Chapter 99 Blonde
RORY POV
We barely made it inside.
Alexander had me in his arms before we’d cleared the foyer, he lifted me bridal style like I weighed nothing, already moving toward the stairs, not even glancing at the guards standing at their posts as we passed them. I buried my face in his neck and didn’t look at them either.
He kicked the bedroom door open and placed me on the bed.
I didn’t waste time. I started pulling at the strings of my chiffon top immediately, sliding it off my shoulders, letting it fall. Alexander was already undressing too, moving with that unhurried certainty he brought to everything, his eyes on me the entire time as I reached back and unhooked my bra. The cool air hit my skin the moment it fell away, hardening my nipples instantly under the weight of his stare. I slid my panties down and stepped out of them and stood there and let him look.
My breath hitched when his boxers came off.
I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing his dick. It’s so long and thick and deeply veined and I could swear it keeps getting bigger the longer I look at it. Some part of my brain still does the math every single time and comes up slightly alarmed.
“Rest your back on the pillow,” Alexander said.
I did as he said and settled back.
He moved toward me and in seconds he was above me, his weight bracketing mine, the heat of him rising up along my whole body. My breath caught. This was different already — I could feel it. Every other time we’d been tangled up together it had been from behind, or urgent, or driven by something with an edge to it. This was the first time we were face to face. Properly. Nowhere to look but at each other.
His hands traced my face carefully, so carefully, like he was worried he’d damage something if he pressed too hard. I could feel the heat of his dick against my thigh, heavy and present.
“I’m going to fuck you slow and tender,” he murmured against my ear.
The word tender sounded foreign coming from him. Alexander Miller was many things, ruthless, possessive, brilliant-but he was rarely gentle. The shift in his tone made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with fear. Fear of how much I was starting to need this.
He didn’t move for a moment after that.
He just looked at me. His eyes on mine, studying, reading, moving across my face the way they did when he was working something out. The moment stretched and the intimacy of it became almost unbearable, being seen this clearly, this close, with nowhere to redirect it. I looked away. Dropped my eyes to my own chest.
He followed my movement. “Suck my breasts,” I whispered.
He obeyed, lowering his head and latching onto my nipple. He sucked it deep into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. I held his head closer, pushing more of my breast into his mouth. My back arched higher when he nibbled on the tip and sucked harder. He switched sides, giving my other breast the same hungry attention. By the time he was done, I was already a moaning, dripping mess.
“I fucking love your tits,” he growled, voice thick with lust. “They’re so soft and bouncy. If I hadn’t promised to be tender, I would have fucked them instead.” He gave my nipple one last long lick.
His filthy words sent a sharp zap straight to my pussy, making me clench my thighs.
His knee nudged my legs apart wider, spreading me open for him. He grabbed his thick cock and rubbed the head along my soaked slit before sliding inside my already dripping pussy. I winced at the stretch, my walls fluttering around his girth. He stilled for a moment, letting me adjust to his size, then started stroking into me with slow, deep, tender thrusts I had never experienced from him before.
His cock was hitting places I never thought were possible with these long, deliberate strokes. He braced himself on one hand while the other caressed my soft stomach, my breasts, my neck, and my face — like he was worshipping every inch of me.
His eyes never left mine. He kept looking at me with so much raw admiration that my pussy clenched hard around him. A genuine smile tugged at his lips as he drove deeper inside me. I felt like crying, not from pain, but from the way he was looking at me. Like he truly saw me.
I shut my eyes, praying these feelings he brought out in me would never end.
“Open your eyes, Aurora. Don’t hide from me, baby,” he commanded softly.
I peeled my eyes open slowly and watched him take me. He leaned down and crashed his lips on mine, kissing me deeply, his tongue pushing into my mouth like he owned it.
I found myself strangling his cock as my orgasm built fast. I ground against his dick desperately. He smacked my ass lightly.
“I want to cum, Alexander,” I moaned helplessly as he shoved deeper, filling me like never before. I became a complete mess. His pace increased slightly, his muscles tightening around me as he fucked me with controlled power.
“Are you on birth control?” He asked suddenly, his voice strained.
I shook my head. I didn’t even know how to explain that I’d never used one before.
“I didn’t think about it… since you always pulled out,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to pull out right now. All I want to do is fill up my wife’s pussy with my cum. Is that okay with you?”
"Yes please." I nodded eagerly. I was too far gone to think clearly. I wanted him. All of him. I could take the pills later.
With a deep, guttural groan he buried himself to the hilt and came hard inside me, flooding my pussy with thick, hot ropes of his cum. He kept thrusting slowly, pushing every drop deeper as my walls milked him.
As he stared down at me, for a moment neither of us said anything. Just the sound of our heavy breathing filled the air.
Finally, Alexander rolled to his side, but he kept his arm draped over me.
"Would you like to change your hair back to your original color?"
The question hit me like a bucket of ice water.
My heart skipped a beat. He was asking if I wanted to go back to being a blonde-the color I was before he forced the brunette dye on me.
"Why?" | whispered, my voice barely audible.
He looked at me cautiously, his expression unreadable. "I just thought you might want to.
You know... be yourself. Be Rory."
My chest tightened. He was giving me an out.
He was acknowledging that I wasn't her. He was trying to see me.
But the fear was stronger than the desire for the truth. If I went back to being blonde, would the spell break? If I didn't look like Anastasia anymore, would he still look at me with that same adoration? Or would he realize I was just a girl he'd picked up from a tragedy?
I shook my head. "No," I said softly.
His brows furrowed. "No? Why?"
"Nothing. I just... I think I'm used to being a brunette now. I like it."
That was a lie.
That wasn’t even close to the truth. The truth was that I was scared. I was terrified that the smallest change, going back to myself, looking less like her, might shift something in him that I wasn’t ready to lose. Anastasia was his deepest connection. His longest grief. And whatever thread of him had started finding its way to me had been built in this body with this hair and I was not ready to test how much of it was really for me and how much of it still belonged to her.
I didn’t want to risk it.
I would keep the hair. I would keep the lie. As long as it meant he stayed.
(Poor Rory, she's scared.)
Two chapters today😍. Thanks to everyone reading this book and supporting me. I really appreciate.)