54. Her Personal Throne

54. Her Personal Throne
DAY THREE

“Why?” Emara demands from me, “Why is it that only you can touch me and I can’t?” 

Woah.. When did she get so bold?

I reach for her wine glass, correction- my wine, and take it from her hand as if it is having a bad influence on her.

“If you want minimal touching, then you shouldn’t touch me as well.” She keeps on pushing my buttons, “Why so much partiality?” 

“It’s because..” I snap in irritation, before gulping a few sips of the finesse wine that I was saving for good times.

“You are here for my pleasure, not your own.” The pleasure of watching her regret choosing Ryan over me.

I built everything with my hard work that he was blessed with at birth.

Money. Power. Luxury. Connections.

“What about kissing?” Emara asks me, quieter this time.

I feel a beat in my dead heart as she reminds me of something I lost to.

Our kiss. The one we shared at the party. 

The one I should have never done, because it has undone me in every worse way possible.

That kiss cracked open something in me, I didn’t know existed. For the first time, I saw my life unfold in front of me.. A stable life, a secure job, a home.. A wife. Her.

That vision looked so beautiful in my mind that I started chasing the hallucination and her mindlessly, believing she was the one.

Only to destroy myself in the process.

I ruined everything I was in the name of something I could never have.

“Why won’t you kiss me?” Emara asserts, looking at me, “For your own pleasure.”

How casually she is urging me to kiss her again and fall back into the trap of feelings, when she clearly feels nothing for me.

And I hate it.

I hate how easily she moved on, how the world kept spinning for her, while mine just.. Stopped.

I watched her kiss him, fall for him, while I was just a guy in the background. The one she once kissed at a party, and foolishly believed.. It meant something to her too.

I tip the wine glass back, draining the last drop along with my sorrow, and set it down with stoic calm.

“I have always been told..” I say, diving deep into her beautiful hazel eyes, “Don’t let a fool kiss you or a kiss fool you.”

My gaze falls to her seductive lips, that brought my entire world down. I still remember how they tasted like.. Destruction.

“I already paid a heavy price in the past. So I don’t do either now.” I mutter, looking away. 

Whatever manipulation technique she is trying, it won’t work on me anymore.

I have built my walls too high for that.

“So.. You don’t kiss or make out at all?” Emara questions, grabbing the wine bottle again.

“Not since three years.” I reply, recalling that party night when our lips touched.

That was the last time I ever kissed a girl. And trusted. 

Nope! Not going down that road again.

“So you just fuck. That’s it?” She asks, sitting on me like some spoiled Duchess, drinking my wine and using me as her personal throne.

She is no more scared of me. Like a switch flipped in her, and she found poetry in the raging beast.

“How many glasses of wine did you drink?” I ask the new-brave Emara.

“Um.. One…………. Bottle.” 

WHAT!

A deep, guttural growl escapes me, “You finished an entire bottle of Château Lafite?” 

The one I was saving for my wedding night!

“Hmm.” She hums casually, non-caringly. 

“I just don’t want to be in my senses when you will be fucking me like your precious whore.” Her voice low, like a melancholy echo.

“Then I’ll add one more day to your stay.” A greedy voice comes out of me, and I snatch the glass from her. 

One day, then another, and another.

“What?” She gasps, rewarding me with a surprise look.

“If you are unconscious, then where is the fun?” I smirk, watching her finally break her seducing character.

My hands automatically curve round her waist in a protective move as she abruptly shifts on my lap, facing me. Furiously.

“I hate you.” She spit the words at me, and they rip right through my chest like a spear.

“I want to hate you. So badly. I want to fucking hate you, Mr Black.” She shouts, jabbing her finger hard into my ribs.

“But I can’t.” Then breathes out defeatedly.

“Because, I feel so bad for what I did to you unknowingly. It was never my intention to send you to jail or even hurt you. I was trying to save him and somehow your name slipped out of my mouth.”

How cruelly she is digging up my heart with a shovel, scraping it raw, while so casually admitting she destroyed my life for him.

That pathetic piece of man.. Ryan!

And even while she is sitting on my lap, feeling sorry for me, her heart still belongs to him, who never bled for her the way I did.

“And trust me, I have regretted it every single day since then, knowing that my actions destroyed an innocent life. And I still regret it. I am-I am sorry.” Emara whimpers.

My jaw tightens as I scoop another bite of rice and force it down my throat. The food tastes like cardboard, and her apology tastes even worse.

I sense an intense pain on the one side of my heart, listening to her depressing sobs, and satisfaction on the other side, hearing her cry for what she did to me.

I am truly fucked up.

“I honestly feel guilty for what I did to you. I am really sorry, Dakota. I know you didn’t deserve it and believe me, if I could change something from the past, I would go change my statement I gave to the police. Because it is killing me from inside.”

I chew faster. 

Forcing myself to gobble the rice as it won’t go down, but I keep shoving it in any way.

I just want to finish this dinner. Get away. Take those pills. Black out in silence, and forget this goddamn war happening inside me.

“Doesn’t it make you feel empty from inside?” Emara whisper, her eyes heavily locked on me.

My hands move quicker. The spoon scrapes the plate, each bite harder to swallow as I eat faster. I need this over.

Like if I just finish, I can escape.

“Having sex without any touch of love.. Without deep feelings and intimacy?” She asks pitifully, stabbing the sensitive nerve in my body, hinting me how pathetic I am.

I drain the last of the wine and set the glass on table with a thud. The room goes still, heavy with the sound of her breathing and soft pound of her heart. 

I can hear it all. Feel it all.

“Dakota.” 

My heart slams against my ribs as I feel a hand on it and my eyes snap to hers. Fuck! They look so magnetically deep that I could drown in them for hours, without needing air.

“Don’t you want to know what making love feels like?” Emara whispers, luring me into her.

No. 

Say NO!

A voice screams in my head, clawing at me from inside. My fingers clutch around the glass, itching me to throw her off me. 

I am no more in control of myself.

The bedsheet tightens around her heaving chest, rising and falling as she looks deep into my eyes, like commanding me.

“I want you to make love to me tonight.”