Chapter4 Unworthy
Elena: POV
"I want to eat something else first." His mouth curved against my throat, that predatory smile that always made my pulse spike.
His hands found my breasts through my bra, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened. I arched into his touch despite myself, hating how easily my body betrayed me.
"Julian, wait—" I gasped as his hand slid down to the button of my jeans.
"Wait?" He pulled back to look at me, eyes dark with desire. "You invited me here, Elena. Don't tell me you're going to play coy now."
"No, I just—" My breath hitched as he unzipped my jeans, his hand sliding inside. "I'm not feeling well. My stomach's been bothering me all evening."
The lie slipped out before I could stop it.
His hand stilled. For a moment, I thought he'd pull away, maybe show some concern. But instead, his eyes glinted with something darker.
"That's fine." His voice dropped lower. "We can use other things."
He pulled my jeans off completely, then guided my hand to his belt. I understood what he wanted. My fingers trembled as I unbuckled it, unzipped him, freed his hard length.
"Use your hand first," he commanded, wrapping my fingers around his cock. "Like this."
He showed me the rhythm he wanted—firm strokes from base to tip. I obeyed, watching his face as pleasure tightened his features. His head fell back, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
"Fuck, Elena," he groaned. "Your hands are so soft."
"Like this?" I whispered, twisting my wrist slightly at the head of his cock, feeling it throb in my grip.
"Yeah, just like that—shit, you're gonna make me come too fast." He smirked, reaching down to cup my breasts again, pinching my nipples through the lace. "Take off your bra. I want to see those perfect tits."
I complied, unhooking it with shaky hands. His mouth descended immediately, sucking one nipple into his hot mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded the other breast. I moaned, my core aching with need.
"God, you taste so good," he murmured against my skin, biting gently. "Always so responsive."
Then he was pushing my thighs together, positioning himself between my legs. "Keep them closed," he ordered, his thick cock sliding between my thighs. "Tight."
I squeezed my legs together as he began to thrust, his hard length gliding against my skin. The friction was intense, his cockhead brushing my clit through my underwear with each push. My thighs were long and slender—he'd always commented on them, how they looked in heels, how they felt wrapped around his waist.
Now he groaned as he moved between them, his hands gripping my hips for leverage. "So good," he muttered, his rhythm increasing. "You feel so fucking good. Squeeze harder—yeah, like that. Fuck, Elena, your thighs are killing me."
I rocked my hips slightly, meeting his thrusts, my breasts bouncing with the movement. His eyes fixed on them, dark with lust. "Touch yourself," he growled. "Play with those nipples while I fuck your thighs."
My hands went to my breasts, pinching and rolling the hard peaks as he watched hungrily. "That's it, baby. Show me how you like it."
His thrusts became erratic, his breathing harsh. I could feel him getting close, his cock pulsing between my thighs.
And in that haze of intimacy, I couldn't stop myself. I needed to hear him say it—needed to confirm what I already knew in my heart. The question that had been haunting me for hours finally broke free.
"Julian... what would you do if I got pregnant?"
His eyes snapped open. His rhythm faltered—just for a second. Then his expression hardened into something cold and cruel.
He thrust once more, hard, his release spilling hot between my thighs as he let out a guttural groan. But even as his body shuddered with pleasure, his next words cut through me like a knife.
"I would never let you get pregnant, Elena. You took the pill, didn't you?" His voice was cold, final, even as he was still catching his breath. Then his eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. "Don't even think about it. You know the rules about the pill."
He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear in a mockery of intimacy. "Because you're not worthy of carrying my child. You haven't forgotten why I married you, have you?"
The words hit like a physical blow. Ice flooded my veins, freezing the warmth that had been building. My throat closed up, tears burning behind my eyes.
'So there it was. Confirmation of what I'd feared all along. What I'd been desperately hoping wasn't true.'
'He would never accept this baby. Never accept me as the mother of his child.'
He pulled back, already reaching for tissues to clean himself. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just confirmed my worst nightmare.
---
In the bathroom, he wet a washcloth and came back to clean me with surprising gentleness. I lay there numbly, unable to meet his eyes, one hand instinctively moving to cover my still-flat stomach before I caught myself.
"Come on," he said quietly, helping me up. "Let's get you cleaned up properly."
At the sink, I washed my thighs with shaking hands. He stood behind me, our eyes meeting in the mirror. For a moment, he just stared at me, that same complex expression from earlier flickering across his face.
Then he leaned in and kissed my temple. "If only you hadn't..." He stopped, jaw tightening. His eyes held something that looked almost like regret. "If only things were different."
"They could be different," I whispered, turning to face him, desperation making me brave. "Julian, if you would just listen to me about that night—"
"You think I'd believe your bullshit?" His voice turned sharp. He stepped back, the wall slamming back up between us.
My words came out bitter. "You've already made it perfectly clear how you feel. I'm not worthy. I'm not enough. I'll never be Victoria."
His face went blank. "Goodnight, Elena."
He left without another word. I heard the front door close, the lock clicking into place.
I stood there in the bathroom, one hand pressed against my still-flat stomach, where a six-week-old life was growing—a life he'd just made clear he would never want.
'Of course he thinks that way. I was a fool to hope otherwise.'
'He can never know. Not now. Not ever.'