[N/A:For those who found Irene’s actions "strange," the next Chapters will develop her background.]
POV: Irene
I stayed a few more minutes, my cheek resting against Kaiser’s thigh. My breathing had slowed to the point where I could barely hear his. I could still feel the last shivers in my belly, that sweet warmth lingering between my thighs. He had run a hand through my hair, just with his fingertips, without insisting, and it drew an involuntary sigh from .
Then I straightened up. I smoothed my dress with the flat of my hand to chase away the false creases. The fabric had fallen back properly over my hips. I had buttoned my bodice again, one button after the other, taking care to align them. My breasts were tucked back into the corset. I quickly ran my hands through my hair to ta it, but a few strands remained damp at my temples, clinging to my skin.
"You’re leaving already?" His voice was neutral, but he had slightly raised his torso.
"I have to," I said, adjusting an earring that had slipped. "People might notice my absence for too long."
He nodded, without insisting. I leaned in, placing a light kiss on his cheek. Then I headed toward the door. I opened it silently and left the office.
I leaned against the wall for a second, eyes closed, breath still a little short. Kaiser’s scent still clung to my skin, to my hair. I took a deep breath, as if to trap it inside before I had to let it fade away.
Then I straightened up, smoothed the front of my dress one last ti. Staying longer would have been reckless. Kaiser’s manor was large, but servants talk, and I had no desire to give Frostvine a new reason to hit .
I went down the service staircase, steps light. With each step, mories rose slowly, becoming harder and harder to control...
I was fifteen when they married to Duke Frostvine. Fifteen, fuck, I was still a child and my father the viscount had signed the contract without even looking in the eyes.
"It’s for the good of the family," he had said. Frostvine was already thirty-two. He already slled of wine on the day of the ceremony.
The first years, I thought it was normal. The slaps when he ca ho drunk, the bruises I hid under long sleeves, the nights when he took without a word, without tenderness, just because I was there, at his disposal.
Then Julian was born, but it changed nothing...
Frostvine hit him too, sotis harder. Julian almost never cried. He just stared at his mother with accusing eyes.
"It’s because of you," they seed to say. "If you were stronger, if you were better, he wouldn’t do this... or if you even had the courage to run away..."
Today Julian was almost in his twenties and we had no mother-son relationship; we sotis crossed paths but only exchanged icy words.
Thirty-seven years... An entire life spent bowing my head, smiling when I was slapped, staying silent when I was broken. No real friends, no confidantes. Just impeccable dresses, receptions where I played the part of the perfect duchess, and solitary nights where I stared at the ceiling wondering if I was already dead without having noticed.
After all, my family was in decline; leaving Frostvine ant ending up on the street... In the end, I had no choice: poverty or this... Better a gilded prison than freedom with an empty belly.
And then during that ordinary diplomatic visit...
I t him.
Young, insolent, with his silver hair and those blue eyes that seed to see through masks. At first, I only sought spontaneous comfort. A shoulder to rest my head on for one evening. A warm body against mine to forget, even for an hour, the weight of Frostvine’s hands on my throat.
It was a one-night thing, I told myself it would be all.
But there was a second ti. Then a third...
Over the weeks, the months, what had started as simple physical relief had transford. I no longer ca just to forget the pain. I ca to see him.
To see his pupils dilate when I entered a room. To hear his breathing quicken when I pressed my lips to his skin. To feel his fingers clench in my hair when I took him in my mouth, slowly, conscientiously, until he completely lost control.
It had beco a need. Not love... at least not like in the novels I had read as a teenager.
Sothing rawer, more vital. Seeing him in ecstasy, jaw clenched, muscles tense, eyes half-closed in pleasure... it filled with joy. As if, during those monts, I really existed. As if I was no longer just a broken doll...
Tonight again, I had co without warning. I had asked for nothing else: to see him lose himself. I didn’t need him to save from Frostvine, even though I knew he would do it without hesitation if he learned the truth.
The blows, the insults, the nights I slept on the living room sofa to avoid the marital bed... Kaiser would end it all with a snap of his fingers if necessary.
But I had never told him anything.
Because that wasn’t what I wanted.
I didn’t want to see pity in his eyes, I didn’t want him to look at pitifully...
What I wanted was exactly what we had just done: his hands on , his mouth on mine, his hard cock against my thigh, then inside , then in my mouth.
I wanted his low growls, his murmured "Irene..." when he ca.
I wanted that look he gave when he caught his breath again, a look that said I was desirable, powerful, and indispensable.
"Maybe I’m crazy," I thought.
"Maybe I’m using him like a drug. But whatever."
I stopped for a second. The moon filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the potted plants. I placed a hand on my belly, where the heat of our bodies still lingered.
"I’ll co back. Tomorrow, the day after, in a week. As long as he looks at like that. As long as he makes feel alive."
I adjusted my cape one last ti, raised my chin, and stepped out into the cold night.
Behind , Kaiser’s manor remained silent.
But I knew he wasn’t really sleeping.
He was thinking about . Because beyond the desire we felt for each other, there really was sothing else...
The only thing I fear is that one day... he’ll get tired of ... that he’ll find another beloved MILF... Then...
"My eyes will beco dangerous despite myself." That will be the end... for both of us!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers