A Gorgeous Villain

by Saffron A Kent

His eyes are all dark and intense. “Because I wanted you to understand something.”

  “And what is that?”

  He comes closer to me, as if now that I’ve gotten my way and I’ve cleaned his wounds, it’s his turn now. To talk. To do things. To grab me.

  Which he does.

  He grabs my thickening waist with one hand and my face with the other. He even pulls me to him as if he doesn’t want a single thing separating us.

  Especially after how I kept us apart by barring the door on him.

  So he eliminates every little thing that stands between him and me, presses my short body to his tall one, and I hate that my hands clutch his shirt at the waist.

  I hate that as soon as our bodies touch, my achy, tender breasts to his ribs and my swollen belly to his pelvis, my lips part on a trembling, relieved breath.

  He dips that body over me then, and cranes my neck up as he growls, “First things first, you’re pregnant with my baby. You’re pregnant. And you need to understand that if I want to get to you, you’re going to let me. It doesn’t matter that you’re angry at me or I’ve been an asshole to you. You are going to let me. Because if something happens to you, Fae, if something happens to her, Halo, I don’t even know what I’m going to do. So if you ever lock your door or bar the windows or whatever the fuck you want to do to keep me out, remember that I’ll break it all down. I will destroy every single thing you put in my way in order to get to you. Do you understand that? Tell me you understand that.”

  I do.

  I do understand that.

  He told me this once when I was sixteen, that he’d climb every tower, bust through every window to get to me. And today he did.

  So I get that and I nod. “Yes.”

  “You fucking scared me.” His fingers on my body are urgent and pulling. “You scared me.”

  I fist his shirt and stretch my neck even more. “But you were so…”

  He presses his forehead to mine, his eyes flashing. “I know. I know I was cruel. What I said was uncalled for, but you need to remember something. You need to remember that I’m not made for love. I don’t do love. Some people can. Some people can fall in love, have a family, live in a big fucking house decorated with flowers and stuff. Some people stay together for the rest of their lives. And when one of them dies, the other one dies too. Or lives while praying for death. I’m not one of them. I didn’t grow up like that. I didn’t… I never saw stuff like that, you understand? All I’ve known is how to fight, how to go to war, how to win wars.

  “And you won’t get that because you’ve always had it. Love. You’ve always had brothers who loved you, who cared for you, who protected you. And you bake fucking cupcakes and you knit and you dance like a fairy. You are a fairy. But I’ve always been alone. I don’t have friends. Except for a sixty-year-old man who sucks at giving advice. I don’t have a family to speak of. I’ve got a shitty father and a mother who doesn’t care. I’ve got Pest but she’s more dependent on me than anything. I don’t expect you to understand any of this though. But I want you to understand this: I want you to understand that you can’t fall in love with me. Not again. You can’t fucking fall, Fae. You can’t. You can’t get your feelings mixed up again if I fuck you, you got that?”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a sister who’s pretty fucking emotional. And you’re that too. Girls can be emotional about this stuff. But I don’t want you to be, okay? I don’t want you to get involved emotionally if we have sex. Because I’m only going to hurt you. And I’ve done that before and it fucking sucked. It sucked. It tore me apart for two years and I pretended that it didn’t. But it did. And even though it might destroy me to hurt you again, I will. You saw what I did just now, didn’t you? So I know that I will. Because that’s all I know.”

  That’s all he knows.

  How to hurt and how to be cruel.

  How to be a villain.

  A villain who doesn’t want to hurt me but will. Because I’ll get emotionally involved if we have sex.

  This should do it then, shouldn’t it? Kill my love. Once and for all. Besides this isn’t the first time he’s said that he can’t love or that he’ll break my heart if I give it to him again.

  So this should make me move on.

  But it only makes me fall more. The thing he doesn’t want me to do.

  It only makes me fall deeper and deeper, so deep that I’ll never come out. I’ll never come up for air. I don’t even need air.

  I only need him.

