The Counterfeit Lover (War of Sins Book 3)
The Counterfeit Lover: Chapter 27

A few days later and though we tried to put the incident behind us since no one got hurt, I still can’t help but dwell on it. If someone is out there, gunning for me, then I need to be at my strongest.

It doesn’t help that my drug appointment is almost upon us and I’ve been more restless than usual. The thought of being out for a night, being vulnerable to an attack makes me want to break into a sweat.

I’ve already recruited more security personnel and I’ve assigned them around the area for maximum coverage.

The only thing that I’ve been wary to do, but which might be necessary in the future, had been adding some in-house guards. With how precarious the situation is, we need the best type of security, and that might mean having someone next to us twenty-four seven.

Still, I haven’t taken that last step for fear it could make Noelle uncomfortable to have a stranger in the house.

‘Soooo,’ Noelle comes into our bedroom, all rosy cheeks and blinding smile. ‘Tonight it’s my turn to play nurse, right?’ she raises a brow just as her nimble fingers pull at the string holding her robe together.

Dropping it to the floor, she takes a step forward so I can get a full view of her outfit.

Fuck. Me.

She put on a fucking nurse outfit. One that leaves almost nothing to the imagination.

Yeah, definitely no strangers in the house.

Her shirt has a zipper in the middle, which she’d pulled down to expose most of her chest, her generous cleavage emphasized in the most delectable way. My eyes roam lower, to the mini skirt that hikes up her shapely legs and that gives me the barest hint of her ass.

Damn.

I’m already on edge, but that… That makes me want to jump off a fucking cliff.

‘Pretty girl,’ I groan when she steps further into the room, her hips swaying from side to side as she plays with a stethoscope around her neck.

I gulp down, suddenly not even knowing where to look. Do I focus on her tits? Her ass? Her legs? Her…

‘Eyes here, Blue,’ she suddenly demands, pointing two fingers to her face.

‘You’re playing with fire, Noelle,’ I rasp out.

She knows how out of control I get while on drugs—how brutish and how unlike myself. And she most definitely knows that I’ll likely have only one thing on my mind—especially with her here.

‘Not really,’ she shrugs as she comes closer to me. So close I can fucking smell her. ‘I’m just showing you how well I’ll take care of you. I take my duties very seriously, you see.’

‘You’re a goddamn tease,’ I say as I wrap my arm around her tiny waist, pulling her towards me.

‘No,’ she whispers, her eyes on mine. ‘I’m just giving you a taste of what’s to come,’ she whispers just as she takes hold of my hands, bringing them lower to her ass.

My palms mold to her ass cheeks as I pull her closer to me and in between my spread thighs.

‘So this is your version of cheering me on?’ I raise a brow, kneading her flesh as she licks her lips, her eyes on me.

‘You know I’m your biggest cheerleader,’ she whispers as she moves my hands yet again, this time lower where her skirt ends.

I continue to look at her in question though I know exactly what my little minx wants.

‘I’ll always be there for you. Whether you know it or not,’ she continues, her hands suddenly in my hair as she plays with a few wild strands, twirling them around her fingers as she gazes down at me, conviction shining so brightly in her eyes.

Damn right she is my biggest cheerleader—my biggest champion. But she’s also my biggest motivation.

To do better. Be better. Strive for better.

From the beginning, this hasn’t been just an emotional journey but also a psychological one. I’ve been tested time and time again, and the subject had always been the same—myself.

As ironic as it sounds, I’ve always failed.

But as I look at her playful smile and feel the closeness of her body to mine—the way our hearts beat into sync—I know what my next steps are.

I need to become a better man not only for her but also for myself. I need to become at peace with myself in order to replace the calm I’ve been looking for all along—that tranquility that I could always spot in the distance but never quite grasp.

That starts with knowing myself—getting intimately acquainted with the good and the bad. And this is the first step. Confronting my addiction and the ghosts of my past.

‘I know that,’ I give her a smile as I trail my face up the curve of her neck, bringing my lips to her flesh in a light peck—enough to cause her skin to erupt in goosebumps.

I continue to pepper her with ghost-like kisses until I reach her lips.

Her eyes are already glazed with desire, her mouth slightly parted as a harsh breath escapes her.

