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Chapter Twenty-Three: Deal
Undercover Ostrich.Hello, feel free to leave interactive comments or gems to share your thoughts and support the work. Thank you for reading.
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Four: Poor Mr Skippy
The Lycan's Hotel room was fancier than mine, go figure, but I hardly had enough time to gawk at it or even sip the fancy complimentary champagne."Strip."I want to protest at the unfairness of his opening words, but I do as he says, only slowly.I tug each strap with a teasing slowness from each shoulder before reaching for the zipper on my side; he does not protest, merely watches me.His silver eyes darken sinisterly as the dress pools to my feet, leaving me only in jewellery, heels and panties, everything he bought for me."Alba.""Yes,"I answer breathily as his hand strokes the gem on my chest.The whole room holds his scent, yet there is clarity in my haze, unlike the first time his mere presence induced it— as if it is slowly stabilising.I don’t want its stabilisation because what excuse will I use to feel this way in his presence? To give into my desire for him?There is a chill in the room from the air conditioning, or perhaps it is his gaze that erupts goosebumps from my
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Five: Might Just
“You can’t anymore?” Marko repeats my words as he slides from the mattress to stand and fiddle with the remaining toys as if prepping to use them. “But your body can react to others; that is why you kissed another man, isn’t it?” In the dream, he talked of running; it is different, yet some elements are the same. “Isn’t it only right for me to desensitise your lewd body? Let’s see, how many men have excited you beside me?’ I say nothing, not out of my will, but I cannot bring any words to my lips because I am wholly occupied with the spasms still firing periodically inside me. “Not going to answer? Fine Then maybe I can use a different criterion. Let’s see, you ran away from the castle, from your guardian—from me.” The intensity of his tone keeps rising as if he is rediscovering his anger, but his words’ familiarity is what grabs my attention. “Wait, wait…” I plead, but it comes off as a whisper. Don’t say it; please don’t- “For eighteen ho-” “One person.” I yell to halt h
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Six: Remarkably Clear
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Seven: Gotcha!
The brightness of the morning burns my eyes as I struggle to open my heavy lids; I anticipate waking alone, so the warmth beside me is startling."Were...were you watching me?"The smile on his face is sinfully wicked, yet it induces nothing but worries in me.“I will not go another round; I feel sorer than when Gamma Brielle makes me work out!”“Fine, I can wait.”A frown knits my brows at his response.‘I can wait?’Why would he say that? Is it not better if we avoid discussion of our sins and hope our silence buries them?Is it not better if we behave like animals at night and regain our dignity during the day?Our mess requires no planning; what we are should never be scheduled.So why would he utter the word ‘wait’ to me?Without a word in response to his ‘wait’, I slide from the bed; even though my knees wobble at my feet’s contact with the ground, I manage to stand and tiptoe around the mess we made last night in search of clothes.“I think we should talk, Alba. Define this a l
Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Eight: How Else
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Twenty-Nine: Animals in the Woods
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Thirty: Fantastic
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Bound to my Wicked Stepbrother Chapter Thirty-One: Embodiment
I should leave now, the cues are enough for even the dumbest person to realise the invitation was not a friendly one, but I take a step inside; who needs cloaked enemies anyway. Plus, it thrills me that she is wary enough of me to resort to petty tricks. After barely twelve steps in, the call of my name halts me. “Priestess Alba!!” The voice is far too cheerful for me; nonetheless, I halt. “Do you remember me?” An outrageously beautiful woman with hair the shade of honey and eyes the shade of brightly polished emeralds asks. She smells of flowers and warmth, an odd mix that reminds me of sunflowers; rudely enough, her smile brightens her exaggeratedly perfect features to such an intimidating extent. Her beauty must have increased tenfold since graduation from the academy, for I would remember one as beautiful as she to a keener degree. “Magnolia Grace, Alpha Clive’s daughter, am I correct?” A shadow falters her smile slightly. “That is correct; an honour for the priestess to
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