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CHAPTER 64 : THE ICE WIFE 1

Author: Déesse
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-03-18 07:04:00

Diane

Morning comes not as a dawn, but as a sentence.

The light filtering between the slats of the shutters is gray, implacable. It warms nothing. It exposes. It outlines the contours of the room, the clothes in tatters on the parquet floor, the thick silence between the two bodies that no longer touch.

I have been awake for a long time, lying on my side, eyes open. I feel the emptiness behind me, where Liam finally lay down in the early hours, at a calculated distance. I

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  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 127 : The Poisoned Embrace

    LORENZOShe is there, curled against me, her skin still feverish against mine. Her breathing is calm now, rhythmic like a tide settled after a storm. I run my fingers through her tangled hair, damp with sweat, and I feel my heart swell with a joy so pure it's almost painful. Dio mio, she is perfect. My Aurélie, so tight, so receptive, as if her body had been shaped for mine alone. Yesterday, with Béatrice, it was good, raw, animal, but this. This is something else. A divine connection, a fire that consumes me and rebuilds me at every moment.I hold her tighter, my arm around her slender waist, possessive. She doesn't move, inert but warm, and this complicit silence drives me mad with happiness. "My wife," I murmur again, the words heavy with triumph. She is mine. Completely. Her virgin body, or what remained of it, opened for me, welcomed me with an eagerness that surprised me, electrified me. Every contraction around me, every stifled moan,

  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 126 : The Awakening of the Masks 3

    AURÉLIEHe accepts. He is gentle, as promised. Cautious, patient. He seeks, guides with an exasperating and delicious slowness. The pressure at my entrance becomes insistent, almost questioning, then forthright, determined.The pain is a white flash. Brief, sharp, blinding, a burning knife that splits me in two. A high-pitched moan, utterly authentic, escapes my throat, muffled by the pillow. A sound I don't recognize, the sound of a wounded animal.He stops immediately. His whole body tenses, on alert.— Are you okay? Dio mio, Aurélie, are you okay?His voice is a hoarse whisper, laden with a concern that wrenches my heart horribly, fills me with a shame so deep I feel nauseous.I nod frantically, my eyes squeezed shut, tears of pain and emotion seeping from under my lids.— Yes. Yes, continue. Please.He resumes his movement. Slow. Deep, with a calculated slowness that makes every milli

  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 125 : The Awakening of the Masks 2

    AURÉLIEThe waiter enters, pushing his silver cart. Neutral smile, gaze that sees nothing, fixed on a point above our shoulder. The clinking of silverware, the whisper of fine porcelain on the marble tray. Then the smell. Fresh coffee, acrid and powerful. Warm butter, almost caramelized, sweet raspberry jam. The clean, comforting smell of toasted bread. It invades the room, attacks the other smell, the carnal, nocturnal one, gradually covering it. It's a physical relief. I can breathe again without my stomach heaving.Lorenzo has sat up, the sheet pulled up around his waist. He watches the scene, amused, his eyes still heavy, but a gleam of appetite shines there, directed at the golden croissants.When we are alone, I pour the coffee. Black, scalding, steaming. I hand him the cup. Our fingers brush. A spark, an electric contact that makes me inwardly flinch.— You thought of everything.He blows on the black liquid. His eyes are clear now, fully awake. They scrutinize me, but it's a s

  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 124 : The Awakening of the Masks 1

    AURÉLIEThe suite door closes behind me with a dull, definitive click. The same sound as a few hours ago. But everything has changed.The air is thick, saturated. A smell of warm skin, dried sweat, sex, and soiled linen. Their night. My stomach twists, clenches to the point of nausea. The dawn light, golden and sharp, filters through the gaps in the curtains, striping the twilight and illuminating the dancing dust. It lights up the bed. A battlefield. Torn sheets, pillows thrown on the floor, blanket bunched at the foot of the mattress. A black silk stocking hangs, languid, from a corner of the nightstand, like a flag abandoned on a site of defeat.Lorenzo is there. Lying on his side, naked. Back turned. A mass of relaxed muscles, of golden skin. Strands of his dark hair stick to his damp nape. And I see the marks. Bright red streaks, parallel, on his right shoulder blade. Deep scratches, almost violent. The imprints of Béatrice's nails, the passionate clawing of a panther marking its

  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 123 : The Whisper of the Sheets 2

    BéatriceThe word resonates strangely. Receptive. Not passionate, not ardent. Receptive. Like a receptacle. The thought flashes through my mind, burning and humiliating, and yet it fans the fire within me.He suddenly withdraws, leaving me empty, trembling, frustrated. Before I can protest, he lies down on his back.— Come here. I want to see you.I turn, unsteady. His eyes gleam in the twilight, fixed on me. I understand. I straddle him, taking my time, feeling every millimeter of his erection against me before sinking down. This position gives me an illusion of control. I place my hands on his chest, feel his heart pounding under my palms. And I begin to move. Slowly at first, in circles, seeking the angle that makes sparks flicker behind my eyelids. Then up and down, taking his full length, filling myself to the throat with each descent.He watches me, fascinated. His hands rest on my thighs, then rise to grasp my waist, helping me, guiding me. But I am leading the dance. I close m

  • Désiré Me 2   Chapter 122 : The Whisper of the Sheets

    BéatriceHis arms, as solid as oak beams, carry me out of the shower. My legs are like marshmallow, my head rests limply against his shoulder. The cool air of the bathroom, after the humid furnace, makes me shiver. He says nothing, his steps silent on the wet tile. He lays me down gently on the vast, unmade bed, on the rumpled silk sheets that still hold the warm imprint of our bodies and the acrid smell of our night's exertions.The dawn light, more forthright now, filters through the gaps in the curtains, striping the bedroom's twilight with pale gray blades. I can see him distinctly. Water beads on his tanned skin, on the tense muscles of his shoulders, on the dark down of his chest. He looks at me, lying before him, naked, offered, still trembling from the last aftershocks of my orgasm and the shock of the shower. His gaze is no longer questioning. It is inhabited, possessive. As if he has just conquered a contested territory and is marking its boundaries.He lies down next to me,

  • Désiré Me 2   CHAPTER 94 : THE CANVAS 2

    DianeHesitation paralyzes me. It is the leap into the void. The acceptance of everything this means: the betrayal of myself, the entry into his game, the recognition of this twisted attraction.But the memory of his caress on my skin, of the fever he ignites, is stronger.I close my eyes one last

  • Désiré Me 2   CHAPTER 93 : THE CANVAS

    DianeThe French door closes behind us with a dull click, sealing off the outside world. The air-conditioned air of the house, dead and perfumed, hits me again. After the brutal frankness of the night, it feels deceitful.He crosses the living room without a glance at me, heading towards the table

  • Désiré Me 2   CHAPTER 92 : THE STORM

    Diane— I only did what you expected of me.— No. You did more. You understood the rules. You played with them.He takes a step towards the house. I follow him, my heels sinking into the gravel with a crunching sound that seems disproportionately loud. The large door opens before us, swallowing the

  • Désiré Me 2   CHAPTER 90 : THE LIGHTS 2

    DianeHe leads us to the raised alcove, the table that dominates the room without truly being in it. A throne, indeed. I pull out her chair for her. She sits down, the rustle of satin a serpent’s whisper. I take the seat opposite her. The ritual of the menu, the wine list, takes place. I decide, I

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