Teasing her, I enjoy the sound of her errant breathing and her pounding heartbeat—both music in my ear and chocolate on my tongue.

As I note her frustration mounting, I lean in, meeting her lips with mine just as I squeeze on her ass. Using one hand to keep her in place, caging her between my legs, I use the other to explore what hides under her skirt.

And to my—utterly pleasant—surprise, nothing hides there.

‘You didn’t wear your panties, pretty girl. Are you being a bad, bad girl for me?’ I murmur against her lips, drawing back just enough to watch the play of emotions on her features and the way every touch elicits a small gasp from her puffy lips.

‘I need to be bad so you’ll be worse,’ she whispers, barely managing to get the words out.

I can tell she came here with an entire arsenal at her disposal, likely having an entire plan on how to entice me before she went for the kill.

Luckily for me, my wife seems to have a glaring weakness.

My touch.

And as I bring my hand between her legs, I confirm just how mindless she becomes—how she forgets herself at once the moment I touch her.

‘I need,’ she whimpers when I slide one finger along the seam of her equally puffy nether lips, her wetness sticking to my skin and bathing me in her scent and that luxurious feel of her.

‘What do you need?’ my voice comes out harsher than intended. While I’d done my best to arouse her, I’ve been anything but indifferent. My muscles are tense—tenser the usual.

With my drug session hanging over my head, my reactions are all more intense, more out of control even as I try to keep myself in check.

‘Raf,’ she moans, arching her back when I push a finger inside of her just as I brush my thumb against her clit, rubbing her steadily just as I thrust into her.

‘I need…’ she repeats, each time taking a deep gulp of air as she’s unable to finish her words.

‘Tell me, Noelle. Tell me,’ I suddenly demand, bringing her flush against my chest as I continue to pet her sweet little pussy, making her mewl in pleasure.

‘I need…’ she nestles her head in the crook of my neck, turning slightly so her mouth is close to my ear. Then, she utters the filthiest things I’ve ever heard—things she wants me to do to her.

‘Fuck,’ I rasp out loud, increasing the speed of my thrusts just in time to feel her teeth on my skin, biting so hard my dick nearly pops in my pants.

‘Have I shocked you?’ she asks as she leans back, her eyes droopy with satisfaction, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm.

‘You could never shock me, pretty girl,’ I shake my head at her.

Shock is the last thing I feel, not when my own blood is pumping downwards at an alarming speed, the words she’d whispered in my ear becoming dangerous images in my head.

‘I want that animalistic side of you. I want you to lose everything that holds you back. I want you to shed your fears, you morality, your principles—everything until pure want remains. Want for me,’ she emphasizes, taking my hand and bringing it to her mouth, sucking on the finger that just moments ago was buried in her pussy. ‘I want you to take me like a man possessed, Raf. Because only then… Only then…’

‘Only then?’ I ask, my gaze affixed to hers.

‘Only then we’ll be on equal footing,’ she states.

I stare at her, those words echoing in my ears just as the things she’d described play in my mind like a goddamn movie.

‘Let me,’ she murmurs, stepping back to remove the kit from under the bed.

Her movements are slow, deliberate as she takes out all the items in the bag and lays them on the bed, efficiently preparing the syringe before coming to my side.

‘Ready?’

I nod, too entranced by her to be able to form words.

Her lips spread into a sinful smile as she takes my arm, feeling for my muscles before replaceing my vein. Then, as if she’s done this a million times before, she injects the drug into my system.

The effect isn’t always immediate, and taking advantage of that, she quickly puts everything back in place before coming back to my side.

‘I’m going to take care of you, Raf,’ she murmurs lovingly, biting my lower lip as she drapes herself all over me.

‘Fuck me if you’re not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,’ I rasp, my sight becoming slightly distorted. Turning my head, I reach for the cuffs at the end of the bed but Noelle stops me.

‘No cuffs for you tonight, Blue. Just us. Just me and you,’ she drawls in the most seductive voice I’ve ever heard as she gives my cheek a long lick.

Snaking my hand around her waist, I pull her towards me, lips clashing against lips, hands tearing at clothes and bodies moving in an unnatural sync.

