Lady Of Namek
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina
If there was one thing I was incapable of, it was shutting the fuck up.
I physically couldn't ever find the will to shut my mouth and it was almost always for the worse.
It'd gotten me in nothing but trouble growing up, and these days, it was no different.
It would seem as though the Russian tyrant in charge of all these prissy men was no where to be seen this evening.
Ignoring me, I suppose.
And men, being the pathetic creatures they were born to be, had taken the opportunity to run their mouths. With a group of them sat across the table, speaking in thick Russian, laughing and lacking any subtly that they're talking about yours truly.
I do a good job of ignoring them and focus on my meal, but when they're laughs start to give me a migraine I realize I'm not the pushover type.
"Why throw insults in a language I can't understand?" I speak through my mouthful and rise a brow at the group of men who all worked for my faux fiancé. "That's no fun."
I'd spent the majority of the day in my room, avoiding any and all human interaction, but my desire for a food had dragged me down to dinner.
I'd entered the room full of Adrik's men and it'd gone silent, all of them turning to look at me, with unwelcoming glares and whispers like a bunch of mean school girls glaring at the bitch that slept with all their boyfriends.
I'd laugh if I wasn't so annoyed.
The ones that are speaking quiet down as well as all the other men at the table who all turn to look at me, the look on their faces clear that they aren't going to give me what I want.
They're master wasn't here meaning they thought they could act however they wanted to.
"You, Buzzcut." I point to a nearby man who'd remained silent the entire time,"What are these little bitches saying about me?"
For a long moment he watches me eat my sandwich before finally he speaks, his voice reserved with a slight accent. "They say you're probably not even good at whoring with the way you're still kept in the room of the tower instead of in Adrikos wing."
I snort out a laugh, "That's what they're bitching behind my back about?"
Leave it to bitter men to come up with the most boring insults.
"They also joke of your family." He shifts almost uncomfortably,"They say your mother was an Italian man's whore and you, a bastard."
And this is precisely why I avoid human interaction. Because the majority of the time, I find myself fighting the desire to kill.
It's exhausting.
I chew the rest of my food slowly and look towards the men sat along the table, all quiet now and staring at me. I can't slaughter them without having every simple minded man in this room jumping in, so for the first time in my life, I decide to be the bigger person.
I turn to the first man in the group of pathetic gossipers. "Your mother should have swallowed you."
His face reddens, my lips stretch into a sweet smile.
They wanted to joke? I could joke.
I take a bite of my sandwich, chew and then turn to the man next to the first. "I bet your mother tried to abort you and failed miserably."
That smile of mine only grows at the look on his face.
"You." I point to the next man and run my eyes across his form above the table, "I bet your mother shat you out of her asshole."
The next man looks about ready to fight me with his face so red, I snort. "I know your mother fucked a pig and had you."
"And you," And finally to the last man who'd been involved in that little conversation, I soften my voice and throw him a look of sympathy. "Well, I guess I don't have to say much aside from the fact that everyone in this room is painfully aware that your mother dropped on your head one too many times as a baby."
There are a lot more men in the room deserving of my jokes, but when I get a look at the rest of them, all speechless and blinking at me, laziness overcomes me.
I lean towards a man who's just had a steak placed on his plate, it sizzles with flavour and the smell is just too divine to pass up. Which is why I take the stunned silence as an opportunity to reach forward, stab my fork into the meat and drag it onto my plate.
I guess no one finds my jokes funny, which is hard to believe, considering I find them hilarious and can barely contain myself from cracking up as I cut up the steak and proceed to enjoying my meal.
It's only when I finish my food do I look up to the room of men. Most glare at me, others begin to breathe heavily like they're minutes from strangling me.
It's all music to my ears.
Being the most hated in the room spiced up my life and gave me something to continue to work towards.
Grabbing a bread roll, I take a bite and look to the group of men I'd just shared jokes with. They all look about ready to murder me. "That was fun, wasn't it?"
Silence. It's deadly and menacing.
That is until another man grows the balls to speak directly to me. "You are a bitch."
I turn my attention towards him. "You speak to your mother with that mouth?"
His face turns grim and he flickers his eyes away.
"Shut up." The man next to him glares at me. "His mother has just passed."
