9. Colette
9
Colette
F uck! Fuck! Fuck!!
A jolt of electricity shoots through me as Antonio’s lips meet mine. It’s a rough, desperate kiss, a tangle of tongues and powerful emotions. My brain short circuits, everything dissolving into a hazy fog. This was not in my plans when I came here.
His hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, the warmth of his body searing through the thin fabric of my shirt. I melt into him, a part of me surprised by the ease with which I surrender. Then shame washes over me. What am I doing?
I pull away, gasping for breath. My cheeks burn, and I’m sure my face is the color of a ripe tomato. Antonio stares at me, his eyes a stormy gray, mirroring the confusion swirling inside me.me
“I…I shouldn’t have done that,” he stammers, scrambling for some semblance of composure.
“This is crazy,” I reply. “I just… I came here to see how you were doing.”
The words sound lame even to my own ears. Antonio’s gaze flickers from my face to his hand, which still rests on my waist, then back to me. A wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice rough. “Me too.”
An awkward silence stretches between us, thick with silent desires. I glance down at the forgotten controllers lying on the coffee table. Our game, which seemed so important a few moments ago, was now a shadow in my mind. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.
“It’s getting pretty late,” I say, pulling away from him. His hand hangs on to my waist as if he might resist, but he lets me go, a pained expression on his face. “I’d better head back home now.”
His jaw tightens, and he nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
His eyes drift down to my lips, and his hunger is palpable, almost alive. The look on his face awakens something inside me, and it takes everything for me to stifle the low moan that threatens to escape my mouth.
How does he look so good? I can still feel the sensation of the passionate kiss, the pressure and intensity of it. I wonder if he can see his hunger mirrored in my eyes. The way he looks at me… It’s terrifying, but a part of me wants to explore that danger, the darkness lurking inside him.
I blink, stirring awake out of my momentary trance. I get up, and Antonio does the same. The attraction between us is raw and intense. We both ignore it as we walk to the front door.
“Thanks for stopping by,” he says, holding the door open for me. “And I’m sorry, for…”
“Please, Antonio. You have nothing to apologize for. We made a mistake, and that’s all there is to it. Let’s not make a fuss about it, okay?”
His jaw tightens again, and I see that darkness in his eyes once again. “Alright then. I guess I will see you around?”
I force myself to smile. “Of course. We still live next door to each other.” I gulp. “Goodnight, Antonio.”
“Goodnight.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that tugs at my heartstrings.
I walk out onto the porch, and he shuts the door behind me. I make my way halfway down the steps before I hesitate, looking back at the door. I can still make out Antonio’s outline through the opaque glass.
What am I doing ? He's Henry's best friend. Letting this go any further would be a betrayal, wouldn't it?
But even as the thought crosses my mind, another voice whispers. Is it so bad? A fleeting moment of comfort, a brief reprieve from the crushing weight of my nightmares and the gnawing loneliness?
I think of my empty, massive, family home, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards.
I think of the nightmares that will come, dragging me back into the darkest corners of my memories, leaving me gasping and drenched in sweat.
The memories overwhelm me — the feeling of rough hands pinning me down, the acrid stench of stale whiskey mingling with sweat, my terrified screams that nobody ever seems to hear, the… NO!
I grip the railing, steeling my mind and blocking out the memories. For the first time in weeks, I don’t have to deal with thoughts of Ricardo. I don’t have to wake up in a cold pool of my sweat. The reprieve from the nightly horrors is its own temptation.
And then there’s Antonio. Fierce, dark. Just like me.
I turn around and climb up the stairs. The door swings open in a heartbeat after I push the doorbell. Antonio watches me with confusion for a fraction of a moment, and when I just stand there, looking at him, realization dawns on me.
Without hesitation, he reaches out and takes my hand. He pulls me towards him and locks his lips with mine, wrapping my waist with one arm. My mouth opens for him as I grip the back of his neck, tossing all sense of caution and feelings of betrayal to the wind.
When he pulls back, his face is red, and then there’s a frantic look in his eyes. "Colette," he breathes, his voice a ragged whisper. "I—"
I silence him with another searing kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair, as I pour every ounce of pent-up desire into the embrace. He responds with equal fervor, his hands roaming my body with a hunger that sets my skin ablaze.
