006

ELIJAH

I was pacing the hall outside my room when I spotted her.

Mila, walking down the hallway, her face tight, eyes sharp, the kind of anger you couldn’t ignore.

I quickened my pace, following her before she disappeared into some corner of the house.

“Hey,” I called, trying to keep my voice calm. “Mila, wait.”

She didn’t turn, just kept walking, jaw clenched. I caught up, matching her pace. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

She finally glanced at me, eyes flashing. “What’s going on?” she repeated, voice low but tense. “My mother decided she’s getting married. Without asking anyone. Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“I…Mila, I get it. I understand. But you’re letting it eat you alive. Just… breathe. Come on, let’s sit.”

She finally stopped at her room, swinging the door open. She didn’t say a word, just walked inside. I followed, closing the door behind me.

I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her pace. She looked… small. Vulnerable. Angry, yes, but I could feel the weight pressing down on her.

“I hate this,” she muttered, curling her fists. “Everything is so messed up.”

I reached out, touching her arm lightly. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

She looked at me, and for a second, all the anger and tension in her body softened.

Then, without warning, she pressed her lips to mine. It was quick, urgent, but soft in a way that made my chest tighten.

“I needed a distraction,” she whispered.

“Good,” I said, a grin breaking through despite everything. “I’m more than happy to be your distraction.”

Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer.

I kissed her back, deeper, letting the frustration and fear of the day melt away, even if only for a moment.

She pushed me back into bed, pulling down my pants.

Her cold mouth wrapped around my hard cock.

The motion was swift and practiced.

She was sucking the life out of me.

I could feel my ghost slowly leave me body.

“I want to fuck you.” I whispered,y voice laced with hunger and desperation.

I flipped her over on the bed, Mila happily arched her ass up in the air.

Her cute butthole stared back at me.

My thumb instinctively rubbed it, in a way she loved and that earned me moan.

I bent to briefly to eat her out before I thrust into her, tapping that butthole once or twice.

I could feel my body shake from pleasure.

I tried to fuck her as long as I could, holding back as much a so could.

But I was already cumming.

Exhaustion washed over me.

There's no way I can keep going.

But even as I tried, she pulled back halfway, a sigh escaping her lips.

“I’m not satisfied,” she said suddenly.

I froze, pulling out. “I tried to…”

“I know,” she muttered. “I just… sometimes this, us, it’s never enough. I need more.”

My chest tightened, anger and hurt mixing into one. “More? What do you mean I’m never enough for you? I’m here, Mila. I’m giving you everything I have…I'm trying, aren't I?”

She shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know. You can’t… satisfy me like I need.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So what, now? You’re just going to go find someone else?”

She turned toward me, calm but cold. “If I need to, yes. I don’t want to, but sometimes… I have to do what I need.”

My jaw clenched. “Do what you need? Mila, you can’t just walk out and leave me here every time you’re frustrated!”

She didn’t answer. She just stood, grabbing her clothes and slipping them on. “I need space. I’ll be back later.”

And then she left. Just like that.

Leaving me burning with anger, betrayal, and frustration.

I stayed in the room for a while, letting the fury and hurt settle, before finally dragging myself back toward my own room.

I had just barely shut the door when there was a knock. I froze.

“Elijah, sir?” a voice said timidly. It was prolly a servant.

Sir?

“What?” I snapped and regretted it immediately.

“The coffee… Andrade’s coffee. He doesn’t like it late,” the servant said, fidgeting nervously.

He held a tray in his hands.

I cursed under my breath. Shit. I forgot.

“I’ll handle it.” I barked, grabbing the tray.

The hallway to Andrade’s room felt longer than usual.

Every step made my pulse jump, my nerves fraying.

I rounded the corner and stopped at his door, taking a breath.

I knocked more than thrice.

No response.

I decided to push the doors and they swung freely making me take a step back.

The mini bar was stocked with top-shelf whiskey and glasses lined perfectly.

A leather armchair sat facing the window.

A glorious king size bed that looked so soft.

I stepped in, walking to the table to set the tray, trying not to make a sound.

And then I felt a movement behind me.

“Shit,” I whispered.

Andrade’s shadow fell across the room before I could turn.

The man was quiet, impossibly still, watching me. I froze. My heart was hammering.

I jumped back instinctively, spilling coffee across the floor.

The cup toppled from my hands, crashing against the wood with a loud crack. My stomach dropped.

“Careless.” Andrade said, voice calm, controlled, but sharp as a blade.

I froze. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier. I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn't think.