His statement really shouldn't make me smile this much. "I guess miracles really do exist."
And that creates an uproar of shouts all from the men around me. Like a chorus of symphonies, I listen as I slowly rise to my feet and speak over all of them.
"I've got another joke," most of the men quiet down, "You wanna hear it?" I ask, my voice dripping in anticipation.
No one looks like they want to hear my joke.
I decide to share it anyways.
Turning to the man who'd called me a bitch, I smile. "I bet your mother died to get away from you."
He jumps up and prepares to lunge at me and that's when the real uproar starts.
All the men around stand up, and like a bunch of headless bulls barrel past each other towards me, but in doing so clash with each other.
I snag one last dinner roll and slip out of the room, unnoticed and unscathed while the riot in the dining room echos through the halls.
I wonder if Adrik knew of how nasty his men were acting towards his dear fiancé. Would he care?
If not for the sake of my well being - which he's always so clearly concerned with, then the sake that those men feared him far too much to risk pulling that shit on someone they were convinced he cared about.
If proved that they weren't buying our marriage.
Why would they? Adrik and I barely interacted unless in public, we didn't sleep in the same room, nor did we ever speak to each other behind closed doors.
Oh well, not my problem.
Finishing my dinner roll, I find myself wandering the halls into the library in hopes of catching sight of the man in charge of all these Russian asshats. Not because I need to see him, but because I've set out for a win.
Only when I do make it into the library, I find it empty save for the two duplicates sat on the couch, discussing something I can't be bothered to give a fuck about.
I waste no time with pleasantries. "Where is he?"
Defensive as ever, Dima stands and narrows his eyes at me. "Not here."
Ignoring him, I turn to Feo and raise a brow. He was always the weaker link.
Feo's eyes flicker out the window for the briefest of moments before back to me, in almost nervousness.
It's a dead giveaway that his brother is lying.
The windows are so large I can see through them from where I stand. Aside from the gardeners prepping the gardens and acres of greenery, my eyes move to the modern structure attached to the castle that's now complete.
"You both are shit liars." I muse spinning around and heading towards the door, "Could it be that my soon to be husband is avoiding me?" I gasp placing a hand to my chest.
I don't wait to hear any of them out, I descend the stairs in the library and exit through one of the numerous exits, this one leading towards the west wing.
Footsteps follow as I explore the newest hall of the manor, brand new glass lines both the walls, but my attention is on the large black double doors at the end of the hall.
Just as I reach, though, Dima steps into my path, "He doesn't want to see you."
I supposed as much.
"Ouch." I pout, side stepping him and reaching for the door that proves to be locked.
"He won't let you in." The annoying ass behind me speaks.
My eyes trail up the wall to where a camera sits, red flash blinking down at me and I just know the man is watching.
I'd driven him to avoidance.
It was oddly satisfying. I'd clearly had such an affect on the man that he didn't want to see me.
I take a step back and train my eyes on the camera, a small smile making its way onto my lips. "Tell him that he cant avoid me forever."
And deciding to be the bigger person once again, I retreat up to my room, but not before stealing Dima's wallet, and dispersing his cards in various places across the manor on my way up.
Adrik was avoiding me, and I'm certain it's because the events of last night were affecting him.
I'd be surprised if they weren't, I mean, despite his abnormal tendencies, he was attracted to me, I'd felt it. Multiple times.
I highly doubt him edging me to the point where I wanted to combust hadn't affect him in the slightest.
The thought of last night stirs a sexual frustration I can't seem to shake by the time I get to my room. It gets so bad that I debate digging through my suitcase for my vibrator and getting myself to my climax.
I decide against it and choose to shower first.
I'd had a long day and being the bigger person was tiring.
Only the minute I walk into my bathroom, and flicker on the lights, all my patience goes to hell as I catch glimpse of what's in there.
"What the fuck."
The bitch in my tub startles and her wild eyes fly up to me. "Have you ever heard of knocking?!" She shrieks.
"Why the fuck would I think to knock to get into my own bathroom?" I grit through my teeth. As if this shut couldn't get any fucking weirder, the door was unlocked and the lights were off. "What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?"
Natasha sits up, her dainty pale shoulders peeking out of the water as she sighs as if the answer is obvious." Washing away all my sins."
