Whatever I do with my love life is none of your business.
Nikolai
I’m making it mine. I told you if you don’t get it done, I’ll do it for you.
I stare with wide eyes as he sends me a picture of a girl sitting beside him in a pub.
Clara.
She’s wearing the same dress from earlier and smiling in her drink.
Nikolai
Be at the below address in twenty minutes or I’ll send you a video of her riding my cock.
My ears heat and I struggle against the wave of nausea that shoots up my throat.
I slam my hand on the sink and breathe in loud inhales and exhales, but nothing calms down my rampaging heart. A part of me knows I should either text him and tell him not to do it or ignore him altogether, but that’s not what I do.
Fuck!
I storm out of the house and get into my car. I probably shouldn’t be driving when I’m a little drunk, but I can’t seem to give a fuck as I speed out of the property and head to the address the twat sent me.
It takes me a whole seventeen fucking minutes to arrive at an apartment complex near The King’s U campus.
I punch in the code to the building that he sent me and take the lift to the penthouse. Another code. Another wasted fucking minute I don’t have time for.
The lift opens in the middle of a spacious flat with a transparent ceiling that shows the partially clouded sky and some stars.
The lighting is dim and intimate, like this is a setting for a romantic night.
My anger is barely tucked beneath the surface, tearing and pulling at my precariously standing walls as I stride in the direction of what must be the bedroom.
Giggles reach me first, followed by the rumble of a very familiar voice. I stop in front of the ajar door, sucking nonexistent breaths into my burning lungs.
I should leave and put this entire thing behind me.
Forget.
Deny.
Pretend.
Be in control—
“Wow, you have such a massive cock. And, oh my God, these piercings are fantastic!”
The words purred by none other than Clara have me abandoning any form of resolve I’m grasping at. I let myself free fall, headfirst, my brain propelling past the nausea in my throat and spilling all around me.
I push the door open to be greeted by Clara kneeling between Nikolai’s legs, her hands wrapped around his dick.
He sits on the bed, leaning back on his palms, and he’s only in his boxer briefs that Clara pulled down to free his cock.
Now she’s fisting him, watching, marveling, and admiring.
His gaze shoots to mine as soon as I stand in the doorway, his eyes darkening in an instant as his lips lift in a cruel smirk. “Call me babe, Clara.”
“I can’t wait for you to get this huge cock in me, babe.”
The snap happens in a fraction of a second.
A red haze crawls into my vision until I can only see that fucking color.
On the way here, I thought the raging anger was because Clara was being Clara again.
I thought it was because Nikolai was touching her.
But it’s not until this very moment that the depressing truth crashes into me.
I never gave two flying fucks about Clara. Zilch. Nada.
What’s driving me to the edge of myself isn’t her. It’s her touching Nikolai.
It’s not about her. It’s about him.
Bloody fucking hell.
I shoulder through the door and grab her by a fistful of hair and haul her to her feet. She shrieks and stumbles, finally getting her claws off him.
“What the—” She cuts herself off when I jerk her to a standing position, eyes widening when they meet mine. “Bran…it’s not what you think. I was just lonely and hurt by your rejection and…and…”
“Shut it.” My voice is steady but firm, and her lips form an O.
I’ve never spoken to Clara in this tone. Not when she cheated. Not when everyone called her a gold-digging bitch.
All this time, I didn’t hate her.
I didn’t feel anything for her to hate her.
Now, I want to wrap my fingers around her neck and watch as the life leaves her sleazy eyes.
“Leave,” I say, still speaking so calmly despite the pent-up chaos brewing inside me.
“Baby, please—”
“Nuh-uh,” Nikolai cuts her off this time as he yanks her from my grip and pushes her toward the door. “He’s not your fucking baby.”
He’s dressed now, if boxer briefs can be considered that, and I drag my gaze away from him.
If I don’t, I’ll be tempted to punch him, and I don’t fucking do that.
