Tales from Arondell: Sodom - Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Nathanael Scarlett

Over the last two days I've managed to keep Zae's promise, but it's been with a heavy heart because I had to avoid Isabella. It's cowardly I know and it wasn't something I wanted to do either. But if I looked at her I would've seen him and the one thing I can't yet have. Once again a man has taken something from me, only this time I allowed it to happen. Besides, on the few occasions when I mustered the courage to talk to her she was busy, with Larenna and the girls. Then Madam Verune reminded me I could put my time to better use. Sodding women!

So here I am, wallowing in inventory and fucking paperwork! My cigarette, now mostly ash, dangles from my fingertips and I chew on my pen as I scan one list of numbers after the other. But it's all the fucking same to me!

I'm alone in my study which is sound proofed and sparsely furnished, so I don't even have any external distractions. Things I long for to break up the boredom and monotony.

“Gah! This is bullshit!” I sweep aside the piles of receipts, dispatch notices and other papery crap, and prop my feet up on my desk. “There's no way I can fucking concentrate. Not now. Not ever.” Snuffing my cigarette, I fold my hands behind my head and lean back in my chair. My glazed eyes fix upon the ceiling. “Someone else should be doing this. Not me.”

Sighing, I run my hand over my face. Two days. Two fucking days without a shag and I'm coming apart at the seams. What's fucking wrong with me? Then again I'm not exactly used to a lover, let alone my slave telling me when I can and can't fuck!

I growl and shake my head. The nerve. Zae's got fucking balls of brass to make such a demand, and what does that say about me?

“I'm far too masochistic and needy for my own good.” Dropping my feet to the floor, I abandon my desk and check my pocket watch: Eight forty-five. I'd better shower, eat and feed my blades. I've neglected them long enough. Of course that's not all I've neglected, but I can ignore the rest of my needs. At least until I'm alone, maybe in the shower with the hot water sliding down my body and the steam enveloping me, like I'm in a dream.

“Fucking control yourself Nate.” I shove another smoke into my mouth, light it and storm out of my study. Slamming the door behind me. I'll get back to the mess tomorrow. Or maybe when Zae gets home. None of it is desperately urgent like Verune thinks.

My steps carry me from the back end of the house, past the library, Edwin's study and the enclosure where he keeps his strange pet. Vorin is playing his music again, as loud as always but this time it grates on my nerves. Gods damn it. I shove my fingers into my temples and keep on walking. I'll be in quiet solitude with my fist around my cock soon enough.

Passing the rooms belonging to Zae's family, I hear voices within and pause. Larenna Caine, her young daughters and Isabella.

I sigh. Just keep moving Nate. Leave them be. Despite my need for a shower and the nagging sensation in my loins, I linger in the hallway. The door is open a crack. They must've just tucked the girls into bed. Now my Dove is reading to them a familiar fairytale.

I sigh again and puff on my cigarette. Her sweet voice tugs at my heartstrings, filling me with a deep and painful longing. Damn you Nate. Why couldn't you leave them alone? Even as I curse myself I creep closer to the door, and peek inside.

The main bedroom, belonging to Darneth and Larenna Caine, is empty but a soft welcoming light shines from the girls' bedroom. That's where Bella's voice is coming from.

I've no doubt she will make a wonderful mother someday, gifting her husband with a dozen sons and daughters. I sag against the door-frame and drag on my cigarette, turning my head enough to blow the smoke into the hallway. I don't care if anyone sees me. I have as much right to be here because the Caines have welcomed me into their hearts, and to the girls I'm their uncle.

Uncle Natty they call me. I smile sadly and stare at the floor. The carpet is old and stained from work shoes, muddy rain-boots and paw-prints. Dusk's prints.

The old fairy wolf has been coming here since that first night I dream-walked into Bella's life. No doubt her lupine guardian saw the need to suss me out, and when he learned I'm not a threat he made himself comfortable in my home.

At least the old wolf is accepting of me. I suck on my smoke and exhale more poisonous fumes. Maybe I should take that as a compliment? I shrug and stare down the hallway. If only Isabella could see the same thing inside me that Dusk sees.

Deciding that it's best to keep moving, I push away from the door and trudge to my room. I don't bother with the lights. I can see just fine in the dark and extinguish my cigarette, dumping my clothes on the floor before stepping into the bathroom.

Hot water pelts my face and body the minute I step into the shower, sluicing away my cares and steam fills the cubicle. I don't care if the walls get moldy. They already are.

Pressing my forehead to the slick tiles I groan as the scalding stream flays my scars. I hiss and clench my fists. It fucking hurts but oh Gods it feels so good at the same time. Pleasure and pain clash and tangle inside me, travelling on a wave of heat through my veins. Bursting in my loins. My cock hardens, begging me to stroke it and drown in my rapture.

I've always been weak-willed. Testing myself around Lola and Fierra was just a lie. This is who I am. This is how I express myself and show my love. Through my touch and my body because words aren't always enough.  

“Oh Bella, my Dove, why can't you love me as Zae does?” I close my eyes and run my fingers down my chest. Gently tugging on my nipple rings and feeling the neat strip of hair. My fingers are so sensitive. They tingle as I explore myself, taking my time enjoying everything I have to offer. There's no need to rush. Zae isn't coming home for at least another day, and I have endless hot water here.

I can touch myself all night if I want to, and I'm not hurting or disappointing anyone I love.

I trace my belly-button and suck on my lower lip as my hand slides further down. It's so easy to envision I'm not alone in here. I've always had a wild imagination. I like to think that's why I'm a good lover. I know I'd make Isabella happy, not only in my bed either. Just as I've tried with Zae. All she has to do is let me.

In time she will, Nate. Be patient.

“Oooh yes,” I groan out loud as I cup my balls and caress the hairless skin. So soft and smooth, like a woman's flesh. Like Bella's delicate flower.

“Oooh fuck.” I wrap my fingers around my pole and gently squeeze it, imagining that I'm inside her. Feeling her tight sheath fluttering around me. Will she scream and come as quickly as Zae does? Fuck, I hope she enjoys me. I really don't want to hurt her.

I pant as I stroke my aching member, spreading the fluid that leaks from my tip before the water washes it away. Perhaps I should take Zaenack in front of her, and maybe let him work her up with his fingers and tongue first? Then she'll know, from the look in his eyes and the noise he makes, how incredible I feel.

What woman would deny the fire between her legs?

“Uh-huh. Oh Bella... I want you. So much.” My strokes are swifter, harder and I roll my hips as I thrust into my fist. Riding the edge of bliss. My first spurt shoots from my slit, splattering the wall and catching me off-guard.

No! Not yet, Nate. Don't come yet. But it's already too late. I shake and moan as the pleasure clenches my insides, and fuck my fist. Milking myself dry.

“Shit. I need to work on that, I think,” Laughing at myself, I collapse against the wall and run a trembling hand over my face.

“I don't want Bella calling me a one-minute wonder.” I snort because it sounds so ridiculous but it's a sad reality. Ever since Matthias tortured me, my body and my mind haven't been the same. I've become so sensitive, it's like I'm young and inexperienced all over again.

But the weird thing is, most of the time I'm fine with Zaenack. What's up with that?

“I don't fucking know,” I mutter and wash off, before stepping out of the cubicle. Soft clouds of mist envelop the mirror, muting the harsh light. My gaze wanders to the towel racks, and the fuzzy robes hanging behind the door. All red and embroidered with mine and Zae's initials. Soon Isabella will have her own robe and towel set to match ours. But right now I have other things to worry about.

Like my starving blades.

Continued in Chapter 13