Trying To Heal

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Derek

I softly crushed the space next to me. Feeling the pillow, I managed to open my eyes properly. She is not here. Rubbing the sleepiness away, I blink and squint at the burning sunlight. The dogs are snuggled on the opposite sofa. Bella is wide awake, perched on a windowsill, and dilated at a bird on a flowering tree branch.

I wanted to spend the night and finish the show with her. I wanted to have that quality time. It has been difficult for me to appreciate the little things; with the workload, I have regarding the Azrael. I wonder if the workload will consume my entirety once I am the head of Dad's business. But I felt so secure beside her, so safe and so relaxed. If the world was about to end, I would not be fazed. God, what a beautiful rest that was. So, refreshing, so energizing, it could keep me awake for a whole week.

Washed up and scented of mint, I find her in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. I slant on the doorframe, crossing my arms and watching her scramble an egged mixture. Her dark hair is mussed, no doubt has a few knots judging by the curls, and gathered into a low ponytail. She is wearing my shirt, and it droops and wickedly teases to pool at her feet. She does appear rather appealing in my clothes.

As April peels the scrambled eggs onto a white plate, I cage her waist in my arms and bury my head into her right shoulder. I feel her beam expanding through the tender, "Morning. You're just in time for breakfast."

My palms flatten on her clothed stomach. "I bet something else is more fulling."

I chuckled lowly, softly, and abundantly at her eye roll. "Don't you ever get tired?"

"I have a high sex drive."

She shudders as I dive my hands lower yet refusing to tease her naked thighs. "That must be exhausting."

My mouth tickled her ear lobe, "Are you sore?"

She bites her lower lip. "I can do another one."

"I asked if you are sore, love."

"Not really."

My fingers fraction closer to her supple flesh, hooking the hem of my black shirt. Fucking hell, she looks so sexy like this. In my clothes. In my kitchen. In my Manor. "I make promises because I know I can keep them." The delicate murmurs spark the shivers in her curling toes. "And I envisage the promise I made to you yesterday— I want to fuck you everywhere in this house. Let's finish what we started, shall we?"

She expires a hasty moan of avidity, prolonging my smirk. "For your whole life, you followed the rules. I can see that you are tired of being good." Encompassing her neck and branding the bridge of her throat onto mine, for my lips to deride her almond cheek. She bites her lip harder, I was sure she could draw blood. "Am I right? Tell me. You have these dark fantasies, and you are afraid to verbalise them out loud like a good little Catholic girl at her reconciliation. But I know what you want."

"Do you?" It was barely a whisper.

"You want someone to wreck this ideal body of yours," I say so gently, so softly, that the sarcasm could never be discerned. "To use you like a sex doll." Into her ear, "I promise you, once more, that I will be that someone. I will make you beg me to come. To weep to me to come like a stupid, deranged slut, and it will be glorious."

"Then—then do it."

I sledded a sardonic laugh. "Ten in the morning and you are already pathetic."

"I love it when you talk to me like that," she sighed.

Tremors spasmed my cock. Does she love it? She loves it. Yeah, she is just for me. Just for me. Created so beautifully, it is the greatest sin. What a punishment.