✔️ ILLICIT DESIRES | 18 +

Chapter 8

RITA

A Flower to Deflower.

That's why Nicolai had traveled all the way from Russia — to pluck me for himself. To deflower me. The wedding is over, and now it's his time to claim what he sees as his right.

He doesn't have a home in Mexico yet. The sanguine in my system slowly fades away, and as the effects of alcohol subside, I feel much more sober as we step into my room.

He had wanted to stay in a hotel after the ceremony, but my father insisted he remain here, just for one night, before we fly to Russia tomorrow.

This room, my little garden, my life — the only place where I feel peace. Now, he wants to deflower me in my room. Before my plants.

Unfortunately, I cannot gift him the kiss of death right after the wedding. Otherwise, I'd be the prime suspect. I have to endure him for a little longer before I let Mother Nature consume him six feet under the ground.

But I won't let him taint me in my room. This room is my only solace, engulfing me in comfort. I turn to him, locking eyes, and I see the menace. But my mind opines, I don't back off from the plan to kick him out.

Yet, I take a step back as he gazes at me, ready to devour me against my will. But before he can advance toward me, my voice cuts through the still air. "Bolt out of my room!"

The remnants of whiskey still coursing through my system have turned all my senses upside down, leaving raw defiance behind.

"What did you just say?" he asks, his voice jagged with madness, having had enough of my rebellious attitude. His eyes gleam darkly, like his intentions.

"I said," I snarl, my finger shooting toward the door, showing him the way out of my comfort zone, "get your rotten peach out of my room. Bolt away!"

A twisted laugh erupts from him as he steps closer, the tension lingering in the air feeling suffocating. Before I can retreat, his hand flies out, striking me hard enough to send me to the ground.

"Ah!" I gasp, my head throbbing. Mother Nature, help me! His fingers seize my hair, yanking me toward the bed. I try to weigh down and kick my legs in defiance, but he manages to hurl me onto the bed.

"No! Get off me!" I scream as anxiety settles in every fiber of my being. But he forces me down with his weight, trapping me under him.

"I can't. I am a man true to my word," he hums, his voice low, carrying nothing but hazard. "I promised you a grand gift tonight." With a vigorous force I cannot fend off, he tears the fabric of my dress, stripping me bare.

"I don't want it anymore! I am not in the mood for jokes of nature," I mutter as he gives me a pointed look, not smart enough to decipher my words. "Into small manhoods..." I chuckle in his face, like a fool, only making my situation more dire.

"Oh, we'll see if you're still laughing when I'm done, and if it feels small..." he sneers, flipping me over as his hands rip at the back of my dress.

Desperation ignites within me, my eyes darting around to find a hard object to fight him off and smash his head. I whimper; I don't want to sacrifice my plant on the nightstand.

Relief floods through me as my hand closes around the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. It feels solid and cold. With all my strength, I smash the bottle against his face.

"Not before I crack your skull," I mutter, hurling the bottle at his head. The sound of his painful groan rings with such satisfaction to my ears.

I take schadenfreude in his pain as my hand grabs soil from the plant on my nightstand, ready to dirty his eyes. But before I can do so, he lashes out, slapping me hard. The impact makes my head throb, and I lose the soil in my hands.