  This lonely boy.

  Because I’m a girl in love.

  “Promise me,” he rasps, begging, when all I do is stare up at him. “Promise me that you won’t fall in love with me. You need to promise me that, Fae.”

  His features have the same urgency that they did when he asked me to hold on to my dress two years ago. When he asked me to protect myself, my virginity, my body, from him. Because if he saw what was between my legs, he would take it. He would rip it from me.

  I did what he asked me to do back then.

  But I can’t do it now.

  I can’t not love him.

  “If I promise, will you fuck me?” I whisper like I did back then.

  If I promise, will you kiss me?

  At my words, he lets it show. His need. The need that he’s been hiding for weeks now.

  The need that darkens his features, sharpens them. Makes them all points and peaks and edges. Unsafe and dangerous.

  Villainous.

  And I know his answer is going to be the same as it was two years ago on that rainy night. “Fuck yeah.”

  My breaths shouldn’t come so easy now but they do.

  My lungs are happy. My heart is happy too. Because I get to be his and he gets to be mine. Secretly but still.

  “I promise,” I lie and seal my fate.

  His villainous, beautiful features ripple. “You do.”

  I nod. “Yes. I won’t fall in love with you.”

  Because I already have.

  I already fell in love with him, two years ago, and now I know that I never fell out of it. Even when he broke my heart and I hated him. Even when I wanted to move on.

  I never stopped loving him.

  And now I don’t have to stop. I can keep loving him for eternity. I can keep loving my villain even if I can’t tell him. Even if he doesn’t want me to.

  Then his hand on my face goes up to my hair. He tugs my head back, primal, savage hunger evident in every line of his face, and bends down even more, seeking something. Seeking me. And I go up on my ballerina toes.

  I grab his shirt and crane my neck up, give myself to him.

  Because if I don’t, I think the hunger will eat him alive. This hunger that’s been building up inside of him for weeks.

  And I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him suffer any longer now that he’s captured me, my heart.

  So I offer my mouth to him to feed on.

  But it’s not as if I’m shy. That all I do is let him take, no.

  I take things from him too.

  It’s important, see.

  It’s important to take because I’m hungry too. In fact, my hunger matches his. This hunger to love him, and if I can’t say it with words, then I will let my body talk.

  I will let my lips speak for me when they open for him and they suck on his lips. When my tongue licks his and my teeth clack with his. And when his hands tug at my hair and his hoodie that I’m wearing, my hands come alive too. They tug on his shirt, pull at his buttons.

  Soon though Reed has to break the kiss to divest himself of his shirt, throwing it away. But he doesn’t stop there.

  He takes off the hoodie I’m wearing too. Not only that, he goes down on his knees to take off my pajama pants. And it all happens so fast and yet so slow that by the time I’m naked and he comes back up, I’m dying to put my mouth on him.

  And then we don’t break even when he picks me up. I�
�m heavier now but he doesn’t even pant or blink an eye.

  I suck on his cupcake lips as he walks out of the bathroom, strides down the hallway and reaches my bedroom, lowering me onto the bed and inevitably breaking our kiss.

  I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him, standing at the foot of the bed, his thick cock making a tent in his pants. And as enticing as it is, my eyes don’t stop there.

  Because God, he’s bare-chested.

  This is the first time I’ve seen him like this.

  It’s crazy, isn’t it?

  So freaking insane that I’ve loved him for two years and I’m pregnant with his baby but I have never ever seen him naked. I’ve never ever seen that vampire skin mold over the broad muscular shoulders, those jutting collar bones. Or that sparkling skin stretching over his taut arched pecs.

  I’ve never seen his light brown nipples that I want to flick with my fingers. Or his taut ribs. That stomach, all muscular and dense with a ladder of abs. His sleek waist and his belly button that I want to dip my tongue in.

  I don’t even know how to describe him except to say, “You’re gorgeous.”

