Chapter 3 #3
“I need you to trust me,” he murmurs, his voice filled with that commanding tone I’ve always found irresistible.
I don’t know why I do it. Perhaps it’s the vulnerability shining in those green depths that has me leaning into the unknown, or perhaps it’s the realization that I’ve been burying the truth of what I’ve been feeling since that first day in my office.
But there’s freedom within this surrender, an unshackling that whispers sweet temptations into my ears like a spell.
“Then show me,” I murmur, and the moment the words leave my lips, there’s a rush of electricity, a push that ignites the air around us.
With a fierce, unrelenting grip, he pulls me closer until my knees dangle off the edge of the desk, my heart racing as he crowds my space.
I gaze at him, contemplating the sheer enormity of everything that's happened.
Time has been unfair as fuck, and so have the scars left behind by the men I once turned to for comfort.
But the risk—God, the fucking risk sends desire surging through me.
“Michael,” I exhale, voice resolute but trembling at the edges.
“Good girl,” he replies, a grin breaking across his lips.
With one swift motion, he captures the back of my neck, his fingers digging in deeper than before, pulling me into him as he presses his mouth to mine, swallowing my gasps with hunger.
His kiss is a breathtaking storm, keeping me on the edge of reality and fantasy, and my mind begins to spiral as I lean into the delicious madness he incites.
His hands roam over my body, igniting pathways of sensation that have remained dormant for so long. There’s something about this man whose quiet affections have the power to dismantle everything I’ve fucking built up, shattering facades I know I should have kept intact.
“I want to see all of you, mamí,” he says, and I can’t help but feel a sense of recklessness push through me, breaking barriers I didn’t know I had.
Like why am I fucking nervous?
With eager hands, I grasp the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head in one fluid motion.
I watch the hunger light up in his eyes, a wildfire blazing through the flames as he takes me in.
The freedom in his gaze validates every piece of me—a vulnerability I thought I’d shielded in decayed shadows.
“Eres tan hermosa,” he whispers, sliding his palms down my sides, everything from his touch to his words leaving a mark on my spirit, fueling my need for this connection.
The lingering reservations of my mind scream to pull away, to remember the mission I’d outlined for myself.
To keep my heart protected, but the tangled thoughts of the storm I’ve fought through and failed to escape hum in the background like pointless white noise.
With every kiss, every elegy sung to my body and soul, I drift deeper into the saturation of his essence, letting him peel away the mask I’ve worn for too long.
Our bodies move in sync, a dance of need and urgency, as he takes control of the tempo—a rhythm pulsating with unbridled intensity. In our chaotic existence, we lose ourselves among the bodies and the souls, two frustrated spirits mingling in the art of survival, reinventing our pasts.
But as the fervor builds and the inevitable reckoning hangs in the air like prying eyes, the whispered thoughts of judgment and consequence brush lightly against my consciousness, taunting me as if to say that this very moment is a precarious gamble with stakes too high.
Yet for once, succumbing feels liberating, letting the remnants of fear flicker in the boundaries of my mind. I urge him on, pulling him against me with fevered enthusiasm that knows no restraint, embarking on a journey where the prowess of healing winds through faded shadows and tattered pieces.
He slides his cock inside me, enveloping me as our breaths come in tandem—an unspoken promise sealed between us amid the wreckage of everything we’ve endured.
He thrusts and grunts, nipping at my ear.
My hands graze up and down his chest, nails tracing over the sculpted muscles that make up most of his body.
"So fucking tight," he growls, words slipping from his mouth with ease and perfection. "So wet."
He fucks me harder, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other between my legs pulling on the ring in my clit, making my body jerk against his with every deep thrust. I buck my hips against him, desperate for more, and he slams into me harder with his eyes refusing to leave mine.
Nervously, I bite my lip, flashbacks of Blade and me starting to attack my mind, threatening to derail the moment at any given second.
I wrap my hands around his throat, catching him off guard.
His eyes widen as mine flicker with each flashback, and I choke him harder as the visions become more violent, needing to get snatched out of the past. Stealing his lips, I kiss him hard and desperate, hoping the difference will get Blade out of my head.
But I can't stop thinking about him. In fact, as Remi fucks me with deep, brutal strokes, I can feel my climax coming, tightning the muscles in my lower body.
And when I shake and my body locks up as I shower his cock with my release, it's Blade's face I'm getting off to, not Remi's.
Thankfully, he has no idea, and when I'm finished coming he pulls out of my soaked, sore pussy and spills his hot cum all over my lower stomach, watching it drip down my pussy.
"?ell fucking worth it," he pants, grabbing some wet wipes to help clean me up, silence falling between us shortly after.
Once I'm clean and we're both presentable, I walk on shaky legs to my office door, swaying my hips on purpose knowing Remi is right behind me watching. He snatches my wrist and pulls me against his chest, his heart sounding like a stampede.
“I'll see you at eight, Doctor Stone,” he whispers seductively, lips hovering over mine one last time.
In this chaos, who knows, we may just find ourselves again.