by Celia Crown
My thumbs draw lazy circles on her waist, slowly fucking her tiny cunt as she wiggles to make me balls-deep with a breathy sigh.
“You’re leaving again,” I repeat the earlier statement. I keep my tone neutral, I don’t want this to trigger that past event, and I want to be able to make her stay.
“I’m not,” she moans, rocking her hips back and meeting my slow thrusts.
“The file,” I say, admitting to a crime that I shouldn’t have been doing. I snapped like a damn gossiping man, but the manila-colored files had compelled me to do it. “I saw it. You’re leaving for Spain.”
I withdraw slowly from the tightness of her cunt, watching strings of cum drenching my cock while the tip stays firmly inside. The stretch is obscenely filthy, borderline immoral at how her small hole is able to wrap around my thickness all while pulsing for more.
My hands are tugging harshly at her waist, snapping her hips back and fucking her small cunt with vigor. The squelching and creaks of the bed is a mess in the room, but it doesn’t drown out the sobs of mercy through a series of powerful thrusts.
“It’s—that’s not—!” she mewls, a mess of crying moans and shuddering whimpers.
She cums, a sudden invasion of her freedom to have any control of her body as her muscles harshly tug at me to keep my cock nestled with too tight of snugness that rips away my ability to breathe.
I’m drowning, drowning in thoughts of Victoria.
I’m close, pounding into her with reckless pummeling and biting the inside of my cheek to just hold on for one more minute. I don’t want it to end. I never want her pussy to let go of my cock.
“Silas, Silas—”
As if she knows where to put down a man like me, my mind draws a blank and I ground my hips to her ass. The softness of her plump ass feels fantastic, but the coy haste of her tight cunt ends the instantiable desire to possess her.
I own her. She’s mine, and nothing in this world can change that fact.
Spurts of thick cum paint her walls with my ownership, claiming her and sinking my claws in her need for freedom. She doesn’t need any of that; she has me to bring her everything.
Flipping her over, she grunts at my rough ministration. I fist my drenched cock, stroking the rest of my cum on her soft stomach and splattering messily on her puffy, red pussy.
I almost fall on top of her as I let go of my sensitive cock, but I’m not done yet. Rubbing my cum on her stomach, brushing across her bellybutton and moving down to slowly bring my thumb on her hard clit.
Her hips jerk away from my touch, and I chase after her, and she moans when she squirms.
A beautiful thing she is. I can’t get enough of watching her pink cheeks become redder as a smaller orgasm washes over her; the sigh of relief paints her state of defeat.
“Don’t leave,” I plea, voice coming out tortured and hurried. “Don’t leave me again.”
She throws her arms around my back, pulling me down to her as my weight knocks the air out of her lungs. She chuckles, shaking her head and kissing the side of my face. I want to look at her face as I lift myself up just a bit, but I also want to be as close to her as possible.
She’s warm, a tingly feeling curls in my stomach and she makes me feel exposed. I’m trying to get used to it because I have been closed-off for so long that I have no sense of security being this open about my emotions.
“I’m not leaving, Silas, and I’m proud of you for bringing this matter to me.” She runs her hand down my spine.
I have learned my lesson, and I would be a fool to make the same mistake again, it’s going to cost me more than another seven years. It might be everlasting if I fuck up one little thing.
“I’m not upset at you reading the files,” she says, blinking away the blurriness in her eyes.
“Fyodor has me looking at those files for a business deal. Every deal comes with numbers, and Fyodor is terrible at math, so he assigned it to me.”
I didn’t know that. I never bothered knowing how the boss runs the company and what’s behind the financial scenes when I need to focus on my job of either protecting or tossing someone down a flight of stairs.
“I’m not sure if your boss had told you this, but he wants his nephew—Fyodor to take over the business.”
Blinking with a spec of bewilderment. There have been rumors of the boss wanting to retire, but no one expected him to pass it on to a nephew that no one has heard of. We didn’t think he even had any family left, but not everyone had put in distant relatives in the mix since he’s more of a recluse.
“We have been trying to get the paper works in order, and there is a lot of numbers moving around.”
“Spain,” I murmur, not that much interested in who’s taking over the company. “You’re still leaving for Spain.”
“For a week, you dummy,” she scowls, pink lips puckering with a squint of her eyes. “The documents need to be signed in front of someone Fyodor trusts, so he asked me to handle it. It’s also because I don’t trust him with numbers when the other party shows him their form of documentation. This is a precautionary move, nothing more.”
Victoria chuckles. “You’re overthinking, Silas. I’m not going anywhere.”
I’m going with her to Spain whether she likes it or not, and neither Sebastian or Fyodor will have a say in that matter. I’ll use my own vacation time to fill in the week where she’s in a foreign country, and like hell, I’ll let that happen.
A single woman going to a foreign place is just asking for trouble. At times, there seem to be more bad people than those who put faith back into humanity, and then there are those in the middle who just mind their own damn business with no intention of helping.
I have another issue that needs to be addressed. The matter of abandonment issue is deeply rooted in me, but with time, I can get rid of it since I have Victoria now.
“Let’s get out of this room and have some breakfast,” she suggests with a grin.