  “But a villain,” he whispers, and I look up to find his eyes on fire, his eyes roving over me, over my swollen belly, my bigger tits, the wet gash between my thighs.

  I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re a villain.

  I don’t say that though.

  Instead, I demand with wide eyes, “I wanna see.”

  “See what?”

  I lick my lips. “Your cock.”

  Something about my shamelessness makes him chuckle, his stomach hollowing, throwing his corrugated muscles into stark relief. “You want to see my dick, Fae?”

  I nod, glancing down at the bump in his jeans. “Yes.”

  “Because you’ve never seen him, have you?”

  I bite my lip, slide my leg up and down the bed. “No.”

  “And he’s been inside of you.”

  I swallow, looking back at his face because I don’t know where to look, at his wolf eyes or his hard-on. “Uh-huh.”

  His hands go to his button and my breath hitches when he pops it. I clench the sheet when he lowers the zipper. “And he gave you this. Your swollen belly.”

  At his words, that swollen belly flutters. But I know the difference now. I know it’s not Halo. She’s sleeping safely inside my body.

  I know it’s him. It’s my love for him that flutters, that has been fluttering all this time, spreading its wings, wanting to fly.

  I’ve had it caged until tonight.

  But I let it fly now.

  I let my love for him fly and flow through my veins and I nod. “Yes. And it’s unfair. That I haven’t seen him yet.”

  He nods with a tight jaw. “Yeah. It is. When I get to see her every night, your fairy pussy. When I get to lick her and suck on her and play with her. When I get to see how fucking pink she is. How soft and pretty. How tiny and daisy fresh. Just like my Fae.”

  I grip the sheets tighter, squirming my hips. “But she’s not. She’s not daisy fresh anymore.”

  He chuckles again, this time only a puff of breath that makes him shudder. He still doesn’t show it to me though. He only massages his hard dick over his jeans and rasps, “He saw to that, didn’t he? I saw to that.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  He comes closer then, puts his hand on the bed and bends over me, and stares at my prone form intensely. “I made sure that this time when I caught you in my evil clutches, I made you pay. That I left my mark, didn’t leave you unscathed.”

  My elbows give out and I fall on the bed, all writhing and needy. “You did.”

  And that gives him permission to get on the bed. To hang over me like a thrilling, threatening shadow. “Yeah. Maybe you should call the cops on me then. You should tell them how I cornered you in the woods. How I carried you screaming and kicking in my arms and put you in my Mustang. You should tell them how I tore at your clothes, your pretty white dress, to get at you. To get at your pussy. Your virgin pussy, wasn’t it? How I didn’t even care if she was a virgin. How I took one look at her, all pink and swollen shut and I lost my mind. I lost my fucking mind and rammed inside of you. How I made you cry. I made you bleed. You should tell them that, Fae. You should tell them that this motherfucking villain didn’t even care that he was fucking you raw. That his dick was banging into your sweet pussy without rubber and when he got enough sense to pull out, it was already too late.”

  God, I’m a mess.

  I’m a writhing, sweating mess and I’m tearing at the sheets. I’m tearing at them and rocking and I know my pussy is so wet for him.

  For the villain that’s hanging over me, telling me these filthy tales.

  False tales though.

  “But I wasn’t,” I whisper almost incoherently.

  “You weren’t what?”

  “I wasn’t k-kicking and screaming.”

  “Ah, so you wanted it then.”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “My Fae wanted to be fucked by a villain.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He crawls over me even more and my thighs, even in my mindlessness, part for him. They make space for his large body. When he’s directly above me, his biceps straining and sweaty now, he says gruffly, “So you won’t call the cops on me, baby?”

  I shake my head, shuddering, almost orgasming at his ‘baby.’

  “No? Not even to tell them that you just went out for a walk. An innocent fucking walk when he took you, that villain. When he captured you in his dirty hands and fucked you so hard that he sowed a baby inside of you.”

  My hands leave the sheet and go to him.

