But the truth is, for one split second when I opened my eyes yesterday morning and saw hers staring back at me, I convinced myself I was living in a different reality. One where she was mine, where she would wake in my bed because it was hers too, where my brother was alive, and we were happy.
When actuality slapped me in the face as the world set in around me, I lost my mind.
It hurt too much, it was a gutting moment of realization, and I took all of it out on her.
I sigh deeply, knowing that if she hasn’t locked herself away for the evening already, I’m going to have to swallow my pride and apologize to her. Every moment with her feels like a battle—some enticing, some challenging, all of them stirring up feelings in my otherwise numb existence. Other moments are painful, bringing to the surface all the hurt we’ve ever caused.
I know it’s best to avoid her, but sometimes I can’t bring myself to do so. Sometimes, when we’ve gone days without crossing paths, I even find myself missing her. Hoping that I’ll find her in the kitchen or descending the stairs when I open the front door.
Like, even though I’m constantly reminded of all the agony she’s caused me, my baser instincts long to be near her—the pull I’ve felt my entire life.
As I push open the door, convincing myself I’m ready for whatever I find on the other side, I’m caught completely off guard—utterly unprepared for the sound that meets me.
That unmistakable, sultry, cock-pulsing moan that’s forever branded into my memory, echoes through the quiet house, accented by the familiar buzzing of her vibrator.
All the guilt that’s followed me the last twenty-four hours simmers to molten anger, liquefying into blazing heat that settles in my core. I slam the door behind me, loud enough to grab her attention.
The sounds are clear enough that there is no way her bedroom door isn’t open, and the torment is nothing but personal, because she knows exactly what time I arrive home from work each day.
Confirming my suspicions, the vibrator doesn’t shut off after I make my presence known. It continues, and a soft yet loud, “August” echoes off the walls of the house.
She’s doing this on fucking purpose.
What’s worse, is that I understand why. I know she’s toying with me after those fucked-up comments I made about my desire to fuck her out of my system.
She’s taunting me for revenge, and I deserve it.
That knowledge doesn’t dissolve the exasperation funneling through me as I climb the stairs, each step louder than the one before it, making damn sure she knows I’m coming.
Her proximity has been chipping away at my composure day-by-day since she moved in. I’m fighting a constant battle between rage, lust, and longing. It’s taken every ounce of strength to keep her at arm’s length, but waking to her in my bed and now hearing her moan my name has obliterated my self-control.
Perhaps I’m a weak man, but the moment my name left her lips, I lost the fight at denying us both the touch of each other’s body.
Sure enough, her door is wide open as I turn right at the top of the staircase. Elena’s sprawled out on the center of herbed, legs spread, head thrown back on the pillows, framed by her dark, wild curls. The head of the serpent snaking around her thigh seems to taunt me, the crescent moon beneath the center of her breasts a cruel reminder of a past life, just like the violets on her arm. She holds a wand to her core with both hands, arms bracketing her chest so her bare tits press together, the bars through each of her nipples glinting in the moonlight filtering through the window with each rapid breath.
My heart pounds in my ears, all the blood in my body rushing straight to my cock at the sight of her. In a god-like show of strength, I refrain myself from approaching, simply leaning against the doorway and crossing my arms.
“Yes, Daddy…please.” She sighs, and I’m certain she knows I’m watching.
The title sets my blood boiling, my cock aching with need as I watch her open legs tremble, her perfect fucking body on display—a goddamn offering. Her lashes flutter, full lips parted in a silentOas she chases pleasure with my image in her mind.
“You’re a fucking brat.”
She lets out an all-too-dramatic gasp, head snapping up and eyes fluttering open. They go wide, but it’s all for show. “Oh, Augustus.” She pants. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“I’m so sure,” I growl. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as her knees drop, spreading her wider, revealing her pussy. My restraint snaps, and I launch into her room. “Fucking cock tease, you are.” I stop in front of the bed, and she playfully bites her lip, extending her foot to the center of my chest. I grasp her ankle. “You are torment personified, you know that?”
A feline smile curves her lips as she shakes her leg out of my hold. “And yet you can’t stay away. Came running the second you heard me call your name.”
I fucking hate her. I swear, I fucking hate her.
“Like chasing a bad habit.” I grab her knee, hooking it around my waist as I lean over her mattress. “You say I come running, but here you are…practically begging for it. You think I can’t see the way your cunt started dripping all over the bed the second I walked through that door? Needy for me, Elena? Desperate?”
“Hmm.” She sighs like my words hold no bearing. With her other leg, she pushes against my chest, forcing me upward as she slides her foot down my stomach, toes dipping into my waistband. She drags down my sweatpants, voice like silk as she murmurs, “Looks like you’re desperate too.”
I don’t stop her, and she unhooks her leg around my waist, sitting up to help tug my bottoms to my knees, my cock tenting my boxers. She licks her lips, eyes fixated on it, like she’s remembering what it tasted like in her mouth.
Her eyes navigate across the rest of my body, pausing on my tattooed thigh before snapping to my face. “Does it cause you pain? Seeing my name every time you look at your skin?”