I roll my eyes. "Take your sins and get the fuck out of my room."
"This isn't your room." She snaps, sinking back into the tub and resting her head back. "It's mine."
I stare at her and subconsciously take a step forward. I had half a mind to hold her head beneath the water and drown her. It'd get rid of her and give me something to occupy myself with.
But once again, laziness overcomes me.
"Shouldn't you be in your boyfriend's room." She spits the word with so much bitterness that I can't help but smile at her clear inner turmoil.
"He's not my boyfriend." I say softly, making my way towards her.
She perks up at me, her eyes snap open and fill with genuine hope. "Really?"
"Yeah," I smile, squatting down to level my face with hers. "He's my fiancé." The gleeful look drops into a sour one but I'm not done. "And you know what, you're right. I should be in his room. After all how else will we fuck, continuously?"
Her face scrunches up into horror and I smile. "On every surface we can."
With a gasp, Natasha covers her ears. "You will not!"
"And who knows." I stand and straighten myself out. "Maybe I'll take Petunia with me to watch-"
"You wouldn't!" She screams.
I slowly retreat. "I would." And then I turn around and walk into the room while she calls after me.
"You lover stealing skank!"
I don't bother to stay in the room, knowing better than to trust myself in a space within two feet of the psyche ward escapee.
Instead, I pack a bag with all my valuables and take a trip down the stairs, past a few hallways until I'm standing before those large black doors once again.
I knock, he doesn't answer but the camera on the corner of the wall moves an inch, and I know he's watching.
I knock again. No answer.
I resort to banging on the door, obnoxiously.
It isn't long before two guards are turning the corner and making their way towards me. "Hey! You can't be here."
How convenient.
I look up to the camera.
He wanted to play, I could play.
Ignoring them, I pull out my phone and type away at it while reading the words aloud. "Dear diary, who knew Adrik Kozlov could be such a freak." I don't look up from my phone but the men pause and I feel their interested gazes glued to me. "Yesterday, he took me out to the club, pulled me down onto his lap and edged-"
The door behind me gives a few clicks before it unlocks and I stop, feeling his eyes on me from behind, while his voice booms with a natural command down the hall. "ostavlyat'."
(leave)
I watch the two men turn to leave and only then do I spin around to come face to face with the man who's single handed responsible for this case of blue balls I'm supporting.
He eyes me with those sharp ones, brimming with annoyance. "Go away."
I smile and walk forward until I'm past the threshold, but he blocks me from entering with his large body.
"I don't known exactly what I did to deserve this," I sigh up at him. "But I feel pretty fucking accomplished knowing that the big bad Adrik Kozlov is avoiding little old me."
"I'm not." He draws his gaze to the hallway behind me then back down to me. "You're not that special."
I narrow my eyes in challenge, he'd masked the unbothered look to a tee, but I knew my mere presence was affecting him. "Then let me in."
He stares at me, defiant and stubborn as I stand in his personal space, something he doesn't seem to bat an eye at.
Until finally, he seems to register my body so close to his and takes a step back, reluctantly letting me inside.
The door clicks shut behind me, signifying that i'd entered his controlled space, he could do anything to me in here.
I enter the room and take it all in, my eyes moving around in slight awe.
While the rest of the castle was old, eerie, and extremely dated with historic pieces and finishes, this space wasn't.
It was every bit of a modern loft. The space was all open, a den, dining room and kitchen all opened up in the same space.
Dark walls, dim lights, black marble and expensive furniture. This place was far more intimate than any room in the manor.
It was all sleek, simple, and spotless.
With a wall of windows, blacked out with one way film looking out into the yard, I can't help but grow to instantly love the space.
"Damn." I whistle, "You've got it real nice up here whilst us peasants are left to live in ancient times."
He ignores me, but his gaze bores into my head from behind. "What do you want."
I spin around to look at the man.
His suit today is in its signature navy color, his tie perfect against his crisp white dress shirt. A hands slipped into his pocket, and his posture is straight, his face glaring down at me like an unwanted guest invading his space.
So serious, so confident, so dominantly man.
Its then I know just exactly how I'm going to get myself a win. "I'm moving in." I declare.
"You're not." He responds firmly.
"Your men are growing suspicious of us." I drawl, walking towards the plush couch and running my hand along the soft surface of it.
