Claimed

Six

I stepped through the door of my apartment to see Spice cooking for me in front of the stove displaying all her naked glory. Walking in further, I inhaled deeply and sat on the couch in the living room.

"Smells nice in here." I informed her monotonously. She looked at me with an excited smile and let me know that the food would be ready in fifteen minutes. Mind still reeling from the events of earlier and all the threats I had received because of them, I made up my mind on what to do and gestured for Spice to come to me. Reading the frustration in my eyes, she left everything she was doing and skipped towards me.

Spice knelt on the floor between my legs and sensually removed my shoes, lightly massaging my feet and causing me to let out a sated sigh. After a few moments of rubbing and kneading, she perched up on the couch next to me and delicately removed the clothing on my upper body.

Once I was clad in just my sports bra, she pushed my head down in her lap and began to massage the back of my neck and shoulders. Just before I could even think of relaxing, I stiffened, "The food?"

"Won't burn. I turned the heat off." She soothed me and dug her fingers into my stiff muscles. Spice was grateful beyond words to have been saved from the demeaning life she was living without having to actually die like the rest of her fellows, which seemed like the only possibility to her before I took a liking to her and brought her back home. To show her gratitude, she insisted on taking care of all my biological needs even though I told her I didn't need it, because she seemed like the perfect alibi and that was all I had wanted from her.

After the fire, I brought her home and gave her a place to live in, as long as she didn’t mind being my alibi whenever I got in sticky situations concerning the King. A few moments of groaning and relaxing later, I dug my face a little farther down between her legs, found her clit and began sucking as if my life depended on it, in order to thank her. Once I had thanked her into a climax, I found my way to my room and did my nightly routine before falling in bed with an emptiness inside me.

I didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night, feeling alienated in my own body. For the entirety of the past two years, the only goal in my life was to capture the King and put him behind bars, now that that had happened, I was purposeless, hollow, an empty metal pot clanking loudly with the motion of the wind.

Trying to tire myself, I sprinted out the apartment and around my block, solely focused on wandering around my own head and concentrating fruitlessly on walking across the tightrope that were my own nerves, towards the swaying, dwindling and fading silhouette of someone who was supposed to look like me. I knew who I was before but I didn’t know what I would be after.

In a moment of weakness and sleep deprivation, I changed direction and started running towards the station to check up on my obsession and how he was doing in his new temporary home before he got evicted.

Breathing heavily, I reached my destination and slid inside as discreetly as the titanic crashing into a kiddy pool. On receiving the unwanted attention of everyone present, I righted my posture into faux confidence and strutted towards the King’s cell. Stepping inside, I marveled at his damned beauty again before he raised his curious yet amused eyes to my face and raised a perfect eyebrow. “I was waiting for you.”

“Why?” I muttered, working extra hard on my blank expression.

“So I could do this.” He stalked towards me, as graceful as a panther, like he had all the time in the world and reached for the back of my neck. Digging his fingers painfully in my flesh and pulling so I stared up at him, he drawled, “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“Why?” I repeated like a broken record.

“You’ll see.” He whispered and pulled harder, making me whimper but before I gave him too much control, I took matters in my own hands and kneed him in the stomach.

Winded, he let go of me and bent to ease the pain and fill his lungs with air again and I roughly grabbed the back of his neck, partly returning the gesture and partly because I wanted to feel the sensation of his hair between my fingers He straightened up, having recovered and returned his amused eyes back to my face, jerking my hold off of him like it was nothing.

“I hate you.” I hissed.

“Why?” he returned with a crooked upturn to his lips and grabbed a strand of my hair, curling it between his fingers.

“I hate you so much that I can’t even exist outside of you anymore.” I confessed, defeated and ashamed.

“The feeling’s mutual, amor, but I mean it a little more physically.” He ran his eyes down my body lasciviously, licking his luscious lips and having had enough of his words that did nothing to quench the erratic need for something primal in me, I forced myself to tell him what brought me all the way to him.

“I thought this is what I wanted but it isn’t.” I told him, hoping he would become curious and ask me to tell him more, but he just kept staring at me curiously. After a while of not finding the words to speak, I decided to just show him and turned around to leave.

“Remember,” he baited, I fell.

Obediently, I turned around for him to continue only to hear the same words for the third time in the same night, twice by the same person, “You’ll regret this.”