Chapter 14.
The moment my fingertips touched her cheek, goosebumps broke out over her smooth skin.
Her jaw clenched.
My breath left me in ragged gasps when I slowly brushed my fingers over her face, down her jaw, her lips – which immediately parted for me.
She inhaled sharply. Excitement fluttered in my stomach.
The softness of her skin surprised me, as did the way she responded to my touch.
“You feel real,” I whispered, tears clouding my vision. “You don’t—you don’t buzz. You don’t give me a headache. You feel… human.”
She slightly tilted her head to give me better access as my fingers trailed down her neck. Her fingers twitched slightly before clutching the edge of the window seat.
“I feel human, too,” she answered quietly, eyes never leaving mine. “You make me feel real.”
My hand moved lower, pressing harder now, softly poking and massaging the skin on her neck as if trying to poke holes in the illusion, desperate to verify what my body already knew but my mind refused to believe.
That she was here with me, as real as I was – meaning we were either both real or not, and I was okay with either, as long as I got to exist or not exist with her.
She shifted slightly on her legs, and the silk fabric gleamed as it caught the light. My gaze briefly traveled down to her legs, but she cupped my chin with a force that surprised me, forcing my eyes to meet hers again.
“Eyes on me only,” she murmured, eyes dark with satisfaction.
I gulped, then nodded quickly. As if I’d look anywhere else but at her.
My fingers moved to the thin, silk strap on her shoulder, taut like it was dangerously close to snapping and revealing the forbidden beauty of a woman I wasn’t supposed to touch.
I touched her collarbone with just one finger, tracing it with reverence, like her body was a sculpture carved out from the heavens themselves, her energy too overwhelming for my mortal body – until now.
Her breath came faster now, midnight eyes following my every touch.
Only the soft ambient sounds broke the silence.
My fingers rested on the sapphire necklace. Her eyes flickered down as I cupped the necklace, my thumb tracing the dark blue stone.
“You always wear this,” I muttered, slowly turning the stone to admire how it reflected the candlelight. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s my only possession that’s truly mine,” she said softly.
I glanced up to spot a hint of sadness behind her sly smile.
“It’s the color of your eyes,” she whispered. My eyebrows shot up.
Over her shoulder, I glimpsed myself in the mirror. I’d never thought of my eyes as sapphire, but seeing the light flicker in my dark blue eyes, I realized she was right. She wore my eyes around her neck just like I wore hers. Was it a coincidence?
In an instant, both her hands grabbed my waist with a strength that made me gasp.
I groaned softly as her fingernails – sharp enough to be felt, not to hurt – dug into the soft skin through my shirt.
My hands flew to her head in response, firmly cupping the sides of her face, my thumbs stroking the corners of her mouth.
Zafyra leaned in so close, her exhale tickled my parted lips. A choked sound traveled from the back of my throat. I inhaled sharply, still desperate to make out a smell.
“Well?” Her breath brushed over my skin, which erupted in goosebumps.
“Oxygen,” I forced out.
She raised her eyebrows.
I backed away slightly to look her in the eyes.
“You smell like oxygen,” I clarified.
Her eyebrows rose even further, almost disappearing behind the strand of dark hair that fell in front of her face. “Oxygen has no smell.”
“Yes, it does.” A slow smile spread across my face. “You smell like fresh air. Breathing you in opens my lungs. I don’t know how else to describe it.”
Before I could speak another word, she grabbed my face and pulled me toward her.
Her lips met mine in a collision of desire – fierce, desperate, relentless.
The hunger in her kiss made my head spin and my legs tremble.
The intensity that would normally overwhelm me and make me want to run, now left me breathless for more.
Zafyra not only smelled like oxygen – she tasted like it, too.
She pulled my head back by grabbing a fistful of my hair, taking my gasp as an invitation to slide her tongue in deeper – and every breath filled my lungs with her.
The fire quickly spread through my body, burning my veins like sizzling electrical wires.
Her hands clawed at my hips, lifting me up and putting me down on the window seat. I arched my back against the cold glass, moaning quietly into her mouth.
“If it’s too much,” she gasped in between kisses, “tell me to stop.”