Yet even as I replace myself slipping, unlike before, there’s a quiet certitude—I would never hurt her. She’s here now—the object of all my desires and the ghost that’s been haunting me for so many years.

She’s here, and I’m hers.

My vision distorts as something akin to madness takes over.

Her top is off, that flimsy bit of material that was her skirt somewhere on the floor as she’s finally before me in all her naked glory.

My senses, too, are reeling as the drugs slowly seep into my body until I’m one with them—one with this insanity that lives just under my skin.

A blink of an eye and I’m just as naked as she is, her skin rubbing on mine, her heat transferring into me.

‘Fuck,’ I curse against her lips as I hold her captive to me, one palm spread wide on her nape, the other kneading her pert tits.

I swallow her moans and her cries, keeping my last bit of focus on her.

With one push against my shoulders, my back hits the sheets.

She moves sinuously down my body until her tiny hands cup my hard cock, her mouth engulfing me and showing me the true definition of bliss.

My eyes squeeze shut, my pulse drums in my ears. Everything converges in this moment and her little touches.

‘That’s it,’ I hear myself say in a rough voice, my fingers wrapped tightly in her hair. ‘Fuck, you’re so good at sucking cock, pretty girl.’

She pauses momentarily, the flat of her tongue resting against the head as she gives it a few good licks.

‘Only for you, Blue,’ she whispers against my shaft before taking me inside her mouth once more—deeper, faster, wetter.

Pleasure spreads all over my body in never-ending, intoxicating waves. There’s nothing but pleasure and the feel of her as she claims my body and lets me claim hers in return.

Yet the next moment I open my eyes, it’s to replace a completely different scene unfold.

She’s on all fours in front of me, her fingers wrapped around the iron of the bed-frame as she practically yells at the top of her lungs every time I slam into her.

My hands are on her hips, my fingers digging painfully into her softness as I thrust into her like a mad man—like someone who’s lost everything but the desire to own her.

In the back of my mind, I can hear her words—echoes among savage moans.

Lose your fear, your morality, your principles.

There’s that brief moment of awareness, but soon, it all fades away.

‘Mi luz,’ I rasp as I snake a hand over her stomach, holding her in place as I increase the speed of my thrusts. Placing my head to her back, I listen for the sounds of her wild heartbeats and erratic breathing, both growing even more out of control as I continue to ravage her body with the intensity of this fucking.

Because at this moment, there’s nothing else.

No reality, no sense of self, no sense of…anything.

Anything but her.

We’re just two bodies acting out of pure instinct and a spark of kismet.

The room tilts, my eyes opening and closing as I replace myself in yet another shift in position.

My field of vision is blurry, and growing blurrier still, but I can make out the form of her body spread out before me, her hands cuffed to the frame of the bed as she moves from side to side. Her eyes are on me, her teeth raking over her lower lip as she awaits for my next move.

I tighten my hands over her ankles as I spread her legs further, impaling her in one swift thrust.

She lets out a harsh breath as she rotates her hips to angle me deeper inside of her.

‘Please,’ her sweet moan reverberates through the room and surrounds my entire being with a sense of deep satisfaction. Especially when one hand travels up her body, my fingers wrapping around her lovely neck as I hold her securely, controlling each and every breath—each and every sound.

‘You’re mine,’ I declare, the ultimate truth.

I know it. She knows it. My goddamn drug-addled brain knows it.

‘You’re so fucking mine, Noelle. Always mine. Always,‘ I growl, mercilessly pounding into her as I tip her chin up so she can look me in the eye—so she can only see me.

So she can see I’m the only one fucking her. Owning her. Destroying her.

‘So fucking mine,’ I purr as I bring my face closer to hers, inhaling her sweet scent and the way her entire body trembles when she hits her peak. Her walls close around me in the snuggest fit. And as her mouth opens on a half-strained breath, I plunge my tongue inside, tasting her, devouring everything that is her.

My own climax is nearing. I can feel the signs just as I go harder, fucking her unlike I’ve ever fucked her before.

But just as I’m about to come, reality shifts again.

Yet this time… This time all control is wrenched from me.

The first thing I feel is dampness.

