Chapter 58 Fifty Eight
OWEN WINTERS
I'm dying.
No — I'm dead.
Pretty much dead inside.
I sat on the couch, my fingers clutched tightly around my coffee cup, the hotness of the coffee burning through my skin, but I couldn't care less. The sound from the TV vibrated through the room, but not too loud for Amy to hear.
The weather was cold, so Amy lay in bed covered in blankets, and not too far away, maybe… just maybe, a branch had fallen on the road due to the heavy rain that helped deepen my gloom. Well this was a new day, and happiness seemed bleak on my side. I stared blankly at the screen, as people talked and moved until my coffee fell from my hand and shattered on the floor.
Shit!
A glass had pierced into my toe leaving a small cut, and the steaming liquid splashed onto my feet burning through my skin.
“Merde!” I cursed wincing at the burning on my skin. I needed to clean up before it caused further injury.
I stood to leave, carefully avoiding the shattered pieces of glass and the already spilled coffee. But halfway through the sitting room, the news reporter's voice caught my attention, and all the thoughts about cleaning up ran to the back room of my mind.
INTERVIEW WITH THE LEGITIMATE HEIR TO THE HOUSE OF THE WINTERS!
With my legs glued to the floor, I watched with intensity at the man in front of the screen, he had a black fedora on which did well to hide his looks and his suit jacket wasn't my style. Why should it be? The fucker was my rival.
But not to lie, he looked good for a Winter although I worked harder for it than he did.
The news reporter, Margaret Luke, smiled to the camera before speaking, “Mr Winters just revealed that he had a son, which is you standing here, how did you feel staying in hiding and letting his adopted son, Owen Winters stay in the spotlight?”
Shine?
I scoffed, irritation written all over my face, I finally got hold of myself and sat, eyes still fixed on the colourful screen except it wasn't so colourful with the fact that goddamned man stood there.
I waited for him to speak and he did.
“I don't blame Owen Winters, he never knew about me, in fact my father did everything wrong not to inform him about me, and yes, he expected too much.”
I bit my lower lip subconsciously until it drew blood. The metallic taste felt rather pleasing than my current situation.
“What about the struggle for power? The adopted son of the Winters, for all we know, would never go down without a fight,” she said, the fake, but professional smile still plastered on her face. My eyes twitched but didn't water, this was the part I expected to hear.
“Then a fight it is. The Winters aren't cowar…” I switched off the TV withholding the raging storm inside of me that threatened to consume my entirety. I hissed and tossed the remote control somewhere before standing, the glass and spilled coffee back to my mind.
Can today get any worse?
Amy lay on the bed, her face staring up at the ceiling. She had a little bump in her tummy which looked cute.
“You've been staring at that ceiling for almost an hour now, pumpkin,” I commented, my lips twitching wanting to break into a genuine smile. “Well, you've been staring at me this whole time, Mr Winters,” she scoffed and turned to face me. I reached out to her and rubbed the little bump. She chuckled.
“You're beautiful so why wouldn't I stare at you?” I retorted, my voice amusingly soft.
“What's beautiful about me?” She asked and I knew she was teasing me. Amy heard the news, but didn't want me to dwell on it.
Sweet.
“Everything.” I inched closer to her combing her hair with my fingers. It felt soft and less tangled like mine. “Like what?”
I smirked. “I like your eyes-”
I kissed her eyes, and she giggled. “Your nose…” kiss.
“Your fucking lips…” kiss.
My hands swept through her body, our thighs jammed in rhythm as I massaged hers. She gasped, her lips curling into a smile against my touch — inviting, and not resisting. “Yes, pumpkin, your body drives me crazy,” I muttered softly , feeling the swollen nature of her breast. Her nipples were hard so I played with it.
“Just that?” she moaned as our eyes were locked with each other— frosty and brown.
“No, mon cœur, I love your soft moans, they sound just like music to my ears.” I pulled down her gown, before sucking on her breast.
“Fuck. Off,” she muttered which made me grin. “Never.”
My tongue trailed down from her breast down to her clit. I let it travel into her exploring every nook and damn cranny of it as short gasps escaped her lips.
“Did I mention how easy it is for you, my princess, to drive me crazy?” She shook her head, her eyes holding mine.
“Then I'll say it-” I bent to her ears and whispered those sweet words she wanted to hear, those words of assurance.
“You drive me crazy and you make me want to do unexplainable things.”
“Unexplainable things like what?” She asked and I sensed her curiosity from her eyes.
“Oh you don't want to know. Not yet though,” I muttered and crept back to what I was doing — making her feel good.
“I know about that goddamned man, and I know you're depressed…”
“I'm not depressed sweetheart,” I corrected, inserting my dick into her, she moaned, and lifted her head slightly in ecstasy. I thrusted in and out of her, the turbulence in my heart calming down. I felt warmer.
“You understand what I'm saying, young man. I want you to trust me, that fucker isn't going to take what we worked for. Legit or not,” she said without stuttering and anyone could tell she meant it. I nodded, my quick and short jab into her made her look away.
“You know what?”
“What?” I asked in French.
Amy looked into my eyes, the glint held deviousness, sexy but cruel — something l liked.
She pushed me to the bed, swiftly landing on me and in the perfect position. “I like taking the lead, dick head.”
I grinned.