For The Love Of Dark Romance╰(^3^)╯ᕙ( • ‿ • )ᕗ♪~(´ε` )
OPHELIA LAURENT'S POV “I hate you and that's final.“ I began stepping backwards. I wanted nothing more than to get away from this beautiful monster, but things never works my way. I stumbled back into a tray of hot coffee which sat carelessly on his desk, and before the cup of coffee could leave a burn on my skin the monster had caught me by my wrist changing our position and letting the hot liquid fall on his legs instead. My eyes widened as he hovered over me pinning me to the wall, his gaze on me cold and angry but I still tried to play unconcerned and savage “Getting splashed by the coffee would have been better than standing close to yo….“ His hand gripped my throat tightly, and I gasped swallowing the rest of my words. “Let's see if you'd be able to talk with that mouth of yours when I go balls deep in you throat.“ 5 YEARS AGO. Tonight, I wouldn't hold back. I have been studying him for days since I first saw him on our dimly lit patio. I had yet to see his face, but I saw his broad shoulders, fine narrow waist in a crisp black shirt that hugged his body not too tightly but was enough to show the fine bulge of his muscles, and I knew it was him immediately, my husband. The man who had kept himself hidden from me from the beginning of our two fucked up years of marriage. A hysterical laughter graced my lips, remembering how the clouds had teared up on my behalf as I dressed in a white dress standing on the altar, shivering and lonely with everybody watching as I wore a ring on a dummy's hand, a lifeless replacement for the husband I did not know. My father felt it was nothing. All my father wanted at that time was money, and fame, knowing his daughter was getting married to a nameless yet super-rich being who had paid Ten Million Dollars, gave him fleets of cars and three estates in Texas in replacement to keep his daughter hostage in a luxurious old mansion. When I call him ‘Anonymous,’ ‘The wealthy unknown,’ and ‘nameless,’ I mean it. On our marriage certificate, ‘Hus’ was his first name, and ‘Band’ was his last ‘Hus Band.' I could remember more tears blinding my eyes that day, knowing I had just gotten married to a narcissist, a sadist, and a bully who derives pleasure in mocking others. He married me just to mock me, I had always thought about that, but my father with his sweet tongue had said my husband was a busy man, but the asshole of a father doesn't know him. This shadow of a husband proved us wrong; the first time I saw his back on the patio, I felt a shudder run down my spine as I watched him wash his hands with the shower head the maids use to water the flowers. That day, I watched him pause washing his hands for a while and I quickly pulled the curtain close to prevent him from turning back to catch me staring, even though I had the urge to see his face and ask him if he was really the one I married keeping me hostage here for the past two years with guards blocking the large gate. I came back to that window again, only to find out he had left, and my breathing stopped like my nostrils had been stuck with embalming nasal tubes. Even in the moon's subtle glow, I could see what was written on the wall with dark red paint: “Hey, Little One.” My chest had raised like crazy because. I have never seen that there before; my guts tell me it was for me. And that was not all; the next day after I saw him, I woke up with a scream, tears streaming down my eyes, as I watched fresh blood run down my collarbone right into my cleavage. I didn't get myself until dusk that day. ‘It wasn't my blood, I had no cut, then who the fuck owns it.’ I got my answers the night I found out my husband was a murderer, or maybe a body part broker or a cadaver trader. The blood on my cleavage that day, ‘was he the one? Had he tried to kill me?’ My eyes went wide as I remembered covering my mouth to stop any word from coming out even though I knew I couldn't make one sentence correctly without stuttering after two years of not talking to anyone. I watched him carefully even with the way he backed me, his back filling the room and I laid flat on the marble floor of the balcony of my room, watching him in the large living room this time. He opens a white box, and my stomach twisted as he held out a fucking severed head of a man still dripping with blood. My heartbeat quickens remembering that day, and now I was lying on that particular spot of my balcony as I watched him sip from a glass of Vodka I had poured for him, which he had no idea of because I've used a maid, my Ally. Just tonight, I would escape. I have had everything planned out, and I would never share a life with a man like him, not even when his back can tell how sexy his face and front view would look, or his fine jet-black hair which was visible tonight because of the soft glow of the lanterns. Anytime he is home the lights from the chandeliers and fancy bulbs go off, leaving these spooky lanterns used for Halloween, maybe to not see him. But now, I'm not interested in seeing him; I am interested in running away from him and getting the happiness I deserve. I would be that free girl again, the girl these cruel people made me abandon in college Ophelia Laurent, the brain and beauty every man would kill to be with. After he was done, he left the living room, and I knew where he was headed to, to the opposite wing, where he stayed. The maid, my ally, had informed me about that. I brought out the divorce papers I hid in my chest part and I gulped every damn second as I took the stairs. Thank God I was in my Ally's uniform with her cap on, which covered my red hair; it would be hard for his dogs to know what was happening. In four minutes the sedative would start working, and I would get him to sign the divorce papers, I know it's illegal without is consent, but for a person who had paid the huge amount of money to keep me here he wouldn't accept if I had asked him too, I was sure of that. The additional signatures and processing would be done by my friend who is an Attorney.OPHELIA LAURENT'S POVFive Years Later“Hey, you know you are not meant to be here right?