Chapter 13: Sienna

I didn't think I'd run into him at the club, but now that fate or whatever had brought us together again, I couldn't hold back from getting on his nerves and eventually getting laid.

When he gripped my hand and pulled me away from the crowd, my heart skipped for a moment in fear of what he was going to do to me. Making him jealous was a bad idea, and Fiona had warned me against doing that seconds before I kissed that guy. Funny, I didn't even catch his name; the poor boy was just a pawn to get the big fish mad. And it worked.

After he took me to a room and shut the door, Vlad turned to face me with those blazing eyes, red with anger. I swallowed hard but managed to remain composed. His hand went around my neck, and the way he glared at me somehow turned me on. I smirked faintly, recognizing the look in those eyes when he pushed me to the wall.

His words were watering the ecstasy growing within me, making me weak in my knees.

He was fucking horny, and that made me wet, excited. His desire to take me was palpable in his gaze, and my heart started to race; I knew what would happen next, and I wanted it. I wasn't supposed to fall for his charms after how he'd treated me, but at that moment, I wasn't thinking straight. All I wanted was to get fucked. I wanted it so badly.

The hardness of his erection was brushing against me, and my goodness, that sent shivers down my spine. The man was dashing, angry yet ravishing at the same time, and his furrowed brows didn't detract from his rugged attractiveness.

My body jerked at the feeling of his finger inside me, and I didn't necessarily care that he'd find out how wet I was for him.

"You naughty girl." His baritone melted my heart.

I shut my eyes the moment he rushed at my lips, kissing them with so much fervency. This prompted me to reciprocate the gesture with the same energy, and soon, we were both swooning in a heated passion.

His tongue was twirling in my mouth and mine in his while he simultaneously fingered me with rapid movements.

All I wanted was his cock, and as soon as he plunged it into me, a gasp escaped from my lips. Standing on one foot with the other hanging above his arm, he rammed into me without holding back. His words were laced with possessiveness as he claimed ownership of my body.

Fuck. It felt good having him inside me after so long. I'd honestly missed him; I'd been really starving, and now I couldn't curtail my moans.

His huge cock was working its magic, its length traveling deep inside my wet pussy while I was pressed forward against the wall. With a handful of my hair, he pulled in a way that was both gentle and rough at the same time.

The sound of his groin slapping against my ass was so hot that it got me wanting more hits. His pull on my hair hurt a little, but I liked the sweet pain that came with it. His thrusts were rough and hard—a direct contrast to the last time we'd fucked. Maybe he was fucking me angrily. Yes, he was.

I had pissed him off by making out with that random guy, and now the rage from his jealousy was the fuel burning his drive. It was almost like he was punishing me for being such a naughty girl.

It was rough sex, and frankly speaking, I didn't care about the motive behind this. I was basking in the euphoria of this punishment; the anger was mutual, and I just wanted him to fuck me.

My warm pussy was filled with his cum, and he pushed deeply into me with heavy groans. Seconds later, he pulled out and stepped backward away from me.

Just like that, all that attitude of his that I'd ignored came rushing back into my head. The moment of bliss was over, and the hatred was sinking in again. I was satisfied, and my senses had returned; I could think straight now.

I picked up my panties and slipped into them, adjusting my dress as I felt his gaze on me. Without a word, I walked away and headed to the door; then, I took one last look at him.

He was standing there, watching me in silence, his hands buckling his belt.

The sex was great, and I enjoyed it, but this was going to be the last time I'd ever let it happen again. I hoped that he had his fun because he wouldn't get that with me ever again. I was done with him, and this time, I meant it.

Vlad was toxic, and I deserved better; I deserved better than being treated like trash after sex. Yes, he was a good lover who made me feel things I'd never felt before, but I was obviously not the only woman he'd made feel that way. He'd fucked me and dumped me, then got himself another woman. As though that wasn't enough, he still had the guts to get upset over seeing me with another guy.

He didn't even bother trying to hide his discomfort; no, he went ahead and caused a scene, breaking the poor boy's nose with a single punch. He was a jealous man with anger issues. Big red flag. Hell no!

I couldn't deal with that. Truly, I was done with Vlad.

The door squeaked open at my pull, and I walked out, slamming it shut behind me. Heading down the steps, I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mind was made up; staying away was a good idea. It felt peaceful, and with the way I left him, I'd say we were even now. I smirked.

_________

It had already been a few days since our last encounter at the club—a few days of healing and constant reevaluation.

Yes, a part of me was having a rethink on the decision I had made, and this was because I'd been getting text messages from an unknown number, and the content of the messages indicated that they were from Vlad.