He watches me. "I'll make other arrangements."
"It's in the contract, is it not?" I murmur, his previous words coming back to me. "We'll move in together when construction on your wing of the manor is done."
I slowly make my way back towards him, and with each step I take closer to him, the taller he stands. I pause, begin to truly examine him and realize that he's grown tense, uncomfortable even.
"Why the sudden change in heart, Kozlov?" I tilt my head, and step back into his personal space, before adjusting his tie so that it's misaligned, "Am I messing with your head too much?" I flicker my eyes down and pause on his crotch when I say the word 'head', and then bring my eyes up to his, my meaning clear as day.
"I don't like to share." He responds evenly.
"Learn to." I pat his chest, and walk away from him to examine the kitchen. "We're getting married."
Black cabinetry lines the walls, while black marble stretches across the counter tops that are void of any clutter. "Speaking of our marriage, where's our bedroom?"
I can only imagine the turmoil going on in his head as he narrows his eyes at me. "Nyet." He snaps, his voice harsh. He hates the idea so much that he doesn't even realize he isn't speaking English. But I've heard enough Russian to know thats a hard no.
Using my expert like ignoring skills, I explore the lone staircase upstairs and find my way into the single room up there.
It's dark, grand and minimalistic, with various shades of navy and black, while heavy drapes line the various windows, some of which open out into a balcony.
I move towards the bed and set my bag down while he appears across the room from me.
I don't have to look for the bathroom, seeing as it's a cut out, void of a door. I glimpse into the room. Unlike the bathroom I'd been forced to use, this one is new, updated with a shower so big I'm sure Adrik looks semi normal in.
I pull out my vibrator and walk into the bathroom, set it on the counter before moving back out to dig through my bag.
"You're not moving in." He walks forward, until he's standing on the other side of the bed.
Lifting a brow, I bend over and slip off my sweatpants, tossing them across the room on the floor like I would at home. "Watch me."
A muscle in his jaw ticks as his eyes angrily trail down my form clad in an oversized band t-shirt, one I couldn't give two fucks to listen to.
I then undo my hair from its bun and slowly make my way into the bathroom to wash my hands.
I sense him behind and prove to be right when I glance into the mirror to see him leaned against the archway, arms crossed in nonchalance, yet features hard. "Take your shit out of my space, Ademaro. I'm running low on patience."
"Our space." I correct, drying my hands, having too much fun riling the man up. "And stop acting like the idea of me using your shower doesn't turn you on."
I turn around and when I do so, he's closer than before, looking moments from snapping. "You're the most unattractive woman I've ever laid eyes on." He grits out, eyes so dead set on mine that I almost think he believes those words.
Almost.
I tilt my head and tsk him. "Liar." A small smile plays on my lips, "You've made more eye contact with my tits than with me in the past few days." It's an exaggeration, but not a lie.
He narrows his eyes down at me. "What tits?" His words don't sting, not when he takes a step closer, so obviously drawn to me.
I don't say another word, I don't have to, not when my tits can speak for themselves. Instead, I reach down and in one fast motion, lift my shirt over my head.
I toss the fabric somewhere behind me, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. A thong, and a bra in the matching shade of black, it's by no means overly promiscuous, but my boobs perk out of them enough to disprove his point.
The tension in his body doesn't dissipate as he forces his gaze on mine. I wait for him to sneak a glance, like I'm sure he'll eventually do, but it's as though he's got the self restraint of a nun because he continues to train his stare on my face alone.
Until finally, he glances at the mirror behind me, his gaze No doubtedly clashing with the sight of my ass in a thong, which is why he flickers it away. "Look me in the eye and say that again." I taunt in a low sultry voice.
He seems to have had enough of me when he grasps my throat in his hand and pulls me so close he's not able to stare at my tits unless he physically strains his head down "I don't find you attractive in the slightest." He rasps, his chest heaving, eyes boring into mine.
Yet his eyes hold a darkness to them, swimming with a depth I know desire resides in.
I grip his wrist and dig my nails into his flesh. We're so close that without my heels he's so much taller than I am. I hate it. "Now say it like you actually mean it."
He squeezes my neck once, twice, and on the third time, holds the pressure in place until my chest starts heaving with uneven breaths. "I do mean it."
