Chapter 28 #2
He played her body so easily. All he had to do was touch her and she was on fire. She hated that.
Elric slid his knee up hard, pressing the muscles of his thigh where she ached the most. She could feel how wet she already was; even worse, somehow he managed to press his knee right against her clit. Sparks of pleasure danced behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut.
All of this was made even worse because she didn’t hate what he did to her. She just hated that she had no choice in the matter. That she’d been wanting this, needing this, and it wasn’t just about the sex.
Because his hands made her feel wanted. The breathy sounds he made against her neck made her proud of what she could do to him. And the closeness when his fingers danced along the edge of her waistband? It made her feel like the goddess he swore he worshipped, after all.
Again, he groaned against her neck before giving up on her pants and moving his hand underneath her shirt. He cupped her breast beneath it, that same groan again echoing in his throat.
Like a starving man, he begged her with every needy noise. This wasn’t a side of him she’d seen before.
Gripping his hair, she urged his head down so he caught the tip of her breast in his mouth. The way he immediately swirled his tongue around her nipple, scraping her with his teeth. His other hand encouraged her leg to wrap around his hips.
He rocked against her. Every nerve ending in her body fired white hot as his cock ground against her through their clothing.
She wanted him so badly, and she hated that this entire interaction was cursed by what he had done.
Because she wanted his dirty words in her ear.
She wanted to feel every bit of him thrusting inside of her.
But, she supposed, he had said he wanted her to use him. If this was his way of making amends, even if it wasn’t entirely going to work, then she would do it.
Because perhaps this was her way to make amends as well. Jessamine hated how she’d hurt him by distancing herself. He was right, after all. She was punishing both of them.
Grabbing his hair again, she yanked him back to her lips. “This changes nothing.”
“Not a single thing.”
“I’m still mad at you.” She wrestled with his belt, tearing it off like the long tail of a whip and throwing it into the garden behind him.
“I would expect nothing less.” He grabbed onto her pants and yanked them down, hard. They tangled around her thighs for a moment before he managed to get them off and let them pool at her feet. “You hate me now.”
Growling, she kissed him hard enough to taste blood. “I could never hate you, Elric. That’s the problem. I want to hate you for what you did, but you are still breathing and so I cannot hate you. Because the only thing that would make me actually hate you is losing you.”
He appeared shocked for a moment, but she barely let him think about the words before she grabbed his cock. Then he wasn’t thinking about anything other than her fingers wrapped around the base of him, choking all the thoughts out of his mind.
He grabbed onto her waist again, tossing her up the wall and steadying her with his body.
With a single thrust, he was in her. She threw her head back, her eyes caught on the stars as she was stretched nearly beyond her limits. Even Elric froze, their breath held as they both paused.
She shouldn’t look at him. This wasn’t about connection. This was about using him to feel better about herself and to distract herself from… everything.
But her gaze still moved. She looked at him, at his face framed by starlight and the silhouettes of unkept roses behind him, and all she could think was how handsome he was.
How much her heart hurt when he was around because some part of her was terrified about what it would mean if she stayed here with him. Losing herself to a god? Was she mad?
He’d shown her all those memories to make it very clear that he was terrified he would become like them. That someday he would lose every ounce of his humanity and his respect for the people who worshipped him.
Elric shook as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Not a biting, angry kiss like all the others. No, this one was soft. An apology whispered through the soft glide of his tongue against her bottom lip.
“I am so sorry I cling to you, nightmare,” he whispered. “It’s just that you make me feel like I actually exist.”
She sucked in a ragged breath. This was too much. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. Not right now.
So she shifted her hips, arching so that she drew back and then slammed back down against him. This she knew. Pleasure and pain mixed together as they tangled around each other.
He hissed out a breath and his hands clutched at her hips.
Together, they spun into madness. With every thrust, she forgot what she was angry about.
With every slap of his skin against hers, she could tell herself that her heart wasn’t breaking because of all the things she had to decide were right or wrong.
His fingers bruised her skin. She reached for his hair again, tugging on it far too hard as she forced him to do what she wanted, what would feel good for her and not him. Because this wasn’t about him.
And yet it was. Because with every hissed breath, every gasp, every aching cry that slipped out even though she didn’t mean for it to do so, she found her heart starting to forgive him.
Pleasure fractured. She could feel herself spinning out of control, growing more and more tense.
“I can feel you,” he hissed, his teeth bared in an animalistic snarl. “Come for me, nightmare. Let me feel you unravel.”
At his order, she did. Splintering apart with a moan even as he joined her. Spilling inside of her in a wet gush that she could feel already dripping down her thighs.
He let her legs go. One after the other.
They stood there, panting for a few moments. He stared at the wall behind her shoulder. She stared over his shoulder at the roses.
Then, he swallowed audibly and nodded. “Sleep well, nightmare.”
She watched him walk away with her eyes burning. Tongue tucked into her cheek, she told herself not to call him back. He couldn’t just do that. He couldn’t just fuck her and then leave because he felt bad for what he had done.
But she supposed, in a way, she felt bad, too. This fractured version of them didn’t feel right.