CEO’s Regret After I Divorced (Serena and Ryan) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Chapter 12 Hot Dream

Ryan’s POV

"Boss, should I check on Ms. Serena? Make sure she’s doing alright?"Simon’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

And he had picked up on my unspoken concerns, proving once again why he was my most trusted assistant.

I ran a hand through my hair, fighting against the urge to immediately agree. My pride battled with genuine worry.

"Transfer the downtown penthouse into her name," I decided finally. "And make sure she has sufficient funds. She shouldn’t be struggling financially because of our... situation."

Simon nodded without hesitation. "I’ll handle it right away, sir."

"Good. Now leave me," I ordered, needing solitude.

As soon as Simon closed the door behind him, I pulled out my lighter and lit the aromatherapy diffuser myself.

The familiar scent—sandalwood with hints of vanilla that Serena had always prepared—filled the room instantly. Only then did the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.

I stretched out on the leather couch, closing my eyes as the comforting fragrance enveloped me.

Despite my attempts to focus on tomorrow’s meetings, my mind kept drifting back to Serena—her soft smile, the delicate curve of her neck, the way her eyes would light up when she was excited about a new design.

And the familiar scent carried me deeper into relaxation until sleep finally claimed me.

In my dreams, she came to me.

"Ryan," dream-Serena whispered against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. Her body pressed against mine, soft curves fitting perfectly against my harder frame.

"You’re soaked, sweetheart," I growled, my hands sliding beneath her silk nightgown to find her slick and ready. My cock hardened instantly at the evidence of her desire.

"Only for you," she breathed, her eyes darkening with need as she straddled my lap. "No one else makes me this wet."

I grabbed her hips roughly, positioning her above my throbbing shaft. "Because you belong to me," I snarled possessively. "Say it."

"I belong to you, daddy," she moaned, sinking down onto my length in one fluid motion.

The tight heat of her cunt nearly undid me. I gripped her ass hard enough to bruise, guiding her movements as she rode me with desperate abandon.

"Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly," I growled, watching her breasts bounce with each thrust. "Fucking made for me."

She threw her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. The sight of her—lost in pleasure, completely surrendered to me—ignited something primal within me.

"Faster," I commanded, slapping her ass sharply. "Show me how much you need it."

"Please," she begged, her inner walls clenching around me. "I need you to fill me up."

I flipped her onto her back without warning, driving into her with punishing force. "This pussy is mine," I snarled, marking her neck with my teeth. "No matter who tries to take you from me."

Her nails raked down my back as she wrapped her legs tighter around my waist. "Yes, yours," she gasped, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. "Always yours."

I felt her beginning to tighten around me, her release approaching.

"Look at me when you come," I demanded, gripping her chin to force her gaze to mine. "I want to see exactly who’s making you fall apart."

Her eyes—those beautiful eyes I’d spent days trying to forget—locked with mine as her orgasm crashed through her.

The raw vulnerability in her expression, the way she whispered my name like a prayer, pushed me over the edge.

I buried myself to the hilt as I emptied inside her, marking her as mine in the most primitive way possible.

Still, it doesn’t mean I miss her.

Then I checked my watch, surprised to find I’d slept for over three hours. The most restful sleep I’d had since she left.

Sitting up, I reached for my phone and pulled up her contact information.

My thumb hovered over the call button for several long moments before I finally tossed the device aside in frustration.

What would I even say?

That I missed her? That I suddenly realized she meant something to me? No. Ryan Blackwood doesn’t beg. Not even for his wife.

I paced the room, battling with myself. The dream had shaken something loose inside me—desire mixed with a possessiveness I couldn’t explain away as mere physical attraction.

After several minutes of internal struggle, I snatched up my phone again and decisively pressed the call button.

The automated message was immediate and jarring: "The number you have dialed is not available."

I frowned, trying again. Same result.

She had blocked me. Completely cut me out of her life.

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

She wasn’t bluffing—she truly meant to leave me.

For the first time in years, I felt something dangerously close to panic.