𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 ✎

❥|𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.

Chloé Bourgeois was many things—a successful politician, the executive chairperson of Le Grand Paris hotel, a highly respected woman with the stubborn attitude of a mule, so to speak—she would do anything to get what she desired, and also, a wife who cherished her husband more than anything in the world.

But she wasn't one to have her emotions all over the place, even when burdened with the affairs of running the finest city in France.

She couldn't place her finger on it, but something felt odd. The nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach had yet to stop, despite all she did that evening.

In fact, it had gotten worse by the minute.

"And what are you thinking about at this time of night?"

She snapped her attention to her husband, whose presence was known by the sudden dip of the mattress.

"Uh, when did you get in?"

Speaking was much harder now that he drew lazy circles on the curve of her hips.

"I've been here the whole time." He responded in a dark, low voice as he maintained eye contact with her.

A mischievous smirk adorned his lips as his emerald green irises stared into her cobalt blue ones.

"A-Adrien, s-stop." Her lower abdomen pooled with warmth as his teeth lightly grazed the now hardening nipple, begging for attention under her nightdress.

"You sure?"

His eyes peered up at her as he softly caressed her left breast in his palm.

Chloé's eyes darkened with lust as she rolled her bottom lip in between her teeth, her breath becoming shallow.

Her head tilted back into the soft pillows and a small sigh fell from her lips, "Keep going."

Maybe this was what she needed. After all, she had had a busy day at the state house with the never-ending pile of paper work, not to mention the unhealthy consumption of boiled eggs that had left her in a sour mood.

Who craves that anyway?

A small fart escaped her, and her pale skin flushed with embarrassment.

Luckily, Adrien didn't seem to mind; he was already used to it from the get-go, and that seemed to ease her raging anxiety.

It had been a while since she last felt her husband, even though that was about 18 hours prior, minus the quickie they had when he visited the state house earlier that day.

Then again, the man wasn't complaining and had made it his sole duty to leave her thoroughly satiated.

And that was also on tonight's mission.

Drowned in her ecstasy, she couldn't help but moan as Adrien's lips caressed her neck, leaving soft kisses and tender love bites in his wake.

"A-Adrien..." She called out softly.

Chloé couldn't understand it, but the dark gnawing in the pit of her stomach seemed to aggravate every waking second as her husband's hands roamed over her delicate body.

Sensing the shift in the air, he paused his ministrations and glanced up at her, worry etched in his soft green irises.

"What's wrong?" Although close, his hoarse voice seemed far away... distant.

"Chloé..." He called once more, his hands rubbing her arms gently.

Her lips quivered, her eyes brimmed wide with unshed tears as she held his gaze.

She shivered in his embrace, and he furrowed his brows. They were having a good time together. Did he do something wrong, or was it something he said?

As his mind raced with uncertainty, a small sob fell from her lips, and that was when he felt it, the unmistakable sensation of liquid pooling beneath him. He thought it was his imagination toying with his mind, but the blood-curdling scream that erupted from her now chapped lips made him realize this was far from a dream.

They were reliving another nightmare.

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