Page 66 of My Dark Divine
Arriving here felt like a nightmare. Now, as we leave, it feels like everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and I don’t want it to end.
Fuck my brain for never being able to make up its mind.
Just then, my phone lights up with a message from my father, and any warm thoughts I had a second ago vanish in an instant. I already feel nauseous at the thought of returning to the home I despise and reporting to him like a programmed robot. I’ll have to answer his stupid questions, providing a detailed account of whether I’m being a good thing to use.
I’ve always been a pawn in other people’s hands—a jellyfish without a voice. After a brief moment of experiencing something good, I can’t allow myself to feel more of it.
A touch on my hand pulls me from my swirling thoughts. I blink to clear the haze from my vision and look down. My hand trembles in his grasp—the one where the skin around my nails is already raw from the pressure. Without even realizing it, I started hurting myself again.
I look up at West, but his gaze is turned toward the window, intentionally avoiding eye contact as he holds my hand in silence while we drive.
And honestly? I prefer it this way.
“How long until we land?”I ask drowsily, tilting my head from side to side and relishing the satisfying crack of my muscles. West is completely detached, focused on his laptop as if I don’t exist. Since we boarded the plane, he’s immersed himself in work, showing no signs of stopping—even for a coffee break.
What kind of monster doesn’t allow himself a quick coffee break?
“You can ask that question a couple hundred more times, and you’ll still get the same answer,” he replies bluntly, never bothering to look up. I lean to the side, catching a glimpse of the endless text reflected in his glasses.
He looks good in them. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing a sweatshirt and sweats, his hair a tangled mess. He carries an easygoing demeanor, giving off a carefree energy that conceals his true nature as a fucking psychopath.
“I’m bored,” I say, desperately seeking his attention like a needy child.
“And you think that’s my problem?” he asks nonchalantly. “We have a TV. Go watch a movie.”
“Alone?”
His large hand tightens with blue veins as he keeps typing, never bothering to glance in my direction. “Yes, Venetia.Alone. I have work to do.”
I’m so tired of this hot-and-cold game. One moment he’s obsessed with me, and the next, he’s back to being an asshole. It frustrates me. I’m not just some toy he can discard whenever he’s busy. I’m soon to be his wife, after all. I deserve better.
A memory flashes through my mind—the night he returned to the hotel room after killing Elijah. He toyed with me for what felt like hours, and the words he said still linger.
‘You don’t have the privilege of having me in your mouth yet.’
Who even says something like that? It’s fucking absurd. As if I need to earn it.
West needs to be taught a lesson. He’s used to everyone catering to his every whim. I remember all those women who would’ve done anything for a chance to be his, all dancing around him. I don’t need his permission to pursue what I want, and right now, I want his full attention because I fucking deserve it.
Scooting down to the floor, I drop to my knees and crawl toward him. I place my hands on his knees, making myself comfortable between his legs, and finally—fucking finally—he looks down at me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he grumbles, shifting his laptop aside but not setting it down. “Venetia?—”
Without answering, I let my hand travel up, cutting him off. He inhales sharply as I grab him, squeezing just enough to earn a choked groan from his chest. “I said I’m bored,” I drawl lazily, inching my face closer. “And you have something that might help me.”
His brows arch in surprise before his face shifts into an arrogant smirk. “I’m not your toy,” he retorts, amusement lacing his voice.
“Not a toy,” I reply, rubbing my cheek against him, feeling the twitch beneath the annoying layer of fabric. I look up, catching the growing desire in his eyes. “My future husband.”
The muscle in his jaw tightens as he battles against something we both crave, acting like the stubborn prick he is. After a moment of locked gazes, he finally raises his head and sets the damn laptop aside. “Mike, get the fuck out of here,” he commands the guard, a slight tremor rippling through his voice.
I don’t wait for Mike to leave or for the door to close behind him as I slide down his sweatpants and underwear, my eyes drinking in a sight that still feels surreal. My gazefollows the veins along his length before moving back to the tip, where glistening pre-cum awaits. Mouth watering, I stare, desire pooling in my lower stomach and gradually overpowering any rational thought.
He opens his mouth, probably to say something that will infuriate me, but I refuse to let him succeed. Without hesitation, I open my mouth wide, sliding him across my tongue before wrapping my lips around him. I hollow my cheeks, attempting to take him as deep as I can, but it’s been a long time since I did this, and he has the longest dick I’ve ever seen. I know it’ll take some time to achieve what I want.
His hand runs through my hair, gripping a handful of strands in an attempt to pull me back, but I fight against his hold, swallowing him deeper instead.
“Fuck, fuck, Netia, slow down,” he chokes out, his hand both guiding me deeper and trying to pull me back, as if he can’t decide what he wants. “It’s been a long fucking time since this, slow the fuck down.”
