Page 30 of Storm

“Never say never.” He releases me, and I stumble out of his hold, gripping onto the trunk of the tree in front of me.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I would never stoop so low.” Liar.

I was already losing the fight against him. He was consuming my every waking thought. My grief hadn’t left because it had magically disappeared; it had been replaced with thoughts of him. Where Melek was when he wasn’t at home. How he licked his spoon while eating ice cream. How long and thick his hard dick became when he was strutting around our bedroom naked.

Losing myself to him this time last year was unthinkable. Now, as he stands before me, domineering, glaring at my disheveled dress, my back plastered against the gnarled bark of the tree trunk, all I want to do is let him have me. Let me have something for myself. Have some pleasure in this waking hellscape I’ve been living in. Give in to sin, to temptation.

He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, corded forearms on display, as he takes a step forward like he’s preparing for my decision before I’ve even announced it. The air between us ripples. My heart pounds in agony.

“Stop.” I let the lightness of my voice between us die, floating on the whipping breeze.

“Say it like you mean it, and I will.” Fuck. Melek moves another step closer. “Tell me what you want, wife.” His voice is low and gravelly, travelling down to the tips of my cold, bare toes.

“I—”

He’s so close now our bodies could touch if either of us wanted to, but he keeps an inch between us, his head tilted down. The grey of his eyes are unrecognisable. I swear, the mist clears for a split second, our bodies alight in a glow, the stars themselves spotlighting our destruction.

“I hate you.” This isn’t anything more than two adults meeting each other on a carnal level. Not love. Not family. Just pure sex. Nothing else. Ruination.

A wicked smirk graces his lips. “That’s good. I’m not an easy man to live with.”

“You are, in fact, the worst.” A wayward tendril of onyx hair breezes before my eyes, and he catches it, placing it behind my ear without touching my skin. Goose bumps alight along my forearms. The glint of the gold snake-circled wedding band catches my attention. The one on my finger hisses for its match.

My lungs draw in. The aroma of alluring masculine spice and his surly nature only make me need him more. My underwear is a pool of desire. Bringing a solid, exposed forearm up to the trunk next to my face, he leans further in, our noses just wisps apart.

“I am,” he agrees, his warmth and the orange cake we had for dessert washing over my face. Bark pinches my nails as my hands dig into the wood further.

“And I won’t give in.” I scowl, refusing him.

“Good. You should stay away from me. You should tell me to stop.”

If only it were that easy. Melek moves back slightly, assessing me.

“Stay away. You want me to stay away from you?!” When he goes to open his mouth, I shake my head. I have no intention of him answering that question. “How am I meant to stay away from you when you sleep with me every night, somehow know the exact whereabouts of my location at all times, and have made me your wife?” I flash him the matching gold band on my right hand.

His response is to sigh, leaning his forehead against mine. At the intimate contact, his grey hollow eyes fixed on my blue, reminding me with a surety what he is, I stiffen.

“I want you willing, wife. But I am not a good man, and I will not be gentle once we fall upon each other.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” I admit.

“What do you want?”

“To forget.” My hand goes to rest on solid abs, my long lashes flutter shut, the touch over his clothes a blister to my fingers. “To fuck,” I correct myself, finding bravery in the darkness.

“By whom, wife? Say the word, and I will pierce you on my cock.” Melek’s words are crude, but my pussy clenches, desperate for everything he’s saying, vines illuminating with ravenous desire.

“I—” It’s hard to ‌say. He’s hollow. I’m half hollow. My family is dead. Releasing the deathly grip I have tethering me to the tree behind, I stuff my fists into his shirt, bringing our mouths a breath from touching. “I want you to fuck me, husband.” I dash my lips against his. “I want you to fill me with your cum.”

No further invitation required. In a fragment of time, his plush lips are on my own, owning me. Hard fingers take my ass in hand and push me against the rigidity of Melek’s body, our lips forcing the others open, sucking on tongues and biting pillowy flesh, teeth clashing, trying to fight the other for dominance. The only reason he will win is that I want him to. I want him to overpower every sense within my body.

Make me feel.

Make me forget.

Make me scream.

Hauling me up his chiselled muscles, I barely manage to wrap my legs around his sturdy waist as he grips a hand into my hair and pulls my face back, lungs filling frantically. Melek smiles with unholy obliteration. His breaths come faster, but he’s not showing the same signs of fatigue as I am.