It had been a difficult battle, trying to convince the voices in my head that I was done with him. The inner struggle with this concept had been quite challenging, but I didn't want to overthink things. My mind was made up already.

Vlad had hurt me, and this was simply a coping mechanism for me.

It was a new day, and I was seated at the table in my room, surfing the internet. I'd just gotten off the phone with Fiona not long ago, and although she supported my decision, I could tell that she didn't trust my judgment. We talked about a couple of other things since I didn't want to dwell on the ‘V' subject, as Fiona tagged it.

Since the club, she'd been referring to him as you-know-who . I found it hilarious but never showed it. Vlad, a name that once made my body shiver and my heart skip a beat, now sounded a lot like Voldemort in my ears, hence the reason she stopped saying his name.

I was trying not to think about h, but nothing I attempted to do to distract myself from this gnawing situation worked.

A funny video was playing on the screen of my laptop but I just sat there, watching it but missing out on the humor.

I buried my face in my palms, letting out a frustrated raspberry at my inability to think straight. Hell, I couldn't even enjoy a fucking funny video about hilarious cats, and that shit always cracked me up.

My phone chimed, and another text came in.

Don't bother checking. It's definitely him, a voice said to me.

At least check to know what he wants this time—besides, you're not even sure it's from him, my voice of reason said.

Oh, that text is from him, alright, the other voice said.

I reached out for the phone and saw the message: We need to talk .

It was him.

Told ya.

There was nothing to talk about; why wouldn't he just leave me alone? He'd done enough already, and I'd made a decision to do what was right by me.

He's got it out for you, and trust me, he's not gonna stop, my voice of reason said.

Whose side are you on, anyway?

This isn't about sides; it's the truth. The man is obsessed. Did you forget what he said while fucking you back at the club?

Well, if that were true, then why was he suddenly showing it now? It was already too late. Maybe if he'd shown this much concern after treating me like trash the first time, things would have been different between us.

Wanna know what I think? the other voice began. I think he's just upset that you had the last laugh. You bruised his manly pride. So, there's an 80 percent chance that he'll shatter your heart—again—if you fall for his tricks.

That made sense. It was a bit awkward, but it made sense. What if that was the plan, to get me back so he could have the last laugh?

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…? Well, I wasn't going to let that happen.

But you want him back, don't you? my voice of reason asked.

You need to stop whispering these hints of possibility where there's none!

And you need to stop being so pessimistic all the goddamn time. It's my job to make her see reason even when there isn't any.

It was a war zone in my head, and those pesky little voices wouldn't quiet.

Look, he's too dark, okay? She deserves better!

What happened to always finding the light, even in the deepest darkness?

My voice of reason was seriously kicking it hard, and it was so annoying.

It's different this time.

"Fuck!" I threw my hands into my hair, smoothing it back as I got out of my chair, frustrated. "Time out," I said, shutting the voices out. "Jesus Christ!"

My head was so full and heavy from the constant thoughts that overlapped themselves in my mind.

"Arghh!" I groaned, massaging my temples. It was like I was losing my sanity, and all I wanted to do was scream.

I needed to express these sickening feelings that had me riled up, so I grabbed my paints and brushes.

On the canvas, I let my emotions out, unleashing them all as I painted the darkness, the hatred and love that caused turmoil inside me. Each brushstroke, lighter than the last, seamlessly eased me of these overwhelming emotions, freeing me from their weight.

In no time, the once blank canvas was covered in multiple colors of paints and intricate patterns that conveyed my inner conflicts.

I exhaled sharply, looking at the piece before me. I was no Edgar Degas, but this was my own art. A portrait that came from a dark place, inspired by a mix of pain and pleasure, hatred and love.

I tossed the brush aside and lowered my head, rubbing my eyes then my temples in an attempt to soothe this terrible headache.

For days, a persistent heaviness in my head had plagued me with an occasional migraine that threatened to kill me.

I winced at the pain, pressing my thumbs into my temples in a futile effort to alleviate the throbbing agony. Suddenly, I was hit by a wave of nausea, forcing me to stumble toward the bathroom, my palm flying to my mouth. I pushed the door open and collapsed on my knees in front of the toilet, my body convulsing as I vomited.

What the hell?

I brushed a hand over my mouth, wondering what I ate that might have upset my stomach. Nothing came to mind. Then what was it? Why did I throw up?

Your emotions are heightened, you're experiencing constant migraines, and now, you just vomited, my voice of reason listed.

Then, it hit me.

Hold on a minute.

I recalled what date it was.

Fuck! I'd missed my period by a month.