“I’m going with you to Spain,” I insist, and I’m not looking for a fight.
She isn’t either. “Okay, Spain in the winter isn’t that cold and manageable in certain areas.”
Victoria gasps, turning to her nightstand and taking her phone. The device divides us, and I can’t see her face as she squeals in shock.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love!” She throws her arms around me, peppering my face with kisses as I just caught up with what’s happening.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything,” she murmurs, pouting and upset.
“I only want one thing.”
Her eyes immediately gleam, brightening with enthusiasm on her face as she bobs her head. “Anything. Tell me, tell me. I’ll get you anything. Not the moon, though, we need to be realistic and within my ability to do so. I’m not superhuman—”
The corner of my lips twitch at her rambling. “I want you to be married to me.”
“What?”
“That’s what I want for every Valentine’s Day gift. I want you to be my wife.”
She laughs, warm and gentle—it hits close to home as she threads her fingers into my hair. “Since when did you become this smooth? Did you learn from Sebastian? He’s rubbing off on you.”
“No, it’s what I want.” I’m adamant, and she’s calmer now. “Over the years, I realize that I can’t live without you and I don’t want to spend a minute of my life knowing that someone can take you away from me.”
Her observant eyes follow the contour of my face before landing on my eyes, a flicker of light from outside flashes for a brief second.
“I love you, Silas, for a long time. Yes, I want to marry you too.”
I nod slowly, my stomach grows tight as I wait for a laugh to tell me that this is a joke and she doesn’t want to marry me.
“I want my yearly gift to be you as my husband.”
I claim her lips, just kissing as long as possible. My heart wants to explode in happiness as she giggles, arms around my neck and humming my name.
“I’ll get you a ring.” It’s a promise on my tongue, and she gleefully smiles.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Her phone is a nightmare as it always interrupts us in the middle of something important. I want to take it and chuck it down the toilet, and when I see Fyodor’s name, the need becomes tenacious as she soothes the irritation with her hand on my face.
“We’re busy,” she says as she answers his call. “What? No, I don’t want to see you balance a book on your face.”
This dumb conversation is taking up my time with her. Either she hangs up on that man, or I’m going to do it for her. I lean down, stuffing my face between her neck, licking and nipping on her sensitive skin where it had been marked in several spots.
“Double date? With who? You and your misery?” Victoria throttles down a giggle, lightly smacking my shoulder as I nip at her jaw.
“Free vitamin water? Why did you say so? We’ll be there. And don’t touch the peach fizz flavored one or we’ll have something to discuss.”
She rolls her eyes, running her hand into my hair and my face melts into her neck. She tugs on the strands while mindlessly stroking my hair.
“I can always have Sebastian lock you in a broom closet—alone. He listens to me, or I can have Silas do it. He’ll be glad to nail the door shut too, for free and without guilt.”
That’s not a bad idea. With him in a broom closet and Sebastian trying to get him out, I can whisk away my Victoria with no efforts.
“Fine, fine, you big baby. We’ll go too.”
She hangs up, pushing against my shoulders. “Apparently, we’re having breakfast with them too. What a third and fourth wheel to our date.”
“I can nail them in the broom closet together; they’ll be busy for a while.”
Victoria laughs at my suggestion, but I’m more serious than joking. She doesn’t see it and shakes her head at me. Another kiss on my lips and she rolls out from under me. My hand inches towards her ankle as her round ass pops up in my vision; thick white cum drips creamily from between her red, swollen hole that I have fucked all night last night and made her stretched apart this morning too.
“Stop looking, you pervert!” She blushes, throwing a pillow at me while making a run to the bathroom with her clothes bundled in her arms.
While she gets ready in the bathroom, I find new clothes and put them on. The door clicks open, and her head pops out with a grin. She takes a bundle of her hair and wraps them around her neck, looking at the mirror with a pout.
She says, “It doesn’t cover anything up.”
“I don’t want you to,” I counter back, dropping the toothbrush in the cup.
“It’s so obvious,” she huffs, letting her hair down and falling on her small shoulders. The movement draws my eyes to her tits, they bounce in her blue blouse, and one thing leads to another, her ass is covered with a tight pencil skirt complete with stockings.
Simple and casual, but a beautiful charm on her presence.
“Put it up.”
She spins to me and gasps, shocked as if I had the audacity to say that. “That’s even worse! I can’t go out like this! People won’t take me seriously.”
“Shame,” I deadpan, eyebrow cocked with a lack of interest.
Twitching her nose, she slaps my arm with a light touch. “I can conceal it with makeup.”
“No.”
She whines. “What do you want me to do?”
“Keep it down and leave it.” I flip her hair over her shoulder, eyeing the bruise just above her collar.
“Fine,” she begrudgingly agrees. “I don’t have anything planned today, so you get your wish, mister.”
She skips out of the bathroom, finding her black heels and taking a look at the mirror to fix her hair. With a bag on her shoulder, she’s ready with me at her side, and my hand is laced between hers.
She giggles, squeezing my hand, marveling at the difference between us while we get to the elevator. With good timing, the door opens, and there goes a quiet ride down to the lobby.
