You Are Mine To Desecrate

Chapter 12: I need her

Alexander POV

It feels like 5 o'clock in the evening but it's 11 P.M. As f****d as it was after dealing with human parts, I'm in the mood for a hot shower to clean off dead Bruno's scent from my body.

The drive back to my penthouse in City A was long and silent. My hands were steady on the wheel, but my mind wasn't on Marco or the trafficking anymore. It was on her. Ava. The little girl from high school has grown up to be such a beautiful and strong woman. I didn't know she would become this independent.

The gates of the penthouse closed behind me. This place was my safe haven. It was a place I came to think and strategize.

Inside, the air was cool and faintly scented with leather and smoke. The only light that came was from the dying fire in the sitting room, casting the walls in flickers.

I walked past rows of glass and steel, the polished floors echoed with my steps. This place has always been perfect. Like a mausoleum for the living.

In the main room, I stopped before the tall windows. Rain slid down the glass in crooked lines, the city's lights bleeding through them in muted gold.

In the bathroom, I stood under the shower making sure all traces of my darkness this night were cleaned off. The blood. The sweat, everything. I watched them drain away before thinking of her.

Candlelight in her hair, her eyes that were bright even in exhaustion. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn't watching.

My jaw tightened. I raised my head up , letting the water from the shower slurp down my face, down to my abs. If only it could help me wash the image of those tempting lips off my mind. I remembered the heat I felt from her last night, the inch of space I hadn't closed. My demons had pulled me back. Demons that remembered every innocent I'd dragged into my orbit and destroyed. I always told myself it was mercy. But mercy felt like a lie when I wanted her this much.

I looked down at my now standing c**k which seems to be pleading for attention, and f**k me, I saw her there, kneeling down with her bright eyes looking up at me. My c**k hardened. I wanted those tempting lips around my c**k. I wanted her to suck me there with that hot mouth.

I know it was just my imagination but I didn't care. I imagined her hands around my c**k, feeling it, touching my crown. It became harder at my dirty thoughts that the pain coiled more fiercely and urgently inside me. I need to release it badly.

Slowly, my hands went to it, dragging back and forth. Last night as she ate, when her lips parted around the fork I imagined right there and then if only my c**k was that f*****g fork. Gods, who would have thought that I —Alexander Thompson—would've gotten jealous over a damn fork. I'd watched her and thought of nothing but how her mouth would feel under mine, under it.

Shit! I rubbed harder, gaining speed and momentum. I can't stop picturing her. Her face, her smile. Her voice when she called me shameless. The warmth of her breath against my face. The flicker of hurt she'd tried to hide when I pulled away last night.

The more I recalled it,the faster I go. I've f****d a thousand women and I will confess this. I've always pictured her face while I f****d them. I was never satisfied.

My grip tightens, sliding up and down like I'm a desperate pervert.

Groans rumbled from deep in my chest, raw and guttural. I was dripping with hunger. The hunger of want and need. I needed her, wanted to know how satisfying it would feel when I f****d her mouth and her p***y. I continue jerking harder, my hands going up and down with a ruthless rhythm.

How will those tiny hands of hers feel when doing this to me? I'm so f*****g hungry. I let out a groan that shakes the silence in the bathroom.

“Harder…shit!” I groan.

I ache to be inside her every f*****g night. I ache to feel her tight clamp around me, to hear her desperate gasps. I want to ruin her, every f*****g part of her.

My hips jerk involuntarily, matching the pace of my hands. The pulse in my c**k throbs violently.

I cursed under my breath. My other hand raked my hair, my fingers cutting deeply into my scalp. I close my eyes,trying to will her presence into the bathroom. Those hands sliding over my skin, her lips tracing fire down my neck. s**t, I'm going nuts.

I'm almost there, the edge ripping closer.

—

In my study, I stopped before the tall windows looking out but my mind wasn't on the city lights or the empty estate.

I could almost feel the ghost of her sitting here, legs crossed, head tilted as she bantered words with me. Those sarcastic remarks she gave me always made my days worth living.

I poured a drink, the crystal glass cool against my fingers. The burn of the liquor did nothing to drown the image of her.

She was light. I was everything that snuffed light out. She doesn't belong anywhere near this world—my world—of blood and darkness and remains of bodies in chairs.

But I have no choice. If Marco's network tied back into the upper circles I suspected, Ava's position could get me closer than any knife could. And marriage...marriage would put her right where I needed her.

The thought twisted something in my chest. This was just a strategy. Nothing more.

I finished the drink in one swallow, the decision felt like steel settling in my gut.