Page 47 of No Longer Mine
She had the ring. For now.
She had her security codes reset. For now.
She thought she was safe.
I couldn’t wait to show her how wrong she was. I couldn’t wait to get back at her. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her little neck and punish her for taking what was mine. My lips curled as I pulled my hoodie over my head and tucked my hands in my pockets.
Don was waiting for me outside in the car. “Feeling better?”
“No,” I growled.
“Do you want to talk about it?” That was a first. He usually let me stew in silence.
“No.”
He nodded his head and pulled away from the curb. The car rumbled down the quiet streets, the city still alive, still humming with movement. But all I could see was her. I let my head rest against the seat, my fingers tapping against my knee. I could still smell the faint trace of her perfume from earlier tonight. Still see the way she moved in that dress, the way she had let Gavin’s hands roam her body like she belonged to him.
Fuck. I was going in circles. I was obsessed. I needed anything on my mind that meant she couldn’t be like I’d done for the last few months. I’d thrown my entire being into the campaign. When she didn’t show her hand, I decided she was gone. How wrong I was. She was back, and it was worse than before because now I knew who she was. Not only did I know who she was, but I also knew where she lived.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scarlett
As soon asI walked through the front door of my penthouse, I knew no one had been inside. It was like I could feel it. Which meant Dimitri, or someone else, was toying with me. I changed the codes and locks on everything just to be safe, and was glad I had a key and a keypad to enter my home. Plus all of the various locks that went up my door when I was finally inside.
I shouldn’t have felt safe, but I did. It helped that I was armed. I stared down at the ring still glittering on my left hand and immediately yanked it free. I couldn’t stand to see it for another second. I kicked off my shoes in the entryway and padded to the back of my spacious home. The couch was a fluffy, lumpy, beautiful mess and the art on the walls meant something to me. Many of the pieces were done by children in the privately owned orphanage that I grew up in. To be accepted into the elite group home, you had to be of some kind of talent. Many of the children I was around were artists, composers, and masterminds.
To this day, I don’t know what landed me in that massive rundown mansion, but a part of me is thankful for it. I found my calling and my family there. I ran my finger down the frame onone of the paintings as I passed. It was dark and haunting— my favorite. It was the only piece in my home that still unsettled me.
A child had painted it years ago—one of the quiet ones, the kind who never spoke unless spoken to. The kind who didn’t last long in Vanewood Manor.
I turned away from the painting and continued toward my bedroom, my fingers still clutching Dimitri’s ring like it had personally offended me. I could throw it down the garbage chute. Drop it in a storm drain. Sell it to some clueless millionaire who would never question where it came from. But I wouldn’t do any of those things because Dimitri would know immediately. If that wasn’t much of a deterrent, I knew the guilt would eat me alive. I would never be able to live with myself. Even though I didn’t know what the ring meant to him, I knew it was enough for him to hunt me into the next life.
I tossed the ring onto my nightstand instead, letting it clatter against the glass with a sharp metallic clink. Then I unzipped my dress, peeling it off my body and replacing it with one of my softest silk robes. My muscles ached and my mind felt sluggish. I needed a shower, sleep—something to wash away the weight of this night.
But instead of doing any of those things, I grabbed a bottle of wine and dropped onto my oversized couch, sinking into the cushions as I stared up at the ceiling. I exhaled through my nose, stretching my legs across the couch, my robe parting slightly as I leaned back into the cushions. My skin was still sensitive, my body still restless from everything that had happened tonight.
I set my glass down with a soft clink, pushing myself off the couch. My body was buzzing, restless in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.
I knew what I needed.
Something to take the edge off. Something to chase the tension from my limbs, to steal back the control I felt slipping away.
I walked to my bedroom, my robe trailing against my thighs as I stepped inside. The city lights flickered beyond the window, casting shadows along the walls. My nightstand drawer slid open without a sound.
I grabbed my vibrator first, testing the weight of it in my palm before reaching for the other—thicker, more solid—one, one meant for when I really needed it.
I turned the vibrator on, the low buzz filling the room, and dragged it straight to my clit. A sharp moan left my lips. The first touch sent a shockwave through me, my hips twitching at the stimulation. I worked it in slow circles, teasing, dragging it over the sensitive bundle of nerves until my body grew desperate for more. My free hand trailed over my stomach, up to my breasts, my nails grazing my nipple as I let my head tip back into the pillows. It felt good. But I needed more.
I spread my legs wider, dragging the vibrator lower, teasing my pussy until I was aching for it. A whimper escaped me as I reached for the dildo, lining it up before slowly pushing it inside of me. I gasped at the stretch, my back arching slightly as the pressure built. My fingers tightened around the toy, thrusting slowly at first, letting myself adjust before I picked up the pace. The combination of the deep, steady strokes and the relentless vibrations on my clit had me trembling in minutes. I bit my lip, and my breathing hitched.
I made the mistake of closing my eyes. And suddenly, it wasn’t just my hands anymore. It was Dimitri’s. He wouldn’t let me take my time. Wouldn’t let me control the pace. He’d have me pinned, spread, and ruined. I just knew it. I let out a sharp cry, the pleasure spiking as I fucked myself harder, chasing the high, chasing his ghost.
I could almost hear him. “Thinking about me, Little Fox?”
My breath hitched, my toes curling, the pressure in my stomach coiling tight. I wasn’t supposed to want this. But I did.
God, I did.
