She continued to hold on to me, her chest rising and pressing against my back, her hard nipples pressing into me every few seconds. “I’m sorry…”
It was still dark when I left.
In my bomber jacket and boots, I descended the stairs and prepared to depart out the double doors and get into the car that my valet had parked outside. It was raining. I liked the rain, so it didn’t make a difference to me, and riding in the snow was no problem either. Ever since I was a boy, I’d had to survive. I had to get food in my stomach with no money. I had to find a place to sleep, even if it was in an alley. There had to be a solution to every problem. The rain, the snow, those weren’t problems by comparison.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Melanie was there.
She was in her nightgown. Her lips were dull, and her eyes empty because she wasn’t covered in makeup. She was exactly as she’d looked at the camp, and only a woman like her could pull that off and still be stunning.
Only my chérie.
I halted as I stared at her. Our conversation had concluded with her on top of me, riding me nice and slow, her tits in my face, showing me how sorry she was. My anger had evaporated, and now I looked at her with longing.
Because I would miss her.
And by the look in her eyes, she would miss me too.
Gilbert opened the double doors so I could depart and stepped outside under the portico roof. The rain was loud, splashing against the cobblestones, echoing as it pierced the pond in the center like bullets from a barrel.
She moved into me, her arms sliding inside my jacket, her head tilted all the way back because it was much harder to meet my gaze without her five-inch heels. “I asked Gilbert to wake me up…so I could say goodbye.”
My hands scooped under her ass and lifted her up against me, her nightgown riding up so her ass hung out, but my men knew better than to look. I had her against me, right where I wanted her, with her face right next to mine.
Her arms circled my neck, and she rested her forehead against mine.
I held her there, silently saying goodbye, her body so light in my arms that I could hold her that way forever. “Tu vas me manquer, chérie.” I kissed her, giving her my tongue, my hot breaths, my fingers kneading her ass.
“I don’t understand…”
I gave her a slight smile as I rested my forehead against hers once more. “I think you do, chérie.”
After the long journey, I arrived in the camp at sunset.
My men came out to meet me, taking my horse to the stables, grabbing my bag to carry it to the cabin before I arrived there, working like obedient dogs without needing a command. Not a word was spoken.
I was marched through the cabins then approached the clearing, flanked by two of my men. My eyes scanned the area, making sure everything was exactly as it should be, that the men were doing their jobs, that the women were doing theirs.
As I walked through the clearing, I could feel it.
Feel that stare.
Violent. Furious. Maniacal.
I stopped in my tracks and turned to give her mine in return.
She stood near the table, her ugly face contorted into a tight look that made her even more hideous than she already was. Her arms were by her sides, but her hands were curled into fists. Her nostrils flared as she breathed hard, as if she was a bull about to charge me, seeing red instead of black.
I took a step toward her. Silently threatened her. Promised to put that noose around her neck if she didn’t look away.
But she didn’t. The bitch fucking stared and stared.
She wouldn’t give in, so she left me no choice but to turn away first.
And she should die for that.
There was only one reason she didn’t.
One.
The fireplace burned in my cabin, the darkness pressing up against the windows like the shadows would slip through the cracks and put out the flames. My dinner plate was empty, the juice from my steak the only thing left behind other than a few crumbs of bread. My fingers rested on the top of my scotch, as if protecting it from someone who might want to steal it.