22. Twenty-Two #3
The notes of the song drifts between us, a melody that seems to bury every secret, one that makes me question at what point did I let Sara in, when did she intrusively make her way into my never-ending thoughts; was it when she was with Joe?
Was my hate directed at her because I refused to let myself want her, when I always wanted her?
Joe came first, he’s my blood, my twin but now fate made the choice for us, and here she is, in my arms, and nothing feels more like home than her flesh at the tip of my fingers but yet, I despise myself for feeling this way.
We sway to the music, our bodies fused together, and the thought that I’m maybe not built to let her go is weighing on me. The lines have blurred too far, and if I can’t have her, then no one will.
My hand lingers on her stomach, the warmth radiating from her skin igniting a fire within me.
With every rise and fall of her breath, I feel the soft brush against my ribs, each exhale on my skin sends shivers coursing through my veins.
I fight against the urge to pull away, to check for anyone lurking outside, but the magnetic pull of her body keeps me anchored in place.
My fingers begin their slow descent, tracing a path downwards, deliberately savoring the moment as if time itself has slowed to a crawl. Each inch I travel feels like a sacred exploration, a territory I yearn to claim, yet eats me alive for invading.
Her breath quickens, and I let my fingers glide lower, and with every inch, I’m reminded of the fragile line we are dancing upon; one that could either lead to salvation or destruction.
I graze under the hem of her shorts, wanting so badly to touch her, to feel her wet for me. Her hand is slowly caressing my forearm, her touch making me want to devour her.
Even though she has been naked in my arms before, this is different. This is a closeness begging upon desires of owning her until she doesn’t even remember her goddamn name.
Her eyes flutter, her lips part as she looks intoxicated by me. I lower my hand a little more, and my fingers press under the seam of her underwear.
I can’t look away from her face. Her eyes are closed, and I’m hard against her, and I know she can feel how badly I want her — fuck, I want her so fucking bad.
I lower my hand another inch, and her breath escapes too quickly, her eyes spring open, and when our eyes lock, something between trust and fear flickers in her.
If I could mirror anything back to her right now, it would be that it’s too late, that she’s fucking mine.
I stare at her lips, lick my bottom one, aching to taste her, to swallow her screams and hear my name on her tongue.
Her hand cups my cheek. Her eyes burn into mine as though she’s allowing me to see a side of her no one has ever touched. I feel how monumental this is; it’s more than a connection, it’s catharsis.
“Why can’t you keep your hands off me, Liam?” she whispers against my lips, her voice barely audible, as my finger finds her clit over her underwear, and carefully apply the smallest pressure. Her breath halts, and she whimpers with relief.
I sway, holding her closer, the need to be inside her almost unbearable. I sigh, “I don’t know what you do to me, Sara.”
Her fingers trace the curve of my shoulder with reverent hesitation. “I like the way you are looking at me.”
“And how am I looking at you?” I ask, brushing my lips against her cheek, and my fingers draw small circles, her underwear soaked through.
“Like obsession,” she breathes, inches away from my mouth, and I press myself against her as I say,
“It’s ownership, Sara. That’s how I’m looking at you.” My mouth grazes her lips. “And you’re so wet for it, aren’t you?”
“Mm-hmm, make me forget who I was before you,” she murmurs, arching into me, and the pressure of her ass against me makes me jolt, as her breath catches, leaving a tiny moan that makes me lose my mind.
I growl in her ear, “You don’t know what you’re asking.
Once I do, I’ll own every single part of you, and I won’t stop.
I’ll tear into you until all that’s left is my name on your tongue.
” I nip at her neck, trail kisses down her skin, inhaling her.
“You’ll regret you were ever on my path, signing your soul over to me. ”
She wraps her arms over my neck and grinds her ass against my cock, deeper, tilting her neck for better access. A soft laugh escapes her. “I’m already consumed by regret, Liam.”
My hand moves her underwear to the side, and she bites her lip at the burning need of my touch. I know exactly what she needs, and I need to touch her like I need air. I rub her clit and her head falls back, stifling a moan.
My lips rest so close to hers, our breaths catching, buzzing, the vibration of our souls screaming. I want to plunge my fingers inside her but seeing her so needy is awakening the pure animalistic need to play with her first.
“If you’re going to kiss me again, Liam, then do it and don’t you dare touch me with regret.” She quietly murmurs against my all-consuming hunger.
Her assertiveness burns me up, but the line we’re about to cross haunts me like Joe’s ghost at my back.
“Sara, my only regret is that I didn’t ruin you first.”
I thread her hair through my fist, lowering my gaze, my lips over hers, when a noise cracks by the window and my gut drops.