by V. F. Mason
That’s true. The biggest challenge is to not become the monster like the person who made you one. I lost in this game, because my revenge is not for my sake. Nothing can save my soul.
But for others not to be like me, so they can win. Sometimes we think there is a higher mission and fight so much for justice that we become the very thing we hate, and while I didn’t become a pastor in that sense of the word… I am a monster.
And I don’t hide from this truth.
The burning in my chest and the tenderness that shows itself when Valencia is around is the only indication I’m alive, besides the beating heart that pumps blood through my system.
She doesn’t deserve any of this, but we are the product of our choices.
Deep down, she loves me, even if she doesn’t say it out loud. And she hopes she can change me or find a straw she can hold on to, even without realizing it.
Hope is a fickle thing. Sometimes it gives an illusion of a different reality when in fact nothing of the sort exists.
Jason wasn’t the bad boy who broke the perfect good girl.
That will be me.
She grabs my hand, squeezing it between hers, and I close my eyes, wincing, hating the weakness that slowly spreads inside me.
I’ve trained myself not to flinch from touches, to forget about the boy who got victimized only a daily basis, who was afraid of his own shadow sometimes, even if he had to show the world otherwise.
Even during sex, I was always in a state where I could concentrate only on pleasure, for the light reprieve it gave me.
With Valencia, I don’t have to do any of these things. Her smell, her presence, the softness of her skin, and her raspy breath bring me reprieve, yes, but I want to forget myself in it with her.
Be with her all the way, calmness that never comes if she’s not around.
I feel her hands on my chest as they travel to my neck and slide up to palm my face, and I meet her gaze, as she whispers, “We would have been a romantic couple who met in Italy and fell in love at first sight.” Her fingers gently rub my cheeks, while the puff of our breaths fills the space between us.
“Such things don’t exist,” I reply, inwardly begging her to let me go and stop searching for something that doesn’t exist.
A part of me, small part, wishes of giving her that.
But I can’t.
She is mine, and because she is mine, she has to suffer. No part of me can live without it for long.
“I wish it were true,” she says, and then she places a soft kiss on my lips and slowly opens her mouth, asking permission.
I remove myself from her arms and step back. “You are a prisoner here. Did you forget?” She jumps at my harsh voice while turning to the side. “For both our sakes, let’s stay in our color zones. Black and white.”
I move in the direction of the house, when her voice from behind stops me. “No place for gray?”
Willing all my self-control into my fist, I walk away from the garden, hating every step that takes me away from her.
For the first time, two words play in my mind, despite my iron belief to never use them.
What if?
Valencia
Shifting on the bed, I roll onto my side and huff loudly. No matter what position I take, I can’t get comfortable or let my mind rest.
Considering all the circumstances, this is heaven on earth and I should be seeing pink dreams while resting on the silky sheets.
Instead, my mind is occupied with his last words and the music coming from downstairs that sounds oddly familiar, even though I can’t place it.
You think only your truth has merit. Isn’t that ignorance?
He said this to me back in Italy when I argued about Greek history with him, but these words can be applied here as well. “Why do I care?” I murmur, hiding under the pillow, hoping to evade his voice in my head, but it doesn’t work.
After the game, he told me to stay put in either my room or the living room and threw several folders at me, which had different floor plans and ideas.
Turns out, they were renovations he has planned for Patricia’s studio and reports showing that it’s a wonder the place hasn’t blown up with how old all the systems are. In a way, he has helped these kids and it warms my heart.
Confuses it too.
Levi and Maria were nowhere to be found as I studied his house, noticing his everything is about mystery and luxury, as if he is showing off to someone.
And all the security, why does he need it?
After strolling through the mansion where various cameras located on the ceiling probably traced my every move, I grabbed a bite and locked myself inside the room.
Which brings me to now, where I try to sleep, because it seems way easier than having all these thoughts swirling in my mind, but it isn’t working.
I still hear the music and finally recognize the Mozart tune.
Giving up on sleep all together, I throw away the blankets and curl my toes into the carpet. The heat is on full force in the mansion, so I remove the sweater, leaving me only in a nightgown. Rolling my eyes at the stupid silk that sticks to my skin, I pad softly into the hallway and follow the sound, ending up in the common room where I danced yesterday.
Lachlan sits by the piano, drumming on one of the keys with his finger as he sips from his whiskey glass and music plays in the background. It’s pitch dark, the only source of light coming from the ceiling, giving Lachlan an even more dangerous vibe.
“Go to bed, Valencia,” he orders, not even looking at me, his voice void of any emotion.
“I can’t.” What’s the point of lying or pretending?
Dwelling on it for hours, I came to the conclusion there is no greater agenda for having me here. He probably kidnapped me for himself but can’t admit to this weakness he feels for me.
It’s easier for him to hide behind the façade of indifference and this scary individual who wishes me harm, but the truth is he didn’t do anything personally to me, aside from psychological torture. He is punishing me for what I don’t know, but that is also keeping him from truly allowing himself to want me.