My entire body is covered in sweat, but not the type after an arduous workout, or a prolonged lovemaking session. No, it’s the type that clings to my skin, clogging my pores and making me detest living in my own body.

I suddenly move, putting one step in front of the other and noting the room I replace myself in—an ostentatious bedroom with frilly colors and all types of lace. It’s fit more for a woman than a man.

Yet as I continue to walk, looking around and taking everything in, I realize the first odd thing.

It doesn’t feel like…me.

I’m still me, deep inside. But it’s not me in charge. I can watch myself move, but I cannot make myself move.

I’m just a spectator in this sick show.

My mind is my own—my thoughts are my own. But not my autonomy. That is forever out of reach.

As soon as that thought arises, I look down to see the shackles on my wrists.

Were they there before?

I test their strength, surprised by the heavy weight and the way they jiggle as I try to move my hands.

Yet that sound…that sound triggers something within me.

Like lightning flashing in my head, I instinctively know where I am and what is about to happen. And I’m fucking useless to stop it.

Awareness seeps in just like the fact that I’ve watched this scene before me one too many times.

One too many fucking times.

The door screeches open, and as I turn, I replace myself face to face with a foreign man.

His gaze is blank, and in his hands I spot something. A…needle.

I frown, but before I know it, he’s on me, the needle pricking my neck and injecting a strange substance in my body.

Even as I struggle, I’m no match for his strength. Especially since whatever he injected me with makes me drowsy, my previous strength all but gone.

His hand on my nape, he drags me to a bathroom in the corner, shoving me to the ground when he reaches the shower stall. I don’t get to protest as I feel a jet of water all over me.

My mind clamors at me, disorientation and confusion swimming inside my brain as I wildly move my arms around to avoid the direct hit of the water jet.

‘Clean yourself,’ the man yells at me, throwing some liquid soap my way. A few drops hit my eyes, and I squeeze them shut in an attempt to get rid of the sting.

It goes on and on.

The water isn’t cleansing my skin. It’s bruising, scalding and raking at my skin until all I want is to peel the top layer off—anything to stop feeling like this.

Then, like it never happened, it’s over.

I blink as I realize the scene shifted again.

I’m no longer in the bathroom—no longer being tortured with that scorching hot water and the demeaning way in which it sought to clean me.

No, this time I’m already dressed. Still drowsy, but I’m more covered.

Yet as I look down to take myself in, I wish I’d never done that…

A red dress that flows down my body, the garment clearly meant for a woman. Yet here it is. On me.

But more than that there’s a discomfort that has nothing to do with the feminine outfit. Slowly moving my still caged hands, I lift the skirt up, peering down at the underwear biting into my skin…

I blink, thinking my eyes are playing tricks on me.

A black, leather-like contraption hides and almost flattens my entire front. The discomfort is coming from having my genitals squished together to give the illusion that there is nothing there. And as I move, more pain flares from my dick and balls.

Yet that’s not the worst.

Moving the heavy material of the dress to the side, I note that the leather acts like a belt, but as I turn, I note that the back is unlike the front. Only a thin string extends between my ass cheeks, connecting to the front between my legs as the material starts thickening again.

Panic flares inside of me, even more confusion accumulating in my mind.

Is this a dream? A nightmare?

My movements are so sluggish, my thoughts even more so as I barely realize what’s happening, or where I am.

A man clears his throat, and I drop the skirt to the ground, slowly turning to see who it is.

‘Who…’ My mouth is dry, my tongue clicking against my top row of teeth as I try to get some words out.

I know I’m capable of language, yet at this moment even incoherent sounds seem beyond my reach.

‘You did well, Gustav,’ the man continues, coming around to examine me. ‘The resemblance is astounding, is it not?’

Resemblance? What resemblance?

‘His shoulders are too broad, but I guess I can overlook that,’ he mumbles to himself before he stops right in front of me, his fingers tipping my chin up.

‘But the eyes and the lips. Yes, marvelous!’

‘Everything is as you asked, sir. He’s been thoroughly prepared for your enjoyment.’

His lips tip up in a malefic smile.

‘Then you can leave. Tell everyone I’ll be unavailable for the rest of the day.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Some more noise and the door closes shut.

I’m disoriented, but I try my best to root myself in the present and keep my consciousness from slipping from me.

