I can barely see straight let alone think straight. I can’t fucking stay away, she’s a drug, and I need more, always need fucking more.
“Strip, Eleanor, before I do it, and trust me, I won’t take care of those fancy clothes.”
She visibly swallows, hooks her fingers under the hem of her sweater and peels it away from her torso, revealing all that creamy skin, the mounds of her perfect tits, nipples peeking through the sheer lace. Her chest heaves with each breath, and her hands shake as she goes to the button of her suit pants, popping it open clumsily before she lets them drop, and she steps from them, leaving her in just her matching bra and panties that cover nothing and show me everything.
Fuck, she’s so fucking perfect. Her plump lips are parted, her eyes hooded, the desire there fueling the need to be in her, under her skin, claiming her and never letting her go.
“All of it,” I order, “I want all of you open for me, love.”
I keep myself rooted to the spot, my feet planted on the floor as I watch her unhook her bra, and let it fall with the rest of her clothes, and then drops her panties and I snap. I break. Shatter into a thousand pieces with no hope of ever being put back together again.
I move on her, pressing her back against the wall with a thud, claiming her mouth while my hands cup her breasts, kneading the soft, pliable flesh, rolling the hard peaks of her nipples between my fingers. I wanted every inch of her burned into my brain, I wanted to own her in every single way, ruined for everyone else but me.
She whimpers against my mouth, but I don’t stop kissing her as I pull at my jeans, barely having them down before I’m hoisting her up with my hands on the backs of her thighs, spreading her open and pushing my cock into her pussy. Slick, wet heat meets the crown of my dick and I slowly, slowly, slide in, careful not to hurt her. Her fingers bite into my shoulders, her teeth nip at my lips, and by the time I’m fully inside, we’re both sweating, my breathing more of a pant as my restraint pulls tight.
I grind into her, barely moving in and out as I push my pelvic bone against her clit, working her up until she starts to roll her hips, chasing that high. My fingers sink into the fleshy parts of her thighs, hard enough, no doubt, to bruise, but she doesn’t complain about the rough hold or my cock buried deep.
“Move,” She moans, “Please.”
“Just give me a minute,” I grind out, the sensation of her tight pussy enveloping my cock almost enough to have me coming on the spot.
“Kingston,” she pleads, grinding herself against me.
I move slow, sliding out and then back in, torture and ecstasy all in the same breath. The piercing rubs against her inner walls, pleasure for both of us, and if the way her eyes roll back, and head tilts until the back of her skull is resting on the wall is anything to go by, it’s enough for her for the time being.
It’s blissful agony, this steady pace. My heart pounds inside my chest, my muscles shake but she feels so damn good. I roll my hips, pushing in at the same time I give her friction against her clit, my mouth finding hers, tongue dancing to the same rhythm.
“Fuck me,” she whispers into my mouth, “fuck me.”
“Love,” I warn.
“Please.”
My fingers curl into her thighs, biting harder and she cries out, but I take away that pain as I pull my hips back and slam forward, so hard she thumps against the wall. I do it again. And again. Our bodies slap together, her fingers turning to a bruising hold, and I continue to fuck her like she asked. Hard and rough and unforgiving.
“Like this, love?” I growl.
“Yes, God, yes!”
With each pound of my hips I roll, rubbing her clit, finding that sweet spot inside but also stimulating that bundle of nerves that’ll have her seeing stars.
She begins to pant, her moans getting louder, her chest heaving, and I stop.
“Not yet,” I tell her. I want us both there. I want to see the same stars, I want to feel the earth shake with her, feel our souls shatter.
She cries out, but I continue to give and take, coaxing her closer to the edge before pulling her back.
And I wanted more. I always wanted more.
But when she meets my eyes and I see that blatant need, that wanton desire and the pleas unspoken, I can’t deny her any longer, and I fear that’ll continue to be the way it goes.
Me pushing, her pulling, and me breaking every time.
It hadn’t taken much to break me again and like her, I can’t deny it.
There’s a rope tethered between us and no matter how much either of us try to pull, it only snaps tight and springs back, forcing us together.
I was her damnation, but she was my salvation.
It wouldn’t end well.
This time when she reaches that peak, I let her fall over it. Her scream bounces off the walls, her pussy convulsing around my dick, squeezing me and I erupt, unable to hold it and I empty myself inside her, her walls like a pulsing vice, pulling every last drop.
When we’re spent, I keep myself inside, just to let myself feel it for a little bit longer, my forehead resting on her shoulder, her breath whispering against the nape of my neck.
She rests her cheek on my shoulder as I pull from her and then awkwardly shove myself back into my jeans, not willing to let her down in case we break this calm truce between us yet again. I carry her, legs still wrapped around my body into the bathroom, where I then gently sit her on the counter before I turn to the bath and twist the taps, plugging it so the tub begins to fill and steam blooms from the hot water.
Her eyes hooded, body slack, she watches as I pick up bottles, checking the labels until I find the one I’m looking for. Bubbles instantly form on the surface of the water.
“What are you doing?” She whispers.
“Shh,” I order. I didn’t know what I was doing only that I needed to do it. To take care of her, wash away the hurt I left her with this morning, even if it was for her own good.
Turning up, yet again, was a mistake but one I was willing to make. She wasn’t the mistake but letting her become something was. It was unforgivable, a sin so dark and deadly, I doubted hell would even want me.
I knew full well dragging her into this would do more damage than good and yet, I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t even last a day.
And here I thought I was controlled. Here I thought nothing could distract me.
I internally scoff. What a fool I was.
She wasn’t innocent.
No that’s not right, she was innocent and a magnet, drawing me in. A siren singing, a light beckoning. How was I to stay away when everything I needed had been embodied into this woman sitting behind me.
She was everything I didn’t know I needed or craved.
Everything I didn’t deserve but would take. When the bath is full, the bubbles covering every inch, I walk over to her, not allowing myself to meet her eyes. She should have better. A good life, a good man, something more, and yet I wasn’t willing to let her go.
I could. I wasn’t in love with her, how could I be, I didn’t know her, not properly but this root, it had grown into something fierce, and those thorns were deep.
Letting her go would be giving her up, and I wasn’t willing to do that.
I lift her from the counter.
“I can walk,” she tells me.
I don’t answer, instead, I carry her towards the bath, placing her feet in first, and then lowering her until she’s submerged.
“Let me take care of you,” is all I say.
“I’m fine, I can take care of myself.”
“Let me.”
She goes quiet and I still don’t meet her eyes. I kneel at the edge of the bath, smoothing my hands down her curves beneath the water, tickling and kneading until her breathing evens and her eyes close, head resting against the rim.
It’s dangerous for her to feel safe with me, dangerous for her to allow herself to do so, but I knew I wouldn’t hurt her. I tried that and I came back. The moment that text hit my phone earlier, four simple words that screamed so loud inside my head it broke something.
I didn’t know what it said about me, what it said about her, but for whatever reason, I was drawn to this woman, and she was drawn to me, and I wouldn’t fight it.