Chapter 32 Chapter 32

Chapter 32 Chapter 32

~BRIENNE VONBERG~

Shame was an odd and foreign feeling to me. But it quickly became like my second skin, like a shadow that followed me around. And this was all because I turned out to be a pathetic liar. Okay... maybe I wasn't as strong as I claimed to be. Maybe Allister did have more effect on me than I believed he did.

All I wanted to do was hate myself after he left me in that position on the kitchen counter—hands cuffed behind my back, shirt buttons undone, and my boobs exposed, nipples still throbbing from the heat of his mouth. I'd relieved myself earlier, fingers slick between my thighs, to make sure his touch wouldn't have any effect on me. But the moment his hands gripped me, I felt like a firework igniting, sparks racing from my core outward. I couldn't stop the moans ripping from my throat, raw and desperate, as the ache in my pussy swelled, hot and insistent, until it consumed me. I wanted him to fuck me—hard and unrelenting, filling the void he'd carved out.

But he left me just at my peak, my body trembling on the edge, and despite the shame burning through me because I'd proved him right, that pulsing need never faded. All night long, I ached for him to come back, to thrust deep and shatter me completely.

Fuck! What was wrong with me?

Allister was my enemy. The man I wanted to destroy, ruin, and kill, yet it seemed like he was the one ruining me, thread by filthy thread.

I'd touched myself again later, fingers plunging into my soaked pussy to chase away the fire he'd started, but the orgasm that crashed over me was hollow, leaving me emptier than before. It was nothing compared to the wet swirl of his tongue tracing circles around my breasts, the sharp graze of his teeth on my hardened nipple, or the grind of his thick erection pressing against my core, promising the stretch and fullness I craved.

It was nothing at all, and I couldn't help but imagine how it would feel if he pinned me down and buried his cock deep inside me, pounding until I screamed his name. All night, I thought of it against my will, my body twisting in the sheets. All night, his face haunted the walls of my mind—those eyes, that smirk, the way he'd taste on my lips.

Fuck!

I must be insane. That was the only logical explanation as to why I craved my enemy this way, my body and soul betraying me in the heat of the night. But madness could be useful if handled correctly. I wasn't going to let anything especially desire rule me.

Focus had always been my weapon, and I reached for it now, wrapping it around myself like armor. Whatever this pull toward Allister was, it would not derail me.

It would not make me weak.

The penthouse was unnervingly quiet when I stepped out that morning. I remained in the sitting room for quite a while. Not without purpose though. The bullet wound in my thigh still hurt, but I didn’t want to stay at his penthouse any longer. I wanted to leave. But I couldn't do that because my phone's been missing. So, I wanted to ask him if he had it.

But after waiting for more than three hours, there was still no sign of Allister. I eventually asked his maid, the only other person in the penthouse with me, and she told me he had already left.

Pretty early, I thought. Was he avoiding me after the previous evening? He might have won the silly little game about having an effect on me, but I knew I had one on him too.

His maid lingered, a tablet in her hand, her attention fixed on whatever she was monitoring. She acknowledged me briefly, then returned to her task, unbothered by my presence.

I said nothing as I moved past her, my gaze already fixed ahead on what I planned to do. If Allister wasn't home, then I could wander around and perharps into his private quarters.

His door stood at the end of the hallway. I hesitated at first as the memory of last night pressed at the edges of my mind, uninvited. The way his hands felt. The way my body betrayed me so easily at his touch.

I pushed the door open anyway. I wasn't going to back down.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn just enough to let filtered light spill across the space. His bed appeared untouched, sheets smooth, everything already arranged by his maid no doubt.

But the moment I stepped inside, I felt him. Not physically though. Just the ghost of his presence lingering in the air. His scent wrapping around me and filling my lungs involuntarily.

My body reacted. The heat and memory from the previous evening stirring again. That same ache coiled low at my core, sharp and unwelcome.

“Pathetic.” I muttered under my breath, directed at myself for feeling that way.

I wasn’t here for this.

I moved deeper into the room, my fingers trailing lightly over surfaces, not out of curiosity, but assessment. I crouched by the desk, pulling open the first drawer.

Nothing.

The second....

Still nothing.

The third....

My fingers stilled as I touched something finally. My lips curled as I picked up a familiar tiny bottle with a name inscribed on it.

Seraphine Ash.