Chapter 114 #2
“Stay with me. Don’t disappear into your head right now.”
“I don’t want to…”
A kiss, a lick, a bite, warm hands against my shivering skin.
“Look at me, Mireya,” he says, voice soft and deep. “Open your pretty eyes for me.”
And I do, opening them to witness his gaze, blue eyes so deep I could lose myself in them forever. They look safe, and calm, they look… perfect.
“Little miss sad eyes,” he whispers the nickname he gave me when he met me. “You have the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
At some point the jeans had slipped from my lap and the needle was lying forgotten on the desk.
We were surrounded by the small silver sequins I'd been scattering across the floor without noticing.
They caught the moonlight in little flashes whenever either of us moved, as if the room were full of fragments of stars.
I was sitting over him, my knees pressed into the carpet on either side of him, and his hands rested at my waist, holding me exactly where he wanted me.
I could feel everything. The warmth of him beneath me, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the faint scent of his skin, the roughness that entered his voice whenever he whispered against my lips.
“Be quiet for me,” he whispers softly.
His mouth met mine with aching hunger, all the restraint between us finally giving way.
I kissed him back slowly at first, then deeper, my lips moving against his as though I could somehow make up for every worry I caused him by being myself.
His hand slid into my hair, drawing me impossibly closer, and the kiss became almost dizzying, warm, breathless, and full of wanting and need.
I felt myself giving in to the passionate pace he set, my fingers moving from his shoulder, to the back of his neck as his other hand pushed me deeper against him. I can feel him pulsing against my core, rubbing faster and faster.
A sequin cracked beneath my knee but it didn’t stop me from grinding on him with more need. I need him, I need him to never stop making me feel.
“Look at me,” he breathes against my mouth as his free hand disappears beneath my shorts. Long fingers rubbing against the heat between my thighs and my breath catches as his tongue swallows it.
He rubs, and pinches my clit through the fabric of my panties. And I instinctively reach for his shirt.
“Let me make you feel okay. Let me make you feel happy, Mireya,” he adds after my fingers reach for the first button of his shirt.
He watches me, opening them one by one, until I’m met with the scar I gave him, inked forever on his heartbeat. They pause on each number. And every time I dared to look away from him, his rubs became meaner.
“You tattooed it,” I breathe as a moan threatens to spill out of my lips.
He nods, pushing the cotton fabric aside and plunging a finger deep inside me.
“Do you like it?” he pants against my lips.
Instead of replying, my hand leaves the scar, and unzips his pants carefully. His hardness is warm against my palm when I free it from the thick material that was wet with my own arousal.
“I do,” I give a squeeze, watching his eyes close as his hand rests on my shoulder. “Keep doing that Damien, let me make you happy too…” I whisper as I pump his erection harder.
His finger turns into two, pushing deeper each time I squeeze his cock under his boxer, and all I can hear is how fast his breath quickens on my skin.
“That’s it, baby, rub yourself against my hand,” he says softly and I understand that I’ve been moving following his thrusts, seeking release as if my life depended on it.
The room seemed to narrow around us. I could hear the faint rustle of fabric beneath us, the soft click of sequins shifting across the carpet, the unevenness of my own breathing.
His mouth moved against mine next, with that same controlled patience, as though he had all night and intended to make me feel every second of it.
My eyes closed the moment his fingers curled inside then he stopped, forcing me to look at him. “Don't look away,” he whispers before his mouth devours mine again. “Don’t look away from the mess you made me become,” he adds, leaving my mouth missing his taste.
I leaned down and kissed him again, harder now, because I didn't know how else to answer him.
My hand moved harder on his cock, pulling faster and I felt that familiar dizziness beginning to take me, the strange sensation of losing the borders between thought and feeling.
He kissed me until I forgot what I had been afraid of.
Until there was only the moonlight, the scattered silver, his fingers pushing inside me, and the fast rhythm of our breathing.
His breathing broke first, warmth spread beneath my hands, and mine followed, as my legs squeezed around his hand.
For a moment, neither of us were capable of anything apart from holding each other.
I buried my face against his shoulder, trembling, while his arms tightened around me.
When I finally pulled away, breathless, my forehead resting against his, his eyes remained closed for a moment.
Then they opened. His fingers moved gently through my hair.
“I love when you look at me like that.”
He reached down and picked one of the little blue stars from the floor, turning it between his fingers before holding it out to me.
“A last wish for the night?”
I smiled, though something in my chest ached at the thought of this year ending.
I took it from his fingers, closing my eyes.
And for one small second, I let myself wish for the impossible.
For the moonlight to stray on the floor, and for the room to remain dark. For his arms to stay around me, and this strange beautiful world we’d made between scattered sequins and whispered breaths to never have to end.
I opened my eyes, finding his fixed on mine.
“What did you wish for?”
I leaned down, kissing the corner of his smiling mouth. “I can’t tell you.”
His grin is soft, and I want to kiss it again. “Then I hope it comes true.”
And so, I didn’t try to imagine how the night would end in nightmares and fear.
I only wished for this one to never end.