. “You know he wouldn’t. I strive for that amount of self-control.”
“I don’t. Walking this tightrope of desperate famine keeps my brain sharp, I like not knowing when I’m gonna explode.”
“That’s because you’re a masochist.”
I flick through a folder on the coffee table in the lounge, looking at my next job. I’ve got pickup in an hour, at least that will give me something to do for the rest of the day to take my mind off that insufferable little blonde flouncing around my house.
“Far from. The unknown just makes my dick hard. Listen.” He turns to me. “Drago has been trying to get hold of you. He wants to talk.”
I pat my pockets, realising my phone’s not on me. “Shit. Is he online now?”
“Yeah.”
I shove his shoulder, darting to the office. “Why the fuck you standing around talking about pussy for, you dumbass!”
He sprints to keep up with me. “You’ve seen the pussy we’re dealing with. Shit’s distracting, bro.”
I stagger into the office and tap the computer screen. The video call’s up, the screen black as usual.
I sit in the chair, Fiz ducking to the side to keep out of view.
“Drago,” I say, scooting to place my elbows on the desk.
“Caden,” his modulated robotic voice comes through the speaker. “I wanted to see how your little arrangement is getting on.”
I know Dad told him about his arranged marriage idea, since Drago holds the strings of both our families, but him knowing the ins and outs of my life still makes my skin crawl.