I push myself closer, forcing our fronts to come into contact.
His erection rests against my abdomen, hard and so incredibly large - something I refuse to ever admit aloud.
And when I rise on my tippy toes, that hardness slides down my navel, the only sign of reaction I get is the slight heaviness to his next exhale. "It's hard to believe you when your dicks hard for me."
There's a moment he's stunned into silence, one where his eyes cloud over and for the briefest of moments it's like he's succumbing to the truth, but it's gone in an instant.
He pushes me away and puts meters of distance between us, while his self control stays in tact when he refuses to look down at me. "Get out of my bathroom, Ademaro." He rasps, a low threat. I'd say it were sexy had it been anyone else.
A slow smile creeps onto my lips as I reach a hand back to unclasp my bra. It's that movement that seems to catch his eye and cause his hard set gaze to stray.
Stray down my hair thrown over my shoulder, stray down to my heaving chest where my nipples poke through the thin fabric of my bra and finally, stray down my abdomen to the little patch of fabric covering my pussy.
His jaw, set and so sharp from the way he'd been clenching it, flexes. "Don't." His voice is so low and deep it almost sounds strained.
I wet my lower lip as the quiet snap of the clasp of my bra coming undone fills the space between us.
His eyes snap up to mine, angry and beyond fed up.
"You're free to leave." I remind him, my voice low and sensual as the material slowly begins to slide off my body.
He stares at me for a long moment, contemplation and conflict flashing through those crystal blue eyes before it's wiped clean.
And before my bra can even hit the floor, the man's turning around and walking out of the bathroom.
I exhale a harsh breath, suddenly aware of how breathless I feel and with a clouded, desire induced mind, disregard my thong in the pile with my bra on the floor, adjust the lights in the bathroom to a warmer, lower glow and make my way to the shower.
It stretches along the entire far wall, the only thing separating it from the rest of the room being a glass barrier, with a cut out entrance at the end of it.
Far too preoccupied thinking about what had just happened, I distractedly turn up the dial to scalding hot, letting the glass fog up slightly before lowering the temperature to a bearable one and using all of his shit to wash myself.
I use his shampoo, his conditioner, but decide against his body brush when I use his body wash.
Instead, I begin to lather the soap in my hands, my movements haltering for a moment when I feel someone else in the room.
Alarm bells don't blare in my mind, but the burn of his gaze on me through the semi fogged up glass does.
I turn around to see him standing there.
Blazer shrugged off, tie gone too, Adrik Kozlov stands across the room in a crisp white dress shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, slacks dark, and tightened around his crotch where his erection stands proudly and hands slipped in his pocket.
His dark hair lies almost messy atop his head, as though he'd ran those hands of his through it one too many times. His sleeves are evenly rolled up, veins running down his forearms, while his watch glimmers beneath the dimmed down lighting.
I can barely make out the crazed look in his eyes through the light, but when I do adjust, and wipe a section of fog that allows me to see his face, I make out how he's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the room.
I don't know what to do, except for continue on like his presence doesn't affect me.
I start with my arms, then my neck, lathering the soap across every inch of my skin, keeping my eyes trained on him and his every movement, until he takes a slow step closer and trails his gaze down to watch my hands as they move lower.
My hands smother the soap down my breasts, that heave beneath the heaviness of his stare.
The glass is still semi fogged up but he's still able to make out the fine details of my naked body.
And despite his self control from before, he doesn't make any move to subtle his stare as he watches my hands smother the soap over the swells of my breasts.
His gaze is like none I'd witnessed before.
It's heavy, so intense, and as thought he's watching every little movement and engraining it to his memory.
He's observant, so observant that he wets his lower lip as my fingers skim over my nipples, a clear sign of interest. They harden and grow sensitive beneath his stare, he must realize it with the way he tilts his head to the side slightly and continues to watch.
They grow so sensitive I can't help but run my fingers over the hardened skin, again and again, circling and watching his gaze burn with satisfaction, until I'm so turned on, I bite back a moan.
It's like his eyes take control of my hands and his gaze guides my movements.
When he moves down to look at my abdomen, my hands move to smother the soap down there, when they move back up to my boobs, my hands do to and when his gaze zeros in on my nipples, I can't help the way my fingers slightly pinch and tug at them.
