"These moans of yours, Zemira, they tend to tamper with my head. They're making my mind a haywire, 𝓜𝓸𝔂 𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻." He whispered into my ear, sending shivers down my spine. His dominance was giving me power to show my dominance.
If he wants to...
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How dare he look more handsome than before!
The whole night all I could think was about him. From the moment I sat on the bed beside a sleeping Ysabel, the thoughts of him spread all across my mind like air. The thoughts of eating food flew away to the bottom of my mind, for the first time scared to be the center of attention.
He looked so ravishing with his few shirt buttons open, giving me view of his creative tattoos and defined abs, suppressing the strong feeling of sculpting them with my hands. I loved the way his hair was ruffled, a few strands of it falling before his forehead, the way I liked it. It felt weird to see expressions of hurt in his bottle green eyes when they were more accustomed to show darkness.
Despite of his cold outlook, yesterday, the warmth he gave me by just touching my wrists was shocking. But, it was not the physical warmth. The warmth was enough to keep my cold heart cosy, to ease all the tensions in my mind, to loosen all of my muscles. It was so mentally beautiful.
The desperation in his eyes was another shocking thing for me. The light eyebags under his eyes proved that he was sleeping less than usual, the despondence in his voice seemed genuine but it angered me. It angered me that those eyebags were most probably because of me, it angered me that how he pleaded me to give him my word, proved that I was the reason behind everything he was feeling. It angered me that I held so much power over him yet I felt like I was nothing to him.
The day of that fucking so called Mafia ball has arrived, bringing a lot of regrets with it. It's 4 in the evening and the ball starts at 8 but I'm totally gonna go there around 10 because I want to. Everyone is currently sitting in the living room, including me, watching re-runs of Friends, laughing like pigs here and then, and then there's me, whose fucked up mind is still stuck somewhere in the stone age.
I really need to go to the doctor, how the fuck can I not laugh at Chandler's humor?!
By everyone, I also meant Artyom whose head is currently on my right thigh while Ysabel's head is laying on my left thigh, both getting unintentional head massages from me. Artyom strictly prohibited me and Ysabel from taking a look of our dresses which were kept in big black beautiful satin boxes on my bed. He, thankfully, made the other girl's dresses and sent them to their locations which I told Domeneque to find out.
I received the blueprint of the castle where the ball was being held from Marceau on my way out of the casino. On reaching the house last night, the first thing I did was alot all the places to my men which I then redirected to Domeneque whose job, as I allotted, was to take care of everything as well as tell the men and women about their stations. My mafians who reached Burgundy in the morning were staying at a mansion not far from the castle.
"You bitch, I don't feel tickles under my feet." I grumble at Artyom attempting to tickle me.
"Do you also not feel me calling you for the past 5 minutes?" He asks, laying back onto my lap, exhausted by the mere action of tickling me.