My core clenched at her breathless words. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around her waist, desperate to pull her closer and satisfy the raw hunger she’d instilled in me.
Zafyra chuckled darkly against my mouth.
I whimpered in response. “Be patient,” she muttered, shifting to press her thigh between my legs.
I gasped as the friction sent sharp jolts of electricity through my whole body.
“You wanted me to take it slow?” A slow, venomous smirk crept over her face.
“I’ll show you slow, darling. I’m going to draw out your desperation until you’re gasping for me like you’re dying, and I’m your only source of oxygen. ”
I couldn’t control the sound that left me – helpless, pathetic. My hips shifted forward, trying to grind on her leg, but she stepped back. I almost lost my balance at the loss of contact, but she caught me in her arms.
My hand flew up to wrap around her neck, and when my tense body relaxed in her soft arms and I gazed into her eyes – endless pits of darkened obsidian – she felt more real than ever.
Zafyra put me down on my feet. I instantly wished she hadn’t, unsure if I could trust my legs to hold me.
She made a disapproving noise, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
“Really? That’s all it takes?” She stepped closer to cage my body with her own, drawing a sigh from my lips.
Her hands lifted to brush my sides, teasing the edge of my shirt and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
I bit my lip so hard, a salty, metallic taste spread through my mouth.
My body was trembling with the effort to control myself.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone had made me feel like I needed it more than they did, someone who was patient, controlled enough to make me wait, to make sure I wanted it. And God, was it addictive.
Her hand wrapped around my throat – not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make me feel her control. My body responded instantly, thighs growing slick with need for her.
A slow, predatory smirk spread over her face as if she wanted to drink in every ounce of my desperation.
“So eager,” she murmured, applying slight pressure to the sides of my throat. My hands clawed at her shoulders, fingers pressing into bare skin – luckily, my chewed nails were too short to hurt. “Whoever made you feel like you were hard to please must not have been paying attention.”
I stiffened when her other hand brushed over the inside of my thighs, sending violent waves of pleasure through my lower body. I spread my legs, silently encouraging her to continue.
She tightened her grip on my throat. The pressure made me feel lightheaded, and yet, I still craved more, I still wanted her to squeeze harder, force me to feel how much I was hers.
“Do you want my fingers, darling?” she hissed into my ear. Her fingers trailed higher, so close to where I needed her, but not quite.
“Yes,” I forced out between choked gasps. “Please—Zafyra—”
“Begging already?” She chuckled in my ear – the sound was gasoline on the fire in my core. “You poor thing. I’m just getting started.”
“Please…” I struggled to get the words out, but she increased the pressure on my throat, her dark eyes gleaming with sadistic restraint.
“Please, what, cinnamon? Use your words.”
“Please—I need—your fingers—”
“Where do you want them?” she taunted.
I said nothing, shame flowing to my cheeks.
“Then take them.” Her eyes darkened. “Three taps on my shoulder if you want me to stop, alright?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but she suddenly slid the fingers of her free hand into my open mouth while her other hand stayed firm around my throat. My eyes widened.
I gasped, but my breath was cut off. My lips stretched around her fingers, slick and warm, the taste of her artificial skin already coating my tongue – soft, slightly bitter, clinical and electric, like licking a live wire wrapped in velvet.
“Gag on them,” she hissed.
She pushed deeper.
My eyes flew wide as her fingers invaded the back of my mouth, triggering a reflex I couldn’t suppress. My throat clenched, and my whole body jerked.
At the same time, her other hand pressed harder around my throat – not crushing, but containing. Her thumb at the front, fingers curled at the sides like she felt my pulse throb against her skin.
My body was trapped between two points of pressure – the inside and outside of my throat – her hands syncing like a vise around my voice. It was so invasive, so humiliating, and I wanted to endure it all as long as it pleased her.
I tried to speak, but couldn’t, only choke and gag on her fingers while my hands tightened their grip on her shoulders.
“Good girl,” she murmured, her voice dark with cruel amusement.
My mind finally caught up with my body’s surrender. On impulse, I reached out to tap her shoulder – but as if she read the change in my expression, she already pulled her fingers out. She released her grip on my throat and stepped back.