Page 13 of Claimed By the Pakhan

I sigh, slipping a finger under my sweatpants waistband, feeling how wet I am down there. All of this is abnormal. The thought of sex has never made me soaked through my panties, to the point where I need to take action, just to relieve the burning feeling.

Emil has sex appeal, which is something a lot of people in this city are lacking. Sure, people are attractive, like Luka for example. He has nice eyes, and his friendly face makes him easy to trust, but it’s not enough.

I need an element of danger to feel something real. As far as I can remember, I’ve only known Emil a day, but he ignites something inside of me that has always felt cold.

I remember the way his eyes cut across the kitchen at me earlier. I lost all fucking control. He sees something nobody else does, a side of myself even I don’t fully recognize.

My desire for him triples when I start rubbing my clit. Little whimpers escape my mouth, my pussy so wet I hear a squelching sound as I insert two fingers and shut my eyes, reliving the brief memory of him fucking me.

But the fog drifts through my mind again, turning everything hazy. I focus on what Idoremember, seeing him shove the doctor up against the wall.“My wife,”he had hissed, meaning every single fucking word, like he made the decision one day that I would belong to him, regardless of anyone else’s opinion, even mine.

There’s no logic to my desire, but I feel it anyway, allowing the pleasure to expand and dominate all areas of my body until I’m completely spent, fingering my pussy aggressively on the bed.

My orgasm is the only thing that matters, the entire world resting on my pleasure as I pump the fingers in and out, closing my eyes.

I see Emil standing across from me in the kitchen and imagine I’m rubbing my pussy on his face, experiencing the man without consequence.

I moan when the climax hits me, finger fucking myself until it’s all over. After taking a few moments to catch my breath, I take the fingers from between my legs and rise from the bed.

Time to act natural and pretend that didn’t happen.

Thankfully, I have an excuse, but I’m not sure how long I can use the amnesia card for before it becomes outdated.

In both lives, beforeandafter the accident, I’m drawn to Emil. Perhaps the amnesia is the universe’s way of protecting me, forcing me to turn over a new leaf and accept the fog, since it could be there for a reason.

But as I head out of Emil’s bedroom, I catch a pile of dirty laundry sitting in a basket. I take out various items, examining maternity clothes that, according to the sizes, look like they were bought recently. I lived an entire life with this man. We were doing laundry together, sleeping in the same bed.

I grimace, running the luxury fabric through my fingers. All of these clothes are way out of my budget. I wouldn’t be able to afford clothes like these even if my boss gave me a promotion at work, which means Emil bought them all for me.

Alarm bells ring louder, shaking my eardrums. With my arousal out of the way, the red flags are clear, impossible to ignore. Being financially dependent on a man is like being trapped in a cave with no way out, and I fucking allowed myself to crawl into that cave.

I drop the clothes in a panic, disgusted at myself. Was I ever in love with this guy, or did I marry him because of the sex?

My heart thumps. I stand back up, crawling my hands up the wall to stabilize myself as the room spins once again.

I should get the fuck out of this place while Emil is in his office. I’m still in the dark about what it is he does for work. Men who wear expensive suits and live in obscure locations always have something to hide.

I know that for a fact.

Working as a forensic financial analyst smashes the rose-tinted glasses and opens your eyes to the real world. People break the law on a daily basis, and for some individuals, it’s as easy as breathing.

I stare at the dazzling ring on my finger. I wouldn’t marry a stranger. Once upon a time, I knew this man, so why is he keeping his cards close to his chest?

We’re married. He shouldn’t have anything to hide.

One would think...

But marriages can be complicated, and me being twenty weeks pregnant throws a spanner in the works. It’s easy to create life, but raising the child, keeping them safe, is a very fucking different story.

Very few men are cut out to be fathers. Sometimes, you have to find the strength and run away, putting your children first…

I head downstairs, taking one step at a time, careful not to make too much noise. The wood threatens to creak with each step I take. By the time I make it into the kitchen, I exhale the biggest sigh of relief.

But now I have the challenge of opening the front door without it creaking…

After making sure the coast is clear, I tiptoe through the corridor. Shadows curl along the skirting board, growing closer I pass through the middle section.

My throat closes up the more I hold my breath, refusing to breathe just in case Emil can sense that. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s observant. I hate that about him. People in the city are indistinguishable but at least they go about their day, only looking once, not twice, and never for too long.