“Hey!” Sebastian greets. He’s glowing; that goddamn glow is actually violent enough for me to narrow my eyes in suspicion.
“You didn’t,” Victoria gasps, allegation and staggering trauma in her voice.
“Sebastian’s chef d'œuvre, dear Victoria.”
Given his Russian accent just had an influx of French tone, it’s a French word that neither Sebastian nor I understand.
“If he’s a masterpiece, he needs to be in the zoo.”
Sebastian chokes. “Hey!”
Ah, something did happen last night in their room. Everyone’s consenting adults and I don’t want to know any details regarding the time of the blackout or the morning after.
“Touché.” Fyodor tips his head as the elevator descends, his eyes looking over Victoria’s hand that’s enclosed in mine through an iron hold.
“He was quiet…exquisite—”
Victoria hums. “Not interested, Fyodor. What I want to know is, did you email the documents over to them?”
“Spain has such a difficult time difference from America.” He shakes his head, a slight disappointment on his face.
He turns to me. “What do you think of being a long-term bodyguard?”
“This is a long-term job,” I comment plainly.
Sebastian sighs, Fyodor cocks an eyebrow, and Victoria looks between us with a clueless expression. She’s so beautiful that my eyes linger on her for way too long until it’s interrupted by a deliberate throat clearing from Fyodor.
“Victoria will be going to do a business deal for me, but she needs you to protect her. Also, she will be the silent partner in our company and naturally, would draw in enemy flies.”
I shouldn’t be surprised that Fyodor would want her to be his silent partner. She’s a smart woman with the ability to separate business and pleasure. I would trust her with everything, and Fyodor does too.
“The permanent place beside her is open if you are interested, but of course, you will be paid generously.”
“I don’t care about the money, but I will take that place.” As if I’ll let another man be near her. I have heard many stories from fellow workers that attractions can be sparked on first look and second touch, but nothing fuels the passion like secrecy and anonymity of one night before they return to their lives.
“Good and Happy Valentine’s day. This is my present to you lovely couple.”
Victoria blushes and leans towards me as the door opens. The lobby is filled with people checking out and coming in, the convention is still happening, and we have at least three more days of business to work through.
I wanted the convention to end quickly before, but I don’t want that right now. I want to be able to look to my side and see that sunshine smile on her face.
I have the rest of our lives to bask in her love.
Epilogue
Victoria
Three Years Later.
“Fuck me, fuck this, and fuck you all!”
I bring my eyes up from my book, the other hand rubbing my six-month pregnant belly; it’s our second child. We want to leave the sex of the baby up in the air until it is time for me to be in labor. The guessing and the neutral gifts that everyone got us keeps us on the edge as Sebastian bets the baby is going to be a girl because our son likes to bully him.
He wants a little niece to dress up and play house with. Everyone knows he wants to put on a flowery apron and go to town on the kitchen stove.
Sadly, he has no talent in culinary skills, and he tends to risk the lives of everyone in the vicinity because he gets heated and competitive with himself.
Sebastian lays on the bed, head facing the window where he gets the most sunshine for being locked in a hospital room for so long.
It’s not the most pleasant thing to say, but he had to get surgery on his hemorrhoid. It is absolutely horrendous hearing those disgusting details of him telling me what had happened for the fifth time since he had co
me out of surgery.
He is confined to bed rest, and in the hospital for best recovery; the doctor’s orders are more frightening than anything I have ever heard.
Not even Fyodor’s suggestion of letting him rest in his multimillion-dollar home can move the doctor nor did she appreciate being disrespected by his insulation that she can’t do her job because she is not a doctor that has much money or went to the best medical school.
I haven’t seen Fyodor shut up that fast ever since a strict professor laid down a verbal beating about his arrogant behavior and disrupting class by coming in with loud voices and hideously bright clothing.
I didn’t feel sorry for him despite being his friend. It’s his fault for being an annoying man with a ring of Hawaiian flowers around his neck.
“Read to me, Tori!” Sebastian whines, kicking his feet and regretting it promptly as he takes in a sharp breath.
“Ow! I need more meds!” he screams, but no one in the room pays any attention to him. “Oh shit!”
Pain means nothing when he puts his hand on top of his butt, eyes filled with horror and utter defeat. “I have to poop.”
“Then go,” I say, returning to my book.
I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t sounded so miserable on the phone. I was going to visit him the next day when he isn’t in too much pain, but I couldn’t leave Sebastian in the hands of Fyodor of all people.
Silas is okay, but Fyodor will probably inadvertently feed him something that the doctor specifically said to avoid just because he has no self-control when Sebastian is screaming.
Silas came with me to the hospital, not because he wants to know about the hemorrhoid experience but I’m six-months pregnant, and he is an overprotective dad.
Our son is lying on the couch, taking his afternoon nap and nothing in the world can wake him up.
“Laxatives are working,” he says with a hiccup, managing to get his way into the bathroom before a bellow of profanities echoes out of the bathroom.
The doctor wants to guarantee he doesn’t get constipated due to the limited option of food choices; they had to give him laxatives, so he goes to the bathroom every day.