And instead, he has created this scary reality around me to explore him and me without lies.
I don’t care if he kills someone who deserves it. Maybe I should, but I don’t, or that’s the conclusion I came to.
Maybe if I gave us a chance all those months ago, everything would have been different. He wouldn’t get obsessed to get me, because I’d be by his side. “Have you slept with anyone in the last six months?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I have no business asking it, since I went right back to Max. Granted, nothing ever happened between us, but still.
I just want to know.
His fingers pause midair right before he is about to hit the key again and he looks at me, while I do the same, not hiding anything from him. “Question time is over, Valencia.” But I push it, because beneath it says something else.
A storm that needs an outcome.
“I didn’t know you play.”
“You don’t know a lot of things. Get back to your room.”
“No. Your family played?” This explains his love for classical music that is almost part of the design of this place. He shuts the piano with a loud thud, gets up facing me as liquid spills on the floor from his glass, but he doesn’t care.
His hollow laughter echoes in the room, as he replies, “Since you insist. I have my aunt to thank for that.” I think he wants to pass by me, but I stand in his way, so he huffs in frustration and says, “If I just had the chance to tell her goodbye… I would have done so with a song. She loved how I played. Told me it soothed her soul. I wish I could have done it after he told her the truth. It was the only way I could have shown her what fire raged inside me and calmed her storm.”
He? The bad man who hurt him?
But he doesn’t let me dwell on it much as he laces his hands around my head, pulling me so close to him there is barely an
y space left between us, his lips inches away from mine as he growls in my face. “You fucking stubborn woman, you want me to lose control, don’t you? Are you sure you are ready to see what’s beneath it?”
“No, I’m not.” It might burn and destroy me, but I’ve spent so much time running away from myself and my life, and I no longer wish to do so. “But I need to for both our sakes.”
We hold each other’s stare for a moment. The only thing I can hear is the buzzing in my ears while my whole body stills, awaiting his next action.
With a groan, he finally kisses me with all the frustration and passion brewing inside us. With a gasp, I open up to him, grabbing him by his shirt.
He demands entrance to my mouth by biting my lower lip hard before licking it and then pushing his tongue inside, and I surrender, allowing him to savor me in lazy strokes that are filled with so much pain yet softness that I forget to breathe, urgently seeking his every touch.
Pulling at my hair roughly, he lets go as we both catch our breath, and he murmurs before slapping his mouth back on mine, “No one. There has been no one.”
Relief along with lust envelops me, and I press against him harder, melting in his arms. I want to forever stay here with him, where my head doesn't think and I only concentrate on my heart that wants only him despite how wrong it all seems.
But I can still feel the fight in his rigid muscles, filled with tension, and even though everything in me protests against it, I step back. The tips of my fingers rub my swollen lips as his eyes trail my movement.
This time, I don't want to rush.
Extending my hand to him, I wait for him to pick it up, and he waits a beat before taking it. I turn around, dragging him after me as I go back to my room, not wanting to go to his, as it’s coated with previous lovemaking.
Where honesty wasn't present between us.
But with our wounds out in the open without the masks we can hide behind, I long to give myself to him freely in a different place where memories or reality don't exist.
There is just the present moment that no one can take away from us.
Finally, we reach the door, and I stop in front of it, his heat surrounding me while his hand wraps around my waist, his lips skimming over the skin of my nape. “We are pretending?” he murmurs, as he shifts his lips to the crook between my shoulder and neck while his hand slides lower, tearing a low moan from me. “As if we are different people with different circumstances?” Disgust coats his voice, showing me he hates just the idea of it.
Shaking my head, I enter the room while pulling him after me and whirl around to face him. My fingers immediately start to unbutton his shirt. “No. I don't want to forget or pretend. I want just once for us to be… us. With all the sins and good deeds.”
An unfamiliar emotion crosses his face, but he doesn't say anything else. He allows me to push back his shirt as he gets out of it, and I walk around him, remembering something.
Back in Italy when we made love, I noticed barely visible almost white scars on his back, but I never paid much attention to them, thinking he got them during one of his adrenaline rushes. But now, even though he didn't tell me anything about them, I suspect they come from far darker memories.
His back tenses as I trace my fingers over them, asking, “Did it hurt?” His soul probably harbors the same faded scars that have stayed there, no matter what.
Nothing ever can cure them, no matter how much you pour on a person.
They stay forever.
“No. These are from my uncle. They stopped quickly.” He doesn't elaborate and my brows furrow that someone could be this cruel to their family member, but I shake my head, because this is not about pain.
This is about us.
His breath hitches as I drop a few soft kisses on them. My hands unzip his jeans, and I rise on my tiptoes to place one final kiss behind his ear before I go back in front of him. Kneeling, I tug his pants down and his erection springs free. His hand at once laces in my hair, yanking me closer.
