Chapter 14 - Gela
I slide my hands around his neck and part my lips, inviting him in. His tongue meets mine, and that beautiful electric feeling zaps right through me.
Instantly, I start feeling better. Every moment of panic becomes a fading memory because when I kiss Valentin, it feels like nothing can touch our orbit. My fingers curl into his hair, and I tug him closer, because suddenly, just kissing him doesn’t feel enough.
I need more. I need all of him. That need dissolves into something hotter, burning between my legs, and in search for more, I end up on his lap. I straddle him around his legs until our chests are crushed against each other.
And still, he pulls me closer.
I moan as I slide my tongue to the roof of his mouth and feel him harden against my jeans. The ridge of his cock presses exactly where I need it, and I begin to grind into him, devastatingly slow.
“Gela Jones, you’re driving me crazy,” he groans against my mouth.
And that’s the thing. I want to drive him crazy, so damn crazy he can’t think straight.
My head is spinning, my body taking over where my brain has short-circuited. I fumble with the buttons of his shirt, seeking what I chase.
“You sure?” he asks, pulling back once to search my eyes.
“Can you not question me right now? You’ve been running through my mind for days, and I’m tired of fighting it.”
So damn tired, in fact, that I confessed it before I could stop myself.
His mouth curves into that devilish half-grin that makes my stomach flip. Then his hands find the hem of my blouse, and he lifts it slowly, savoring every inch of my naked skin.
When it's off, he looks at me like he could devour me whole. He reaches up to curl a tendril of my hair around his finger, and the gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that I feel something inside me melt.
“You’re the prettiest girl on the block, Gela Jones.”
I smile, leaning in to brush my lips against his again.
“And did I mention how large the block runs?” he murmurs.
His words, his touch, his rough hands, his sweet gestures, all of it is a poisonous combination that makes me lose all my patience.
Drunk on him, I reach for his belt. He helps me, undoing the buckle with one hand while using his other to unclasp my bra.
The moment my breasts are free, his eyes darken. He cups one, his thumb brushing over my nipple, and my body jerks in response. Then he’s kissing me again, and I clench between my legs at how good it feels to be naked under his touch.
His hands move to my ass, squeezing, then pushing upward to guide me. I rise to my knees above him and reach for the button of my jeans to get them off.
He’s impatient too, I can tell. He moves as fast as he can, helping me slide the jeans down my hips.
But before I can settle back onto him, though, he moves suddenly, guiding me back down onto the couch.
He hovers over me and brushes up against my lips again, but only briefly before he begins to kiss a path down my neck, my collarbone, right down to between my breasts. Each bit of skin his lips touch feels branded, hot, searing.
He keeps moving down, across my stomach, his tongue dipping into my belly button until I squirm. When he reaches the edge of my panties, I lift my hips slightly, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband.
But instead of using his hands, he catches the cotton between his teeth, dragging it slow down my legs. The sight makes my whole body clench, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut, wrecked by how hot it is.
When I open them again, he's settled between my thighs, looking at me like I'm a feast and he's starving. I’m hungry too, with pure, aching want.
I knit my fingers through his hair and buck up against his mouth, my body writhing beneath his.
I hear him growl before he goes down on me, but despite the roar from his throat, the first lap of his tongue against me is torturously gentle. It’s a whisper, a tease, making me want him even more than I thought possible.
I whimper, and he strokes me firmer, from bottom to top, ending with a flick against my clit that makes me gasp.
“Fuck, you're soaking,” he growls, and his voice sends shivers through me.
He strokes me like that a while longer, until I feel like he’s my goddamn caffeine hit, waking up every sleeping nerve in my body. Then, he slides a finger inside and curls it so crooked that I arch off the couch.
He then puts in another, and I feel that delicious stretch and beautiful burn that makes me clutch at the cushions beneath me and moan out loud.
“That's it,” he encourages as he begins to form a faster rhythm with his fingers. “Let me hear you.”
His mouth returns to my clit, sucking gently while his fingers continue their magic. He keeps tapping that one spot inside me, and the pleasure builds and builds.
That coiling tension low in my belly grows tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every thrust of his fingers.
And then it snaps.
My orgasm crashes over me in waves that seem to go on forever.