When he breaks off the kiss again, it takes my mind a little time to process my surroundings. A soft breeze blows through the open doorway, and for the first time, I realize we are still standing outside.
He takes my hand and leads me in, smiling at me. Underneath his gentle smile, though, lies something else. A beast waiting to pounce. The thought of it weakens my legs, and I stumble.
“Are you okay?” he asks, pushing the door closed and balancing me with his other hand.
Of course I’m not okay. I’m dripping through my panties . “Yeah. I just lost my step,” I say instead.
He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. His gaze lingers on my lips for a beat too long, and the air crackles with energy. Before I can voice the doubts swirling in my head, he leans in again.
This kiss is different. It's slow and deliberate, explore familiar territory with a quiet intensity. His tongue traces the outline of my lips, sending a flash of heat through me. I melt into him, my inhibitions melting away with each deepening breath.
His hand trails down my back, sending shivers down my spine. I feel his fingers brush against the hem of my shirt, giving me a sudden feeling of anticipation. My hand reaches for his neck, tangling itself in his hair again.
It's a dance as old as time itself, a primal give-and-take fueled by an overwhelming need for connection. The tide of passion sweeps away any lingering doubts, drowning them out with the thunderous pounding of our hearts.
There’s no going back from this , I know. I can feel the guilt deep inside. Unfortunately, I’m going through enough emotions at the moment that it’s super easy for me to bury the guilt and ignore it.
The kiss becomes desperate, hungry. We stumble into the living room, hands roving across each other’s bodies. We bump into the coffee table and send the game controllers scattering across the floor.
Without pausing, we find our way to the couch, his touch igniting a fire within me, a need telling me I’d been too involved with my own problems to realize there was a need simmering under the surface.
He trails his kisses down my neck, his lips lingering on the sensitive spot behind my ear. My breath hitches, and a moan escapes my lips. His hands are everywhere, exploring the curves of my body with a practiced ease that makes my heart race.
The guilt claws at me again for a fleeting moment, a whisper against the tide of desire. I push it down, though, choosing to surrender to the moment, to the man holding me close.
We shed our clothes in a flurry of tangled limbs and hushed whispers. His body is a work of art, chiseled as if from stone. Tattoos cover the lean muscles of his arms. My gaze travels across the planes of his chest, lingering on the faint outlines of faded tattoos, and much inked ones. The room is dim enough that I can’t make out what they say, not that I care much right now. But they hold me, belying their strength.
He drinks in my body as well, his breathing ragged as he performs a full scan from the swell of my breasts and rests on my thigh, his hand gripping it. Antonio suspends one of my legs on the back of the couch and slips his hand along my inner thigh. The faint contact sends a hurricane of sensation through me, threatening to drive me insane. Leaning forward, he fastens his wet, cool mouth on one of my breasts, my nipple hard. His hand moves down to the ruinous mess between my legs, his fingers gliding through.
I lose all sensation in my legs, and I shudder from the twin points of pleasure. I shudder, my mind trying to process what is happening to my body.
His fingers find my sensitive nub, and I gasp, my eyes watering. “Yes, Antonio,” I whisper in a voice that sounds almost alien. “Right there. Please, stay right there.”
Humming his approval, Antonio increases the pressure on my breast, while rubbing two fingers in slow, intentional, circular movements on my nub. It happens too fast. A crescendo of pleasure, and the next moment, my legs spasm, my muscles growing as taut as bowstrings as an orgasm rips through me. I feel it in every fiber of my existence and realize I’m crying afterwards.
Antonio eases the pressure on my clit and looks at my face. He grins before kissing me. I latch onto his lips for dear life, wrapping my arms around his sweaty back. He lies on top of me, his heavy body a comfortable weight.
“Wow,” I whisper. “Just…wow.”
He laughs, a clean sound that seems like it’s coming from deep inside his bowels. And then he trails a blazing path of kisses down my neck, his lips and tongue igniting every nerve ending in their wake.
Hishuge member brushes against my legs, and I can’t deny the thrill the feel of it sends through me. I reach down and grab it, feeling the girth and enjoying the deep moan that drifts out of his throat as I massage it, the veins bulging as it swells in my hand.