I slowly drag my tongue around the head, tasting the precum before closing my mouth around him, sucking him in as much as I can, and he groans as he fists my hair and pulls me closer. “Deeper, Valencia. You can take it deeper.” He rocks forward, and I tip my head slightly back as I listen to him, sucking harder and working over his length. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, squeezing it and earning me another groan as he tugs my hair harder, almost to the point of tears.
I focus on nothing but his taste, smell, power, and stripping this man of his iron control, and then I raise my eyes to catch his as he watches every move. His eyes are shadowed with desire, and it fires the blood inside me, zipping hot lava through me while my core drips with wetness coating my thighs. My fingers travel to cup his balls. As I let go of him, I lick him from head to base, tasting the soft skin on the underside of his cock, and then my hand slides up and down.
My body aches, my nipples pucker, and I moan around the head before sucking on it lightly. What I’m doing must send vibrations through him, because I’m roughly hauled up, and without giving me a chance to take a breath, he tears the nightgown away. I only have time to blink as he throws me on the bed where I bounce, ending up on my back.
My heart stills and then gallops again as I see the expression on his face when he removes the strands of hair that fell over my face.
I think the gentle part has ended and I’m about to be fucked hard.
Lachlan
This woman is my undoing.
I can’t think through the buzzing in my ears and the raging beast inside me that chants one thing only.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
I tried to stay away, leave her alone until my plan came to fruition, so we both wouldn’t suffer more, which is inevitable at this point. But she had to come to me and demand this.
How could I have refused? I’m powerless against her, and when she gives me this mouth of hers that…
No.
I can’t use this word.
That drags on me as if nothing and no one in this world exist but her for me, there is just no way to resist her.
Just remembering her hot, wet mouth sucking off my cock makes me almost come on the spot, but I focus on her body splayed in front of me, flushed and needy as she stretches on the bed, showing me every graceful part of her.
Hooking my hands on her knees, I yank her closer as I kneel on the carpet, my breath fanning her dripping pussy as she pants loudly, her fingers skimming over her stomach. I put her feet flat on the bed so nothing will be between us.
A man has to be comfortable before he feeds on his woman.
Nuzzling into her heat, I swipe my tongue from bottom to top, spreading the wetness all over her as her hips rise, seeking my touch, but I still her, ordering, “Patience, darling.” Breathing in her unique smell, I taste her sweetness on my tongue and dive back in, probing deep inside her and swirling it against her walls as her pussy clenches tight, her thighs almost squeezing the breath out of me.
My fingers rub her ass cheeks, settling her down as I continue to push my tongue back and forth, mimicking the act of fucking, preparing this pussy of hers for deeper penetration. My thumb presses against her clit, massaging it.
“I want—” Her hips roll into me as I lick her again, from one lower lip to the other, filling her emptiness with two fingers, giving her all my attention.
Her scream can probably be heard downstairs, and that fills me with male pride and possessiveness. I want to beat my chest and let everyone know this beautiful woman belongs to me and no one can make her feel this but me.
Sucking her clit into my mouth, I play with it, dragging it from side to side until she moves relentlessly and her pussy almost swallows my fingers whole. She is close to coming and finding the one sensation she so desperately yet gorgeously seeks.
I pull back, then continue again with soft licks before diving back again, using my touches to bring her to the edge, only to slow down and repeat the process all over
again.
Her wetness coats my mouth and I love it. I want to rub her scent on my skin so her smell is forever imprinted on me.
She presses my face closer to her pussy, demanding I finish, but instead of listening, I slide my tongue up her stomach, dipping it into her belly button, and graze the soft skin with my tongue. I move up and bite the underside of her breast, quickly soothing it with long licks. “Lachlan, please,” she begs, her nails raking my back, but I merely rock against her, touching her wetness with the tip of my cock but then focus back on her breast.
Not so fast.
Tweaking her nipple, I bring it closer to my mouth and then suck on it hard, flattening my tongue against it and then swirling around it while she bucks against me. I hold her steady, continuing to pleasure her as my fingers pay attention to the other breast, and I slide my mouth there, repeating the action, biting on sensitive flesh, causing her to groan.
I can taste her for hours, enjoying every second of it, but I can’t wait anymore. The roaring need will drive us both insane if I don’t get inside her right fucking now.
Sucking her neck, I make sure to leave my mark on it so she’ll always fucking remember who makes her body ache, and before she knows what’s happening, I enter her with one swift move, digging my fingers into her ass, adjusting her for a better angle.
Fuck, she is tight, so fucking tight I almost lose it right there. I catch my breath as she cries out and wraps her legs around me, pushing into my ass. “Move, Lachlan.”
“You are not in charge, darling,” I say, thrusting deep as her breath hitches. “I am.” Despite all my talk though, I pull out only to slide back in again, groaning as she tightens around me more and more with each thrust.
“Please, Lachlan. I want—” she rasps, hugging me closer while squeezing me inside her as I rock back and forth, giving yet denying us at the same time.
I continue this for some time, enjoying her every hitch, smell, and skin coated in sweat and a blush. I know there is no one but us in her head.
As it always should be in an ideal world, but life is not that kind to us after all.