‘I’m Armand,’ the man introduces himself, forcing me to look him in the eye. ‘And from now on it’s going to be just the two of us.’

There’s something about his tone that rubs me the wrong way. I can’t put my finger on it, my thought processes too slow and sluggish. But something inside of me screams to run away.

It’s just that I can’t.

Physically, and mentally. I am bound to the spot.

His hand trails up to my face, his fingers caressing my skin as he gazes down at me with…tenderness? Or something akin to wistfulness.

‘W…’ I try to speak again, but my mouth seems to be forever broken.

There’s only his smile—that smile that gives me the chills. And that’s the last thing I see before I open my eyes again, this time replaceing myself facing a wall.

My breathing is labored, my muscles tense yet relaxed from the effect of the drug.

Still, there’s the unmistakable feeling of being naked. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m wearing a dress, but the skirt had been bunched around my hips, leaving my entire backside revealed. Then there’s still that underwear-belt and the fact that I feel hands trail down my back until they reach the string of the contraption, pulling backwards and releasing it to slap against my skin.

I flinch at the slight pain, and a chuckle permeates the air.

‘You’re going to be a good little slut for me, aren’t you?’ His breath is on my nape, his voice making my vision swim.

I can’t move. I can’t even jiggle my wrists anymore because the cuffs had been locked to the table—all to ensure I would be laid out like an offering.

Fear accumulates in my gut, everything inside of me telling me to run, agony suffusing my being at knowing I can’t.

The only thing I can do is keep my head down and not engage. Hope for everything to be done quickly—as it usually is.

Every time I want to fight. But every time I arrive at the conclusion that fighting will only make it worse. After all, Armand loves it when I’m disobedient. It gives him a reason to do a show of strength and put me back in my place.

Even though I’m not her, he treats me as if I were his wife. And that means that I am to sit quietly in a corner, never speak or argue, and always let him have his way with me. It’s not as if I have much of a choice for any of it since the drugs make me so lethargic I can barely speak, let alone move or be disobedient.

And as that knowledge pours inside of me, so does the fact that I know what’s next—what’s always next.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I can only pray I can hide away in that corner of my mind I’ve built specifically for these situations.

It’s a tiny little corner, but it’s clean and mine. There, I am free to do as I want, think, speak and dream. There…I’m still a person. One who has aspirations and hopes for the future instead of just a doll to be adorned and abused. My body is still mine—only mine and that person I’ll choose to share it with.

Yet even as I try to cling to that tiny space of mine, the pain still has a way of penetrating my mind, making me want to howl in agony—not only at the physical torment but also at the little bits that chip away at my sanity.

Armand continues to laugh, an insidious laugh I’d be able to recognize anywhere. Not only for who owns it but also for what it signifies—the defilement of my soul.

Trailing one finger down the crack of my ass, he pulls the string to the side as he spreads my cheeks.

My cuffs make my position permanent—unchangeable. And as he kicks at my feet, pushing them apart to fit between them, I can’t do anything to stop this from happening.

Not as he lowers his zipper and certainly not as he pushes himself inside of me.

The pain is immediate, and he derives pleasure from it. After all, it’s all he wants. He needs to hear my cries of pain, or the way my lashes coat with tears when I can barely take it anymore.

It’s not the first time, nor is it the last.

‘My sweet little slut. You thought to escape me, didn’t you, Gloria?’ His voice turns savage, and my body tenses as I wait for the blow.

What is he using this time? A cane, a metal bar? I can’t tell anymore.

The pain mingles together. It’s coming from all sides—all directions. Even so, I’m grateful that my body cannot localize it anymore, for then I don’t have to withstand the perpetual knowledge that I’m being violated—that my body is being used in the most foul way against my will.

I attempt to retreat to my hiding place, yet just as I feel as I’m close to reaching it, my reality shifts again.

The pain this time is unimaginable. There’s nothing that doesn’t hurt. Even though my breathing is constricted, and as my brain is slowly trying to feed me information, I realize it’s likely my ribs.

It takes Herculean strength to open my eyes, but even as I do, I can barely see anything. The room is devoid of light, of warmth, and anything a human might require to survive.

