Page 24 of Storm

At his ragged tone, I almost fall, desperate to feel my commander come apart for me. Crazed at the idea of wanting such a forbidden thing from the man who is my warden. But I hold on, taking a deep inhale of heady spice before asking, “Please, sir. I need your cum.” We both pause. “Fill me.”

Shame. Embarrassment. Those would be the emotions of a normal person. Instead, it only makes me spark brighter for him. Nothing too dirty or depraved for my commander. The babies I shouldn’t want from him, the secret that will have me orgasming all over his cock.

“Since you asked so nicely, wife.” That name—wife—hits all the insatiable corners of my mind, and my husband begins his pistoning anew, wedging his hand between us to tease my clit. All it takes is two swipes, and I’m done for, completely severing underneath him in a pile of rubble, destined to become carpet lint.

My contracting pussy walls grip on tightly to the beast above me. In seconds, he’s spilling into me, the warmth of him completely filling me up. The high I get from him and him alone has me floating right to the Fairy Lands.

Until he leans his forehead on mine, saying three words I despise. “For the Astral.” He’s said it before. Not constantly. Enough for me to know where I stand and who I am to him. And I come crashing back down to our oversized closet, surrounded by grey, white, and black fabrics. I cringe. Halo’s bounty is the last thing I want. Soon, Melek will know his prayers have once again been answered. Who knows how long for this time.

CHAPTER 8

HOLLOW COMMANDER OVERLORDS BE DAMNED

Brown eyes—unending.

And if you should ever forget.

Words spinning on a loop.

Heaviness on my chest.

Lungs restricted.

Waking with a start, I gasp, nails digging into my breast, sucking in lungfuls of air. Another nightmare. Running water alerts me to the fact that I’m alone in the bedroom. I didn’t have to look to know that. His presence is characteristically on point, devouring.

This nightmare was no different from all the others over the last twelve years. I have procured a running loop of lovely soul-churning dreams that inevitably cause me distress. Nix on the X, his flesh fastened against his bones. His head downcast, sparing any passers-by any pity. Steadfast to the end, protecting others when it would cost him his life.

Then there’s Mam. Fathoming what happened to her after Nix and I left is beyond measure. I can’t go there. I can barely touch Nix. I always wake in cold sweats, and this morning is no different. Grief, I have learnt, is not something you overcome, nor does it get better over time. Quite the opposite. It festers, always surfacing at the most inconvenient of times. And it always shows itself in the smallest of ways—a smell, a touch, a colour that triggers the whirring of my mind into hyperdrive. It’s the not knowing that does me in. But I also don’t want to know because they both suffered. Everyone in the factories suffers, and I have to take comfort in neither of them suffering any longer.

An aura falls over me, followed by a large dip in the mattress. After our first round last night, Melek took me to the shower for rounds two and three, and then he finally brought me to bed when I could barely keep my eyes open. I seriously don’t know where he gets the stamina, but he’s also not pregnant.

“Alora.” His voice wraps me up in a sizzling heat I don’t feel like letting go of this morning. My muscles are sore from overuse. Rest is all I want. I need my dreams to cease for one night. Just one. I think I’m owed that much. My eyelids flutter closed, and I sink further into my pillow, hoping that this might be the time…

“Alora, wake up, or I’ll wake you up.”

“Argh,” I grumble, thrashing in the blankets electrocuted by his brash demeanour. This man truly sees a side of me no one has ever been privy to. It’s scary that he chose to keep me around. “Chill out, old man,” I say into the side of the pillow, so it’s muffled. He still picks up on my insolence and pulls back the covers, giving my naked bottom a loud whack.

Thoroughly awake, I flop around to face the dressed pain in my ass, and seethe. “What do you need, Lord Commander?”

With my whole body on show for him, Melek takes his fill as he adjusts his cock, shaking his head. “You missed your period this month. Take the pregnancy test.” Right. The control freak would know when my period is. Before Sunny, it was highly irregular. After, it started coming monthly like clockwork. Pushing up to a seated position, I swipe the pregnancy test from his fingers. He likes to keep some on hand to surprise me. It’s about as romantic as he gets.

“Fine.” There I go again, acting like a hormone-controlled teenager when I’m in his presence, instead of the thirty-one-year-old woman I am.

I shuffle my naked ass into the black marble bathroom, with his and hers vanity, spa tub and double-headed shower. Melek’s towering form follows behind. At this moment, I’m thankful for the internal climate control we have at home, which means my tits aren’t freezing off as I plonk myself unceremoniously on the toilet and place the stick under me.

This would’ve never happened if I was back at the factory. No climate control. No pregnancy sticks. No fucking toilets.

I hate to admit it, but part of the reason I’ve stayed so long within these four walls, surrounded by my enemies, is because I never understood what I was missing until I had it. And boy, did Melek give me everything. He introduced me to a world I could only ever imagine as a nineteen-year-old. As stubborn as I was, I revelled in the new clothing on my back, the cold drinking water, three square meals a day and showering whenever I wanted.

And climate control.

Sighing, I sink my chin into my free hand. I’ve truly experienced the best and the worst life has to offer.

Melek stoically watches on, his forearms crossed, hair wet and dripping on his dress shirt, ready for another day of ruling the scum of the earth. I’ve given up on asking him to leave. It’s been over a decade of this. He has to watch me pee on the stick. It’s the only way for him to be sure.

We enter a religious meeting of minds. His grey gaze, hard and impenetrable. Me, a constantly enraged furnace waiting to burst anytime he’s near. Eyeing him down reminds me of the first time…

“I told you I’m not going to touch you unless you ask for it.” The tendons in his neck throb. He observes me down the long dining table, regarding his target. Three tapered candles separate us, flickering in our dissonance.