*𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜*
Elowyn
They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. No truer words have ever been spoken. One night, after sneaking out of a dinner party, I witness something...
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The way Elowyn is looking at me right now, with blown pupils nearly swallowing those honey colored irises, is going to cause me to combust.
She had felt so good and tasted even better. All soft whimpers and soft skin. I could drink her moans down with a splash of vodka, get drunk on them. I wanted to feel how tight she was, had wanted to slip a finger inside of her, but I didn't want to scare her. That fucking three fingered prick that assaulted her ruined that for her. But I was content with just rubbing her swollen clit, and listening to her whimper at my touch.
My cock is throbbing, my pants squeezing me uncomfortably. I want nothing more than to press her back up against that bookshelf and fuck her senseless, but that's madness. She's a virgin. My sacrificial lamb for the taking and when I do enter her, I want her writhing beneath me, chanting my name like a fucking prayer. Not in some ancient office against a bunch of dusty old books.
She blinks a few times, as though allowing the room to come back into focus as I peel my body from hers. I reach down to right her underwear, fixing them back over her soaked cunt. She flinches when my fingertips brush her skin. I immediately look up, thinking I will find fear lingering in her eyes, but I only find her eyelids fluttering. I smirk, reveling in the fact that my touch does in fact have an effect on her no matter how hard she tries to fight it.
I pull her dress back down her waist, struggling to get the skin tight material over the width of her hips.
That fucking dress.
She wore it with the intent of riling me up and fuck if it didn't work. It makes her look older. Like a woman that knew how to wield her body as a weapon. Entrancing and powerful enough to bring a man to his knees. If I hadn't caught on to her tactics as soon as I had, I'd be on my fucking knees for her right now.
"I have something for you," I say, bursting the silence that we had previously been enveloped in. I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket and pull out the red velvet box that had been burning a hole in my side all night. I should have given it to her sooner, maybe then she wouldn't have danced with that prick.
She eyes me curiously as I present the box to her. Inside is a silver plated, marquise cut diamond ring. I had never envisioned myself shopping around for an engagement ring. Walking into the jewelers was like walking into an alternate realty, one where my bride was compliant and wildly in love with me. El proved to be compliant a few moments ago with my hand down her panties, but she was no where near being wildly in love with me.
But for a single brief moment, with me holding the box in front of her and watching her surprise and awe over the ring, the thought of her having feelings for me doesn't sound so far fetched.