My toes curl, my back arches, and I cry out his name as the spark of energy bursts and travels up and down my body.
I'm vaguely aware of gripping his hair too tightly, of my thighs trembling around his head, but I can't control any of it.
As I start to come down, I expect him to stop, to give me a moment to recover. But he doesn't. If anything, he doubles his efforts and his tongue circles my already throbbing clit while his fingers continue dancing inside me.
“Valentin, Oh my god,” I squeal as I feel my entire body turn to jelly.
The overstimulation quickly shifts back to pleasure, and impossibly, I feel another orgasm building. This one hits faster and harder, stealing my breath while it does. My entire body shakes with it, and I swear I see stars.
When I finally come back to reality, I'm boneless and spent. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m feeling really selfish.
I reach down and tug at his shoulders to pull him up my body.
“You okay?” he asks, confusion flickering in his eyes.
“I want to feel you inside me,” I breathe against his lips.
He smiles and bites my lower lip before quickly stripping off his boxers. I look down between us and see his cock spring free, thicker and harder than I thought he’d be.
My mouth goes dry, and I thank the stars I’m vertical, because the sight of it alone can bring me to my knees.
He makes space for himself between my legs, and I feel his cock brushing up against my slit. Then, slowly, he inches in, just the tip.
I clench around him and slide lower, trying to take what he’s not giving. Then, he pushes in, slow and steady.
I let out a gasp at how good he feels, stretching me in the most delicious way. He goes slow, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside me, filling me completely. The feeling is indescribable—a fullness, a rightness, a heady rush that makes my head spin.
He's so deep, fitting into every crevice inside me, that even the slightest movement sends jolts of pleasure through my system.
Then, Valentin pulls out his cock almost completely before sliding back into me. He drags and slides, over and over again, until my pussy is so wet and slick that the slapping sounds fill the air.
I’m wrecked from before, but desperate for more. I curve my legs around him, squeezing tight and pulling closer. He begins to move faster.
“Fuck, Gela,” he groans. “You feel so good.”
The couch creaks as he begins fucking me harder. His eyes stay on mine, and I study every expression on his face, from how he looks when he grunts to how he grins when he slides in as deep as he can go. There’s sweat beading his forehead, and when I grip his shoulders, I feel the muscles rippling.
Soon enough, he grabs my hips and pulls me further down the couch to get me in a position where he can pound me deeper.
“Oh my god,” I mewl, closing my eyes to shut off the world and feel just him. He moves like a pendulum, so consistent, hitting that spot I love over and over again, until I feel another orgasm building.
“Valentin.” I dig my nails into his shoulders. “I'm gonna cum again.”
“That's it, baby. Let go for me.” He bends and takes my lips against his, and I can’t help but bite down when I finally go over the edge.
My entire body is in a frenzy, my legs jerking, my body arching up, and I'm closed off to the world as it chases shooting stars. The pleasure is all-encompassing, and I scream his name into his mouth as the orgasm bursts through me like a tornado.
He lets go of kissing me, and I can feel my pussy fluttering around his cock, in slow, steady beats. I clench to keep this feeling stored up inside me, like I can bottle it forever, when Valentin groans and slows down.
That’s when I feel his cock start to pulse and his rhythm falter. His body tenses above me as he finally finds his release.
For a long moment, we don't move. He rests his forehead against mine while we catch our breaths. Then, he pulls out of me, and I’m making a move to grab my clothes when I feel his hand slide around my waist to drag me back against his chest.
I freeze at the intimacy of it and what it might mean. Sex is one thing, but cuddling is something else entirely. Cuddling is a promise for tomorrow…and tomorrow doesn’t seem like a possibility between us.
He married me to keep me alive, not because he wants me. For two weeks, I swore this was a mistake, and the second things get messy, I go running into his arms. How pathetic.
And just like that, the afterglow fades, and reality crashes back in.
His arm tightens around my waist, trying to pull me wholly against his chest.
I resist slightly until he gives, and then I sit up. “That was... unexpected.”
He sits up too, concern etched on his face. “You… wanted to, didn’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” I admit. “But we should be clear about what this is.”
“Okay. What are you getting at?”
I can see he’s trying to remain neutral, but I think I see a flash of hurt in his eyes.