Chapter 48 #2
When he slowly pulled away, I exhaled, watching the flashes of light that bounced off the surface of the pool.
It was magical, beautiful, but I could not help being a little disappointed.
I could not look at him, I did not want him to see that I was uncommonly greedy, not what a woman should be like.
I wanted to enjoy sex just like a man. In every relationship I had, I was always dissatisfied.
Just then Victor pulled me to his lap. I gasped as his rigid length reached even deeper inside me.
“I thought you were done,” I managed to say.
“Done?” His lips curved and his hands wrapped around my waist as he lifted me up.
I had never worked my hips so hard. The sides of my knees scraped the hard floor. Victor paused, sucking on my breasts, breaking the rhythm, and I could not wait any longer. I pushed him on his back and straightened on top of him, taking him even deeper. He gasped as I rode him fast and hard.
Slowly, the timid flower bloomed. One by one, its petals unfurled, letting loose all the uncertainty, and leaving only scorching hot, blissful euphoria.
I moaned, closing my eyes. My head jolted back as I took everything he was giving me.
An overwhelming, endlessly beautiful swell of ecstasy washed over me, baring my heart and exposing my soul, soothing every wound I received while I waited for this moment.
“That was . . .” I stretched on top of him, looking into his eyes. “Now I know why girls are so crazy about you.”
“You do?” he whispered.
I leaned forward to kiss his lips, just then his solid, agonizingly hot flesh brushed against my stomach and I stared at his light gray eyes, not believing what that meant.
“Didn’t you . . .?” I breathed.
Victor turned me on my back and settled between my legs.
“What are you . . .?”
He lifted my hips onto his lap, the rest of my body was still on the floor.
This time he was in full control. The sides of my hips burned with fire as his fingers dug into my skin, possessive and strong.
My shoulders grazed against the floor, but only moments later, a new tormenting and torturous wave rose in my core.
I braced myself against the tiles, pressing my forearms against the floor.
I could feel the beads of sweat on my skin, the scent of my own arousal in the air, and the flashes of light that blurred behind my eyes.
At this moment, I lost control of my body.
I turned into a force of nature; savage, untamed, frantic, defiant, and free.
I was sore, my skin rubbed raw, and I did not think my body had anything left to give.
But then my inner muscles contracted, and the entire world stopped, and then shattered into oblivion.
I lied there, dazed and disoriented, and so incredibly confused. This night was different in so many ways, unlike anything I had ever experienced before and I would need days to wrap my head around everything that just happened.
Victor leaned over me. He no longer looked composed, in control. There was something in his eyes demanding, obsessive.
“Get on your knees, Frid.”
“What?”
“I want you to remember this night.”
“There’s clearly no way . . . I would ever forget—”
“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He repeated.
Maybe it was the fumes from the pool, or the heat.
Or maybe my brain was completely fried after all the sex, because my body moved, seemingly on its own.
When I pressed the palms of my hands against the stone floor, I could feel Victor kneeling between my weakened and shaky thighs.
I bit my lip waiting for him, and with his first thrust, my head spun.
I whimpered, tightening my muscles around his painfully hot, powerful arousal.
I let out a soft cry. Flashes danced in front of my eyes, and the need, once again, turned uncontrollable and ravaging.
My release was a mix of pleasure and pain.
Then my world melted into the night, leaving me in the wake of something unbelievably beautiful and real.
Still half dazed, I rested on his chest. My hand traveled along his torso, feeling the strength of his muscles. His body felt so warm, so familiar. There was nothing uncomfortable, nothing out of place. It felt like it was meant to be all along.
“Frid?”
“Huh?”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. Although, I’m going back to the pool as soon as I feel my legs again.”
“Sorry. I spent a long time fantasizing about you.”
“Really? How long?” I propped myself up on my elbow to better see his face. A lazy smile stretched his lips, he looked up toward the ceiling, not intending to respond. “How long?” I repeated. He shook his head. “How long did your dirty little mind picture me without clothes?”
“Since I was eleven or twelve.”
“That long?”
“I don’t think you even thought about boys.”
“No. I didn’t. I think I was a late bloomer.”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You only saw me as your childhood friend.”
“I don’t—”
“When you started dating that loser. I knew you would . . .” his jaw clenched.
He sighed and closed his eyes. In the light of the torch his eyelashes looked like they had been brushed with golden dust.
“What?”
“I knew he was going to be your first. I got myself so drunk that I blacked out on the street. Sol carried me back to the inn. I couldn’t handle it. I was so angry, I lost my mind. But it wasn’t fair to you because you had no idea that you were destroying me.”
I touched the side of his face and leaned over him, kissing the corner of his mouth.
So much time we could have had, but we lost it all, blinded by our false convictions, our pride, and misunderstanding of each other.
All those years we could have been together, holding each other every night, and being what we should have been for each other.
But we still had tomorrow, and I was not willing to waste another minute.
“What about Niall? Did you do something to him?”
“Who? That pathetic little worm you dated?”
“Yes.” I laughed, thinking that his description was spot on.
“I might have beat him up a little.”
“He came to me complaining that you broke his arm.”
“He was exaggerating.”
“He said that you wanted to cut it off, but Ty intervened.”
“Not recalling that part.”
“What about this?” My fingers slid down to his hip and my pinky grazed the corner of the inky design.
Now I could clearly see a lone flower with pointed petals, facing upward, but turned against swirls of wind.
Victor watched me. His eyes turned serious.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t you know what it is?”
“No. I have no idea.”
“Stormflower.”
That simple word shattered something deep in my soul. I had heard the word before, he used it once, years ago, when we were children. He called me Stormflower.
“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I whispered, brushing my lips against his.