19: I Hope I Won’t Be Stabbed To Death One Day...

Eve.

He thought I was romancing his body, but I was just checking him intimately for weapons. When I couldn’t find any, I grinned wickedly and bumped my forehead against his back. Good. Now I can do this—

“Fuck…”

He cursed when I shot his leg with the pistol I had hidden behind my panties. The pistol had a silencer, so there was no loud bang, just a whisper in the air that dropped him helplessly to one knee. The bullet had definitely hit an artery. Perfect...

He was exactly where I needed him, on his fucking knees.

“i waited eight fucking years to do this. Worth it.” I set the pistol aside and paused to admire the blank expression on his face. He was in awe, but his pride wouldn’t let him show it.

Seeing his blood pooling on the floor, I smirked. Blood, just the way I liked it...I wanted him to bleed, and he was bleeding already. But I feared he might bleed to death, so I brought out the first aid kit and the necessary equipments to dig out the bullet, setting them down next to him.

Instead of glaring and hating me, he grinned widely and boldly at me. Oh, the effrontery…

I was the one glaring now.

I changed my mind. I wouldn’t be treating him. He didn’t need the help, and he hadn’t asked... begged for it either. 

I leaned against the front of the desk, almost sitting, and looked down on him with a glass of champagne in one hand and gold pocketwatch in the other.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Twenty-two minutes had passed. I took a sip from the glass I had refilled a few minutes ago. We occasionally locked eyes, and that smirk never once left his lips. It was getting on my nerves.

The next time I checked my pocket watch, forty-five minutes had passed since he started treating the gunshot wound. He was now wrapping the thigh I had shot with a generous amount of gauze. When he finished like a professional he was, his eyes met mine, again. My chest tightened at the sickening feeling his smile caused.

As he got on one knee, ready to stand, I walked over in a few steps and stretched out my hand to help, Instead, he reeled me in. 

In reverse, I was the one beneath him now. He pinned me down with his weight, looking down at me condescendingly. I didn’t fight him. Even if I wanted to, I ended up caressing his cheek and whispering,

“You know enough to sleep at night. That’s because of me. I let you sleep well at night.”

Because if he knew about Grace… I wasn’t sure this moment would be happening.

He knows that Keaton had been in an affair with my mother’s cousin once...

No comment. He was the chief of security and welfare.

I wasn’t sure about daddy, but Flavian and my mom had done well concealing the secret while Danielle lived out in the open.

Even in your death, Mother, you betrayed me.

“Eight years… and you still talk like a little bitch,” he said.

“Eight years and you still whine like a drunkard.”

“Ah. Enough talking.”

His lips gravitated toward mine magnetically. From seconds to minutes, our tongues danced and our saliva mixed. Right now, we were in sync. His hands wandered my body and mine wandered his, until we were stark naked on the cold marble floor, we broke apart only to catch our breaths.

The moment we separated, he went to put on a condom. Good. He wasn’t drunk this time for sure, which meant I didn’t have to worry about another accidental pregnancy.

 He whisked me up off the floor the second he returned, placing me on the dinner table. His teeth sank into my skin, forcing a moan from my lips. He claimed me by marking my neck.

“Ahh fuck… I need you now, please,” I whimpered, chewing my lower lip as his teeth and lips traveled my body.

“Mmmm… Say it louder, princess,” he muttered, spinning me around and pressing me against the table until I bent over, pressing my arse against his hardened cock.

“I need you.”

“You? What’s my name?”

“Flavian…”

“Call me Ian, love.”

The second I opened my mouth to speak, his fingers slid in, dragging out enough saliva. He mixed my spit with his, using it as lubricant for my crack before driving his cock in. My body quivered because this was the first time in a long, long while I had a dick in me. His dick, in me.

“Ian… Ahh fuck… Fuck me harder.”

He threaded his hand into my hair, jerking my neck back so he could bite the shell of my ear.

I wasn’t really a masochist, I didn’t have the diagnosis, but... this type of pain… Ahh, my fucked-up brain mistook it for pleasure. I was moaning at every bite he made on my body. He was still a beast. I would always be his beauty.

“Ahh, I’m coming, Ian… I’m coming.”

Always his slut.

“Not yet.”

“Noo, I… I can’t hold it… I can’t hold it in, please.”

“I said not yet,” his hoarse voice fell like a moan near my ear. My back arched as he tugged harder on my hair. The table suffered from the scratches of my nails the same way I was at his mercy right now.

His thrusts grew faster. Eventually, his hand slid from my hair, grazing my spine before reaching my waist.

“Ahh, let’s come together, princess,” he whispered against my back as he trailed kisses down my spine.

With my eyes rolling backward, my limbs almost gave out when I climaxed, but his firm grip on my waist supported me.

The moment he left me, my arse hit the floor.

I watched him slide off the condom, toss it aside, and head toward the same drawer he had taken it from. He pulled out another one, having me raise my brows in awe.

“Still got the stamina, huh, uncle?”

“This is just the warm-up. So get ready”

I was about to jump at his face and smack his loose lips, so rude, such nonchalance he dared display in front of the heir of the Waldorf Mafia.

“Kneel uncle, right now. Prove to me you're not an enemy.”

“Silly girl, you kneel to me in private. In this,” he gestured to the bed, “I’ll kneel when there’s an audience to serve.”

“Audience to serve? No. You serve me.”

“Yes, I do. But you serve me here. Understood?”

I rolled my eyes and walked up to him lethargically. “Understood.”

“Now, princess, get on your knees for me.”

I did.

“Good. My good girl. Open your mouth for me.”

I did.

“Now, suck it for me.”

I could barely do it. I hardly had enough room to breathe and almost gagged when he shoved his cock all the way to the back of my throat.

I was tempted to bite, but the urge to satisfy him pushed me desperately forward. While sucking, I wrapped my palms around his shaft. How can this monstrous weapon... yes I called it a l weapon... be what’s stabbing me? I hope I won’t be stabbed to death one day, I hope.

I rolled my eyes upward to focus on him, the way he moaned, the way his hand ruined my hair with pain while he was engulfed in the pleasure I was giving him. It just had to be me. I was the only one capable of handling him, I was sure.