And finally when he's done torturing me, his gaze slowly moves down the length of my body, pausing at the most intimate part of me. My fingers trail down but despite the desire to, I don't touch myself. Instead I bend over, and wash my legs, down to my feet.
I rise back up to my full height and drop my hands to my sides, my eyes unmoving from his.
I'm turned on. He knows it.
He's turned on. I know it.
There's a challenge in the steam filled air between us. One that neither of us want to succumb to.
Tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, Adrik Kozlov makes the first move when he walks towards the sink and without breaking eye contact, reaches for my vibrator, before slipping it into his pocket.
His eyes hold a dark smug gleam, the same look his face had contoured into when he'd last edged me.
Adrik doesn't speak, nor does he have to. Not when his eyes so clearly communicate his thoughts.
I've got your only source of pleasure." His gaze taunts.
But unlike last night, I don't let him win.
I step forward and with my hand, wipe at all the condensation on the glass, exposing myself to the man.
The smug look slowly dissipates as my body distracts him enough for him to trail his gaze down to take in everything from my heaving chest to my dripping core.
With a challenging look of my own, I graze my thumb over my nipples, once, twice, before I really retaliate.
My hand moves down the smooth skin of my stomach, following the water cascading down my form. I don't stop, moving lower until my fingers are skimming my clit that's sensitive to the touch beneath his gaze as the memory of what he'd done yesterday resurfaces.
Surprise flashes through his gaze.
Despite the act, there's no embarrassment that surfaces at the thought of what I'm doing. Not when he can't seem to take his eyes off me.
He takes another step towards me, coming so close that we're merely separated by the glass of the shower so he can watch me.
He doesn't just look at me, though.
He takes in every little detail of me, everything from the beauty mark across my left breast to the way my fingers work at my core enough to the point where I'm slumping back into the shower wall, and suppressing a moan.
It's so intense, I briefly have the inkling to squirm.
I merely play with my clit, drag my nails over the sensitive flesh and work myself in a way I know no man is able to. And when I can't take the heaviness of his gaze on me anymore, a soft moan escapes my lips.
His eyes snap up to my face at the sound of it.
Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I tip my head back against the wall, maintain eye contact with him, until I'm able to bring myself to a climax with the stimulation and heat of his heavy gaze alone.
My back arches off the wall, my lips part and with a soft muffled noise, I tip my head under the water and let the high wash over me and my shaking limbs stronger than I'd ever had before.
He doesn't take his vibrant eyes off me. I can't tell if he's angry, riled up, or frustrated.
Perhaps all of the above.
I'd caught him off guard, and one upped him.
He didn't win.
I swirl my fingers in my release, without breaking his gaze, don't even bother to shut off the water and walk out of the shower before slowly approaching him.
His ego kicks in when he suddenly refuses to look down at me, but I don't care. Not as I step so close to him that the water dripping off me begins to dampen his shirt. Not as his chest begins to heave as he stays put.
Hands wet, Adrik doesn't touch me, but he doesn't not let me touch him.
Eyes dazed and half lidded, I look up at him and smooth my fingers coated in my own cum across his lower lip.
I take my time, his lips are a light pink, and soft, while he stands rigid and when I'm done, I bring my fingers up to my lips, slip them into my own mouth and suck them clean.
He watches me, eyes lidded with trickles of something I can't pin and it stirs something in my stomach.
"The next time you jerk yourself off." I croak, getting up on my tippy toes to hover my lips above his. His breathing remains steady, but his harsh exhales give him away. "You won't be able to stop yourself from thinking about me."
He doesn't say a word. He simply hardens his gaze.
A slow smile stretches my lips as I whisper my words across his. "I win."
𓆩❤︎𓆪
GUYS THE AUNTIES HAVE FOUND ANDREW TATE AND HAVE STARTED TO REPOST HIM ON THEIR WHATTSAPPS AND FACEBOOKS 💀
my mom watches the vids and I'm realizing that they all have no idea who he rly is 😭
Anyways, I'm so envious of everyone going to see Taylor Swift bc not only do they get to see her live but they also get to see Gracie Abrams😭 like bro I WISHHHH
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ANYWAYS HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER <333 ily