There’s only bleakness—so much fucking hopelessness. And it’s all around me, enveloping me like a fine glove and keeping me in its clutches.

I don’t know where I am. In fact, I’m barely aware of myself.

There’s only pain and a drowsiness that makes me titter between a state of semi-consciousness and one of a complete shut-down of my entire being.

As I waver between those two states, I feel something—or, rather, my body detects warmth.

Since coldness is all I know, that hint of warmth threatens to undo me.

And as it slowly seeps into my body, I gain a little more awareness of the situation—maybe a long-lost hope is rearing its head at a hint of light.

But as my consciousness gets a boost with an aching flare of want, of thinking not all is lost, all my hopes are dashed as I get a better grasp of the situation I’m in.

I’m on my back. Cold and laying against even colder ground.

Naked.

There’s not one inch of clothing covering my body, and I replace I can’t move any of my limbs. Like being trapped in my own body—caged by my own flesh—I’m only a spectator, not an active participant.

I try to focus on that bit of warmth, but the more I become in tune with it, the more I realize something is wrong.

Something is seriously, seriously wrong.

Hands run up my stomach, reaching my pecs before going back down. It’s a soothing caress, but so very wrong. I’m already intimately familiar with this type of dynamic and it’s enough to make me want to break out in a sweat—yet I can’t.

I want to slap the hands away, anything to avoid this invasive touch.

I have to wonder if it’s Armand, but he would never be so gentle, nor would he ever try to touch me from the front. Then, his illusion about Gloria would be shattered.

And as this new person touches me lower, grabbing my dick, I realize there’s no way this could be Armand. He abhorred that part of me, and would always go out of his way to convince himself it wasn’t real—that it was merely an accessory.

My muscles are stiff, perhaps too stiff. When I feel those hands getting bolder, touching and caressing me until my dick reacts, I experience a moment of pure panic as I don’t know what’s happening to me—or that this could be happening at all.

Terror engulfs me as this person can somehow get me hard and touch me in the one place I’d thought was still mine.

Yet I can’t move.

I can’t. Fucking. Move.

All I can do is stare at the darkness, feel that accursed warmth as it permeates my skin, every little touch bringing me closer to something—an undefinable something.

Whoever is playing with me must be satisfied when my dick is rock hard, and shock erupts inside of me when lips touch the underside of my shaft before a mouth engulfs the head of my cock, sucking on it.

I blink, my heart jamming in my chest.

But I can’t move.

I’m a prisoner in my fucking body.

I want to run away—hide away. All I know is that I feel more helpless than I’ve ever been, and though I’ve been put in awful situations before when my will had been taken away from me, this is the worst yet. Not only are my senses stripped from me, my sight nonexistent, my hearing barely working. But this is being done to me. Not to Gloria, or any other imaginary woman.

This is done to me.

I don’t even know if the person on the other end is a man or a woman, or if they… My flimsy train of thought is interrupted as I feel movement before more warmth envelops me.

Warm flesh brushes against my cold one.

Gripping my dick in one hand, she—because I finally realize it is a she—positions me to her entrance, lowering herself on me.

My mouth gapes open, my throat working up a protest.

But nothing comes out.

I’m just there. On the cold ground. A piece of meat being used by this woman. And I can’t even tell her how much I detest it. What she’s stealing from me when I thought I still had something left.

This isn’t Armand. This isn’t him just invading my body and punishing me repeatedly for sins not of my own. No, this is someone stealing the only thing I’d thought remotely safe—that still belonged to me.

A storm of sensations erupt in my body. Despite the lethargy, or the fact that my mind is further rebelling against me, I feel everything.

Even my little corner closes the door in my face, remaining shut no matter how much I try to wrench it open. It’s just…locked. And I’m forced to sit still and let this person use me.

Her breath becomes increasingly louder as she lifts herself up and down, fucking herself on me. And the worst thing? It’s clear she’s deriving pleasure from it from the way she’s grasping on to my chest, little moans erupting in this barren place.

I’d never thought I could hate someone so much. More than Armand, more than my brother who purposefully sent me down to this hell.

But I do.

This person. This faceless, nameless person.

I hate her more than I’ve hated anyone in my entire life.

Because she took what was not hers to take.