Chapter 27
GIANNA
Soft kisses wake me. His lips are touching every bit of my face and neck.
As he sees me open my eyes, he plants his lips on mine, his tongue demanding entrance.
My mind is screaming, telling me to stop him, to turn away, to push him away.
But my body needs this. Needs his lips on mine, needs his kisses, which still bring all the warmth of the summer sun, just like they used to.
He tugs on the belt of the robe and I let him open it, revealing my nakedness. Which is immediately covered by his warm hands, his touch soft at first but growing more and more insistent as I refuse to kiss him back for real.
My body may want him. The part of my mind that would like to pretend everything is exactly as it should be, now that I have him all to myself with no one standing between us, wants him too. But that’s not the reality.
The reality is…
My mind drifts away on the waves of pleasure as he finally stops insisting on the kiss and his lips trail down my neck instead. My breasts. My nipples. Back to my neck.
His hands are busy too, kneading my breasts, the soft parts of my stomach, pinching my nipples. Eliciting moans and whimpers that I wish I could stop. That I try to stop by biting down hard on my bottom lip until it hurts. He stops kissing me as I whimper in pain.
His eyes are like two green lasers as he runs his thumb across my lips, smoothing away the pain.
“Stop that.”
“Why should I?”
He runs his thumb across my lips again, even softer this time, taking away the last of the pain.
“Because you want this,” he says. “And there’s no point fighting the pleasure. Especially when everything else is pain. Trust me, I know.”
“Oh, do you?” I snap and try to sit up, but he pins me down on the bed, his hands gripping my wrists tight. “You’re the one bringing me all the pain.”
“And all the pleasure,” he says, smirking at me.
He keeps my wrists pinned down as he kisses my neck again, then sucks first on one nipple and then the other. I can keep the moans in on the first go. Not the second and third as he repeats the process.
He smirks again, then trails soft kisses right down to my clit. And the surge of white-hot pleasure has my hips rising to meet his lips without any input from my brain. If he wasn’t holding my hands down so tight, I’d probably be running my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.
Or strangle him.
Both are viable options. Both are things I want.
And they keep pulling me in their opposite directions as his skilled tongue and lips bring me to the edge of an orgasm then pull back.
I fear the pleasure. I welcome the pleasure.
I crave the pleasure. I hate him for giving it to me. I hate him for denying it. I hate him…
The moan that escapes my throat as I finally come is more like a roar. Because I love it and I hate it and it’s tearing me apart.
He’s on top of me now, his throbbing, hard cock entering me before the orgasm he just gave me subsides. His thick cock inside me wakes another, more powerful than the first, has my whole body shaking and writhing as the pleasure builds and builds.
I open to him, moaning through gritted teeth, fighting the pleasure that is too much, too fast, but at the same time so welcome, so exactly what I needed that my mind is collapsing in on itself, my rational thought unable to hold the weight of all the pleasure.
He finally stops pushing his cock into me, lets me ride out the waves of the crazy-making pleasure he’s giving me. And in the soft, sparkling smoothness that follows, I know this is exactly what I need and want. Even if it’s completely wrong.
He finally releases my wrists and kisses me again.
This time my mouth opens for him, lets his tongue in and I’m so mad at myself for that.
In a surge at that hatred for myself I grab fistful of his hair and yank him away.
The pain in his eyes heightens the pleasure to dizzying heights as he thrusts his cock all the way in.
He grabs my wrists again, pinning my arms above my head now as he thrusts into me mercilessly, fast and hard, all the way in, again and again.
Another orgasm explodes inside me, followed by a third…
and still the pleasure just builds and builds, the waves suffocating me in their heat, their urgency, as the orgasms rip through me.
And still he’s not done.
All I know is this pleasure now.
I don’t know my name.
I don’t know his.
All I know is that I want more and more and more and more of this. No matter how wrong it is to want it so much.
But there’s no right and wrong here, in this sea of bliss. There’s only pleasure.
He buries his cock in me one final time and groans as he fills me with his hot come. I orgasm again, my breaths coming in short, jagged beats, the pleasure as painful as it is sweet.
It’s wrong how much I want him.
Wrong how much I enjoyed this.
Wrong how much I want more.
But there’s no fighting it.
Nor going without anymore.
“I hate you,” I whisper as he rolls off me.
He’s grinning like that cat from Alice in Wonderland.
“No, you don’t.”
But I do. I hate him as much as I need and want him. But if I don’t stop thinking about that I’ll go mad.