  My nails make homes in the meat of his biceps and dig in, making him shudder over me. “No. God, Reed. Please.”

  He lowers himself on me, his taut abs touching my pregnant belly, and I arch my back. I bring my thighs around his waist, my core seeking his cock.

  “Please what, Fae?” he asks, framing my face with his hands, rubbing his jean-covered cock right at the notch of my thighs. “‘Please, show me your dick, Reed.’ Is that what you’re saying?”

  I undulate with him, chasing that friction. “Yes.”

  “What about now?” He chuckles, teasing me, moving against me, giving me that friction that he gives me every night, but I want something more tonight. I want his cock. “You want to call them now? You want to tell them that this asshole won’t even show you his dick. His big, fat dick that made your pussy cry and got her pregnant.”

  I push at his biceps and claw at his skin. “God, Roman, you’re —”

  Sense slams into me then.

  It jars me.

  It opens my eyes, clears my foggy vision and I see him.

  I see his flushed cheekbones, the sweat dotting his brows. His stubble-covered jaw that’s sharp but still. His entire body is still. Hard like a rock. So much so that digging my nails into his muscles is a hardship now.

  My heart pounds in my chest as I lie beneath him, naked, with parted thighs.

  “What’d you just say?” he asks in a voice that barely reaches me even though I’m almost wrapped around him.

  I swallow. “R-Roman.”

  He stares at me for a few beats and I don’t know what he’s thinking.

  I don’t know what he’ll do.

  “I’ve been…” he says again in that low voice. “I didn’t… I didn’t think that you’d ever call me that. I thought…”

  “You thought what?”

  His eyes pierce into mine, so many emotions running through them, and his Adam’s apple jerks. “I thought that I’d lost it. Lost the privilege of you calling me that.”

  My hands fly to his face then, my palms rubbing his stubble. “You didn’t. You didn’t lose it.”

  His jaw tics under my palm, his eyes burning me. “Say it again.”

  Tears prick my eyes but I blink and obey him. “Roman.”
/>   “Again.”

  “Roman.”

  “Again.”

  “Roman.”

  But this time, I don’t stop. I chant it for him, so he can absorb it, the name that I gave him two years ago. So he can tuck it inside all his empty spaces.

  So this name that I gave him in love warms him up.

  It warms his winter blood, his chilled bones, his cold soul.

  I chant it until I can’t anymore.

  Because his mouth is covering me. Because his mouth is drinking that name from my lips, swallowing it down like an elixir. An antidote to all the hurt, the pain inside of him.

  And then he isn’t kissing me anymore.

  He’s broken that kiss and left me to get rid of his jeans. And again, he’s done it all so fast and yet so slow that by the time he gets back to me and settles himself over me again, I’m hurting.

  My lust is hurting me.

  It’s hurting him too, but still he frames my face in his large hands and stares into me. “I don’t… I don’t have a condom. I didn’t exactly plan this. But if you need me to, Fae, I’ll go get some, okay? I’ll —”

  I shake my head, clutching onto his muscled obliques, rubbing my heels over the backs of his naked thighs. “I don’t care. I don’t want anything between us.”

  God, not anymore. I’m tired of being apart from him.

  But he has more to say. He has more to tell me when I want him inside of me.

  “I’m still cl —”

  I put my hand on his lips then. “I know.”

  We’re way, way past that now.

  And he’s relieved to see that bit of trust in my eyes because his breaths puff out on my palm and then he does what I’ve been wanting him to do for weeks now.

  He fucks me.

  Or prepares to.

  Staring into my eyes, he grips his cock and lines it up with my core before dipping his slippery head in. I grip his shoulders and wait for him to breach me, and in the next breath, he does.

  Not all the way though.

  Like he did the last time, all blind and raging in his jealousy.

  He gives me only an inch but even that stretches me out. Even that makes me throw my head back and moan, makes my thighs slip around his hips.

  Reed pulls out then, grunting, and on his next push, gains another inch.