Chapter 4

Elena's POV  

“Hold on,” I whispered, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and mine around his waist, both our bodies bloodied as we took gentle steps into the house. What did he mean by those words? He shouldn't have brought me into his mess.  

Was the kidnap attempt meant for him? Or me? How often had this happened? Besides, why wasn’t he whimpering or making a single sound?  

“My room is that way,” he offered, pointing his finger in the direction, and I nodded, helping him until we got in. I settled him against the bed, my eyes darting around in search of a first-aid box.  

“It’s in the bathroom; check the drawer,” he spoke. I studied his expression; he had a strong look of defiance. Even with two stab wounds, this man did not look as though he was in pain.  

I dashed into the bathroom, reached for the first-aid box, and instinctively, I pulled off his top. Only when my face was against his bare chest and pecs did I realize I had undressed him.  

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Don’t get all shy now… We are married, remember!” he asked again with a coy smile on his lips. I averted my gaze, holding firm control over myself. Reaching for the gauze, I helped clean the wounds; luckily, they didn’t seem too deep. I had cleaned, bandaged, and plastered them to the best of my knowledge.  

But with each move I made, my eyes subconsciously trailed off to his well-toned abs. This man was fit. Hot! I wanted to rake my hands through them, feel them; he wouldn’t say a thing. Matter of fact, he would be pleased, but what would be left of my dignity?  

I pulled away, mentally reminding myself that he was still an uncle to Caleb. I turned toward the bathroom and placed the box back into the drawer. In the split of a second, I caught my expression in the mirror.  

My cheeks were burning now; I was blushing, and he had seen it. I cleared my throat, trying to calm my nerves. He was hurt, and was this all I could think about?  

But who wouldn’t? I had the perfect body of a Greek god laid in bed there; why wouldn’t I stare? I tapped my cheeks slightly, clearing my throat once again, and turned back toward the bedroom, only to freeze in place.  

Our eyes locked; he wasn’t pissed or unsettled like I was. He had this calculating gaze, his demeanor calm.  

He had his trousers off, and only his briefs were on now. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; I had let myself gawk shamelessly at his perfectly outlined physique. Perhaps I was drunk last night, but seeing him standing straight made me throb between my thighs. This man had everything I wanted—the face, the chest, muscles, abs, and physique, along with intelligence!  

Then why? Why was I acting stiff when I knew my body wanted something else?  

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, coughing awkwardly after realizing I had been staring too long, like a pervert.  

“Why?” he asked, drawing my attention back toward him, and he took slow strides in my direction, his gaze not leaving mine for a second.  

“Why should you be sorry? It’s okay; you can stare, Elena. It’s all yours.” His hands grabbed onto mine, placing my palm gently against his chest. I felt my resolve soften, giving in to my hunger for more. I wanted this man, and he had broken the final straw by coming closer to me.  

“Do you feel that?” he asked. I trailed my hand right around his heart. My gaze widened, feeling how fast his heart was thudding against his ribs.  

“That’s the effect you have on me, Elena, only you,” he murmured, his tone now hoarse, his eyes darkened. He wrapped his arms around my waist, my boobs pressed firmly against his chest.  

“I want you,” he whispered. I could feel his hardened cock against my lap. I wasn’t startled or irritated; I could smell my arousal, my clit throbbing from the need to be rammed.  

I pressed my lips against his, savoring the taste of his tongue against mine. His arms slipped beneath my gown, fondling my ass gently.  

I pulled away, panting heavily, trying to catch my breath, but then I kissed him. I made the first move; I bloody kissed him first.  

He stroked my cheek, raising my chin with his fingers as though he could read my thoughts.  

“Keep kissing me and don’t stop,” he ordered. Chills ran down my spine; I felt a surge wash through me.  

I threw my body forward, pressing my lips against his again. His fingers raked beneath my gown, loosening the hem, watching as it fell to the floor, leaving me bare for him to see. He leaned closer, going down on his knees. My back slammed against the bathroom door as he sent trails of kisses down my belly, his teeth unclasping the ropes of my panties.  

Gently, he slid them off my feet; his tongue rested against the tip of my cunt. He held my hand against his head, pressing it between my thighs. I felt his tongue lap against my cunt as he nibbled on my pussy.  

“Ugh…” A light moan escaped my lips. His tongue dived deeper, slurring over every inch of my arousal, and my wet juices dripped from my cunt down to my ass crack.  

He swept me off my feet, raising me into his arms. His kisses melted away at my lips, neck, and chest, worshipping every inch of my skin he tasted.  

Gently, he laid my back against the bed. I watched with hunger as he undid his briefs, his cock in his palms; he was erect and fucking huge.  

He guided himself toward my entrance, eyes locked on mine. My knees buckled, and my back arched as he thrust into me with one swift motion. He stuck his finger into my lips, thrusting again and again, until my cunt welcomed his size, and my wet juices rubbed off his cock.  

“More, Caspian, please… more,” I screamed from pleasure. He leaned closer, pressing his lips on mine, his tongue gliding past my mouth. His thrusts increased, and my moans were louder than I intended them to be as raw passion and ecstasy engulfed me.