A part of me is terrified of having that inside me. But part of me can’t wait to experience what it would feel like. To experience that massive shaft drilling in and out of me. I arch into him, a breathless moan escaping my lips as his calloused fingers trace the curves of my body. He leisurely wanders down my body, covering every inch with kisses.
Neck, shoulders, chest, belly button, thighs.. As he works his way down, I feel a rush of mounting excitement, fueled by the desire for what’s coming. When I grab the back of his head and try to force it faster between my legs, he pushes back.
“Patience, Col,” he rumbles. “I need you to relax and enjoy this. Hmm?”
I whimper. There’s no denying how much control he has over me. He has me wrapped around his finger and ready to do whatever bidding he wants. I lean back on the couch and close my eyes, trying hard to relax.
And yet, nothing prepares me for the sensation I feel when his tongue splits my pussy apart and rests on my sensitive nub.
I let out a surprised cry as my eyes fly wide open. I watch him in shock as he feasts on me. The slurping sounds are arousing but embarrassing. How did I get so wet so fast?
To call Antonio skilled is a gross understatement. He reads my body, listening to every sound and reacting to every motion. I hear a ringing in my ear, and my head drops to the side as I feel my orgasm that’s mere seconds away. Antonio’s tongue is a sentient being, moving on its own volition. The result is a sense of perpetual satisfaction as he leads me to my climax.
I don’t notice when he stops, my mind reacting slower than it has ever done before. Why did he stop? I open my eyes, indignant and about to cry in disappointment.
Before I can form the words, he leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Not so fast, Col. You’re not about to have all the fun alone.”
My heart is beating fast in my chest as I watch him, liquid dripping from his jaw and splattering on my chest. Fuck .
Still watching me, he guides his monstrosity into me. I scramble backwards, wide-eyed, trying with futility to get away from that monster. Antonio grips my waist, bats my hands aside, and buries his shaft into me up to the hilt.
I feel it strike my wall, splitting me apart as it lodges inside me. My vision swims, and I see spinning stars. He’s trying to kill me. He’s going to kill me , I think, panicking.
He sees the panic in my eyes, and his expression softens. “It’s alright, Col. It’s alright. Okay?”
His voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, and I nod. He pulls his dick halfway out, burying it again, but not as deep. I let out a sigh of relief. It doesn’t feel as bad as the first time, but it’s still a lot.
The sensation is mind numbing as my walls expand to accept him. Ever patient, Antonio moves until he can see me wanting more. I grip his buttocks and try to get him to go faster.
He chuckles and indulges me, cranking it up a few notches. I hang on to him for dear life as he slams into me, loud smacks echoing through the sitting room as our bodies collide into each other. Antonio’s pace is frantic, and the pressure on my walls is relentless. My sight wavers and my body stiffens, my walls gripping him tight. My legs tangle around him, locking him in place.
I shudder and vibrate, pushing myself deeper into him and letting go. I hear him grunt in pain at the crushing pressure of my pussy walls, but I ignore him. I’m almost there . The orgasm I experience feels like a psychedelic high, tearing my mind to pieces and rearranging it back together differently. I let out a shrill cry from my throat, my toes curling as the sensation rips through my entire body.
It seems to last for a lifetime, and when I’m done, I still feel residual electricity crackling inside me, making me twitch. I open my eyes and see Antonio shuddering as well, resting on his elbows as his cock pulsates without rhythm inside me. His head collapses beside mine after a few seconds, his forehead dotted with sweat.
Afterwards, we lie breathless and spent, our limbs still tangled together in a messy knot. Our ragged breaths, the only sound in the room aside from the steady ticking of the clock, punctuate the silence.
Shame niggles at the edges of my mind, but it's overshadowed by a sense of contentment, feel connection I haven't experienced in a long time.
Antonio strokes a loose strand of hair away from my face. His thumb traces the curve of my cheek. "That was…" he begins, his voice hoarse.
"Unexpected?" I finish for him, a small smile playing on my lips.
He nods, a rueful smile gracing his features. "To say the least."
He looks at me, his eyes searching mine. The question hanging in the air is unspoken, but loud and clear.