“ I asked my soon to be husband Klaus, a beautiful smile on my lips as he walks into my smll house at the sea shore.“I've missed you a lot Ophelia.“ He caressed my cheek softly, just tomorrow he would be my husband. He would be the man I would learn to love, but my heart starts to hammer with that thought and my thoughts drifted back to him, that night I illegally divorced him.Those memories rushed back to my mind like it was just yesterday. He slept in a balaclava, his upper chest bare and I almost forgot my mission seeing how hot he looks. What was more shocking to me was that he had my face tattooed all over his body, the tattoo of a woman boobs on his Torso and I felt and assumed it was mine, it nipples had my piercing too.'How did he know about the piercing on my nipples?' that thought had pierced my damn soul and now I could feel my nipples harden through my clothes. The fucker had been w
OPHELIA'S POVLying in the box was a severed tongue and chunks of bloody meat, a paper slept on the cause of my stomach tightening.I couldn't help it; I threw up right on the vanity table, not even waiting to check what was written on the paper “Ophelia.“ I should have let the person at the doorstep who had called my name see what I saw, I should have reported it, but the silly me chose to cover it up, covering the box with my back.It was my step-sister Elise Laurent who had walked in, and I could see the look of shock on her face after she noticed the mess I had made on the table “Are you…” she trailed off and if I hadn't been in the situation I would have begun pondering on why she cared, she never loves me anyways, knowing she was about to ask if I was pregnant.I was scared, my hands trembling, and the care to be a bride was gone after what I had seen. 'Wait, should I still be standing here? shouldn't I check if everyone is all right?' “Is everyone alright?“ I asked Elise, waiti
CALLUM'S POVOnly if I change my fucked up mind would I not make her mine today. I had stalked her from the beginning of the night she left. Even when I had gone to Italy to stay with my father, I watched her through the screens. I know what she does daily, I know the fucking ingredients in the foods she eats, I know the color of her panties and the materials she had preferred, lacy pants that gripped her ass tightly.I am obsessed with Ophelia, and my obsession has started for a very long time. I had married her five years ago just to keep her so her father wouldn't sell her to port-bellied sugar daddies that would pay daily with every cum they dropped in his daughter's ass, just like he was doing to her sister Elise.I don't want mine to be touched by others, and I don't want to kill her father on the spot when he sells my girl to his clients. I was a psychopath as Ophelia had called me, I was battling with serious ASPD trying to curb my violent act that's why I had locked her in my
OPHELIA'S POV My world shattered as the priest pronounced us as one, and from that moment, even though I knew every problem comes with a solution, I felt like I would never get out of this. Cheers from his men and the female ring bearer filled the air as he slammed his lips savagely against mine. His tongue tried prying my mouth open, but I didn’t let him, I wasn’t going to give in; I would make him regret this day, the day he married me. His hand cupped one of my mounds, catching me off guard as he squeezed me through my dress, and I gasped into his mouth. He slid his tongue into my mouth, tasting every corner, until I was drooling, until I felt I was dying with the breaths he was taking from me. When my body almost gave out and was on the verge of melting away like chocolates left in the sun, he finally pulled away, kissing the drool off my lips. “How I wish to take you now on this fucking altar.” He whispered against my swollen lips, sucking on my bottom lips, and pulled awa
Shame ate me up and I intended to kneel him in the groin, but he was swift, catching me by the knees, bending his broad back which had the shape of the viper head on his neck and he left soft kisses on my kneecaps “If you want to hit me next time, tell me so I would let you, I am used to quick defense.”“I would love to slap you in the face for touching me.” He raised his head, his piercing gaze slashing through my soul, and I assumed I was becoming insane with the way those luscious eyes made me feel my core tingle.He took my wrist, and I struggled to fight his touch. “Slap me here instead, when it is bare to you only.” He made me slap his bulge, and I froze like a mannequin, to have touched something solid, yet I could feel its softness against his pants. “You feel that, baby? I want to get clenched, sucked, slapped, and make you watch it as it spring to life, baby.” His eyes bored into mine burning with a great ferocity of desires.I pushed myself away from his lap, moving back to
My heart stopped beating, and I wished I had done something crazy earlier, so I would have been pushed out of this family I had gotten myself into. This is a bloody crime family, and I am in the home of one of the most dangerous mafia families and in the arms of the blood of them who had just raised a gun at his father.“Get the hell away from me, please.” I don't know if that was a plea because I said that in tears, hoping he would stop tormenting me.“You look pretty like this, and I want to take all you can give from this angle.” He said softly, and the ripping of my gown from the waist part was what I heard. “I would have loved it if our daughter had used this, but it is stained with your sweetheart's blood already.” “I want you to see you bare, swollen and needy.” His voice was husky, and the urge to clench my thighs together was overwhelming. I don't know what difference this makes me from a whore who openly admits to being one. He was still a stranger! I knew nothing about hi