Clara stares between us, brow furrowing, and I fix my eyes on her, hands jammed in my pockets, without saying a word.
“Off you go,” Nikolai barks and throws the Chanel bag at her. “Don’t let me see you again.”
She wants to say something else, but Nikolai’s glare seems to scare her to the bone, because she jogs out of the room as if she’s being chased.
Soon after, I hear the ding of the lift, but her smell doesn’t disappear.
Fucking flowers.
It lingers in the room and on the man behind me like a ghost.
Fuck him.
Refusing to face him, I start toward the door. “Well, good night, then.”
“Fuck no.” He slams the door shut with a palm on the side of my head. His chest presses to my back, jamming me against the wood as his hot breaths whisper in my ear, “You’re not going anywhere, lotus flower.”
NIKOLAI
Ican taste the flames of hesitation and the warring conflict rolling off my lotus flower in waves, and I want to dart my tongue out and consume it.
Suck it between my lips.
Crunch it beneath my teeth.
Bran’s back muscles stiffen underneath my chest like whenever he’s trying to fight, escape, or reject whatever lurks in his scornful head. I’ve given up trying to understand how his mind works, give him space, or be logical about these emotions sweeping me away.
I suck at that.
My modus operandi has always been to act first and think of consequences later. There’s no reason why that should change now.
Besides, he obviously wants me. I can see it in his mystic eyes that often conceal his feelings, but when the mask drops, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in that coral blue, surrounded by a halo of lust.
Sure, there’s also hate and disregard as well. There’s confusion and self-preservation. But who gives a fuck about those irrelevant emotions?
Certainly not me.
Tension rolls and crackles whenever we’re in the same space. It doesn’t matter whether it’s in public or in the confinement of my bedroom. If he’s here, I’m soaring and riding on the high of his presence.
The beast in me wants to drag out the hidden beast in him and play.
I want to shatter his control, wreak havoc on his golden-boy image, and disrupt his life.
I want to sink my teeth into his skin and feed on the lust that radiates from his unsaid words.
Until I drain him.
Until there’s nothing left of him. Or me.
I inch even closer so that I’m covering him entirely and my raging erection presses against his firm ass.
Needless to say, I’ve been as hard as a rock since he shoved Clara away from me. I like to think he didn’t want her to touch me, not the other way around.
Because he told her to leave and he didn’t follow.
Call me delusional, but I choose to believe the calm anger he displayed was due to being possessive of me.
He squirms, his ass brushing accidentally—or not so accidentally—against my cock and I groan.
God-fucking-damn-it.
Why the fuck is mere contact turning me into an animal? The thought of claiming him ticks in my brain like a bomb, drowning any trace of other thoughts. Not that I have many of those when he’s around, but still.
He inches closer to the door as if he can escape me. Not possible in this lifetime and any future ones, if I have a say in it.
“Don’t touch me,” he orders, but his voice carries nothing of the usual haughtiness he breathes instead of air.
“But I love touching you, my Prince Charming.”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you love, and I’m not your Prince Charming.” He swings around, the sheer mass of his body lunging forward, eyes blazing with a fire so fucking wild, I want to fan it, turn it as bright as an inferno.
He tries to push against me, but I slam my hands against the door on either side of his head, my chest shoving his. I’m so close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath and see that fire burning in his eyes.
More.
I smirk, staring down at his puffed-out lips. “Someone is mad.”
“Fuck you.”
“Baby, you know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
He grabs me by the throat, fingers digging ruthlessly into the sides. “You need to stay the hell away from me.”
“No.” I try to step closer and he tightens his grip until I can barely breathe. My lungs burn, and I can feel the veins in my neck bulging.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Mmm. Love it when you get rough.”
“You think I’m joking?” His short nails sink into my skin. “Touch me and I’ll choke you to death.”
“Tell me more. Your mouth makes me so fucking hard.” I roll my hips and slam them against his groin.
And fuck.
Fuck me.