Do we pretend this never happened?
I know the answer is yes. This is a recipe for disaster. We're both fragile and riddled with the consequences of our past actions. But the memory of his touch lingers on my skin, a potent reminder of the connection we have just shared.
Reality seeps back in, though, bringing with it a tidal wave of conflicting emotions. What have I done? The chorus of doubts and recriminations echoes through my mind.
I shift away from Antonio, aware of our state of undress. He props himself up on one elbow, giving me a meaningful look.
"Colette," he begins, his voice still holding some lingering desire. "That was..."
"A mistake," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them. "We shouldn't have done that."
His brow furrows, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features. "Is that what you think?"
I swallow hard, my throat dry. Is it? A part of me wants to cling to this moment, to bask in the afterglow of our passionate encounter. But a louder, more insistent voice whispers of the complications that lie ahead of the tangled web we've just woven.
Shame coils in my gut as I remember Henry's face, his warm smile, and easy affection whenever Antonio's name comes up. How could I betray him like this, with his closest friend? The thought is almost too much to bear.
And yet… hadn't I already betrayed myself countless times before? I’ve allowed myself to be diminished, broken, twisted into a shadow of my former self, all in the name of fulfilling others' expectations and bending to their whims.
A flicker of defiance boils within me, fanning the flames of the desire still simmering in my veins. For once in my life, I've done something selfish, something for my own needs and wants. The realization is both terrifying and empowering. I meet Antonio's searching gaze head-on, my jaw set in a stubborn line. "It shouldn't have happened," I amend, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. "But I…I don't regret it. Not entirely."
A flicker of surprise registers in his expression, replaced by a look of relief so palpable it's almost comical. He reaches out, his calloused fingers grazing my cheek in a tender caress.
"I don't regret it either," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of my lip. "God help me, but I don't."
The depths of emotion swirling in his eyes rob me of breath. This is so much more than a momentary lapse, a fleeting indulgence born of loneliness and despair. There's a connection here, fragile yet undeniable, that threatens to sweep me away in its undertow.
"It can't happen again," my voice steadier than I feel. "You're Henry's best friend, Antonio. What we just did... It's wrong."
He's silent for a long moment, his gaze boring into me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. Then he nods.
"You're right," he murmurs, running a hand through his tousled hair. "It was a momentary lapse, brought on by... well, you know."
I know, loneliness… the bone-deep weariness of carrying too many burdens. For a brief, shining moment, we'd found solace in each other's arms, a temporary escape from whatever demons that haunt us.
But reality has a way of reasserting itself, and now we're left to pick up the pieces, to rebuild the fragile boundaries we've just obliterated.
I dress in silence, aware of Antonio's eyes following my every movement. The air between us crackles with an electric attraction, like live wire waiting to be tripped. As I pull my shirt over my head, his fingers graze my lower back, sending a shiver cascading down my spine. Our gazes lock, and in that infinite moment, the world stands still.
It would be so easy to surrender again, to lose myself in the tempest of his touch. My resolve wavers, teetering on the precipice of shattering into a million pieces. The moment passes, fortunately, and Antonio withdraws his hand. An inscrutable look flickers across his chiseled features. He turns away, leaving me to finish dressing in peace.
I pause at the door with my hand on the knob. "I should go."
Antonio doesn't argue, doesn't stop me. He nods, his expression unreadable.
As I step out into the cool night air, a part of me aches to turn back, to lose myself in his embrace once more. His touch has seared a memory into my skin.
But I force myself to keep walking. Each step carries me further away from that dangerous edge. The loneliness that awaits me at home is an empty thing–but it's a cross I must bear, a penance for the choices I've made.
The walk back to my house is a blur, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. By the time I reach my door, I'm and drained. The brief respite I'd found in Antonio's arms is a little more than a fading memory.
As I collapse onto my bed, the familiar silence presses in around me, suffocating in its intensity. The loneliness is a physical ache, a gaping wound that refuses to heal. I curl into a ball, hugging my knees to my chest as I fight the onslaught of memories and ghosts. Phantom pains prickle across my skin, echoes of past traumas that never seem to fade, no matter how hard I try.