12. Konstantin
12
KONSTANTIN
There’s a hollow feeling in my heart, one that gets more intense by the moment.
Loss.
Even thinking about how close I came to losing Emily feels like my soul is being torn from my body. It feels insane to imagine that something might right happen to her, when she’s safe in my arms, so vibrant and alive.
But I touch her like it could. It’s all I can do.
I take her chin and turn her toward me. She resists at first, but I’m stronger. I kiss away her salty tears. I want to ask her why she’s crying, but I know the answer.
I can’t bear the idea she could utter something worse than what the demonic voices already haunting me are singing.
Nothing you haven’t already done.
Intentionally or not.
You. You. You.
Me.
So I say nothing.
Sliding down her body, I pull her bottom lip with my teeth. I can’t make her forgive me … I can only make her feel good. I lean into that realization.
My mouth runs over the bridge of her jaw as I glide away. I shift to the dip where her throat meets her chest. Emily pants, her rib cage expanding quicker as she struggles to handle her rising anticipation.
I nuzzle her skin, breathing in the smell of her. When I glance up her body, I notice she’s closed her eyes.
“Emily,” I whisper, “look at me.”
“Why?”
“I just want you to,” I groan. “Please, do this much for me.”
Emily shifts on the bed and I don’t ask again as I bury my face to her breasts.
I run my nose along the perfect curves. Her heart thuds through her skin with such force I think I could see the impression of it beneath her skin if I looked long enough. Lightly squeezing one nipple, I curl my tongue around it, drawing a delicious tremble from her.
I don’t try to tell her how much it scared me to learn that she was on Capri, or how much it hurt me at the thought that she ran the moment I left her by herself.
Because even if I did, she won’t tell me why.
And no amount of asking will bring me my answers.
So instead, I’m driven to hear more of her moans, and tease out one scream after another from her.
Emily whimpers. I glance up, and to my shock, she’s watching me. I asked her to look, and she is. She catches me looking back at her, and she doesn’t flinch or look away.
Her lips are partially open, ragged breaths exiting. Her fingers wind into the blanket to find a hold, doing everything she can to brace herself before the convulsions of pleasure attack again .
She’s come once already. We both know she’s going to come a second time. I want this one to be different.
I want her to come while I’m inside of her.
Licking her nipples, I’m certain to be extra gentle. She leans into my touch, moaning. My cock thickens to the point of discomfort. I kiss her ribs, her belly, and along the contours of her hip. Her pussy calls to me, her unique scent—honeysuckle and brown sugar—washing all thoughts away from my mind.
I plant a kiss at her wet entrance, but I don’t linger, even when the taste of her makes me delirious.
I can’t wait any longer.
I want this to last forever, but at the same time, my body is going mad with need.
The fullness of my cock hangs hot and heavy in my palm. I guide it over her slit until the engorged tip is glistening. She’s still watching me, eyelashes draping over her dilated pupils. The blush high on her cheeks betrays how turned on she is.
I don’t ask her permission, but I wait, watching, for a sign. Emily moves her head in an imperceptible nod. Her teeth worry her bottom lip until the pink skin goes red. Pushing forward with my hips, I drive into her inch by aching inch.
Sparks of white fly in my vision. How wonderful she feels, gripping my cock like a vise. I grunt loudly. I’m being wrapped in slippery silk, luxurious and exciting and wrong all at the same time.
“God,” I breathe.
“No God,” she whispers back. “Only you.”
Those words force me to thrust the last of my length inside of her. She yelps in surprise, mixed with passion. Settling my weight over her, hands on either side of the pillow, I rock my hips, fucking her with long slow strokes.
The control I need to keep from slamming into her at full velocity is immense. I follow the rhythm of my heart, my pace increasing every few seconds until soon the sound of our bodies slamming together resonates through the room. The bed slides against the wall, thudding like a leather-stretched drum.
Something light grazes the inside of my wrist—her nails. Cautiously I set one hand on top of hers. Emily’s eyes widen as she realizes what I’m doing. To my amazement, she doesn’t pull away. Her other hand finds mine, fingers sliding through the gaps to link us. She squeezes tight.
Settling into the bed as my pumping becomes more frantic, I lose my rhythm. My orgasm is surfacing. It starts as a buzzing knot at the bottom of my rib cage, expanding out and down until all my muscles are electrified. The need to come is dizzying.
Groaning haltingly, I flex my thighs, powering into her harder. My cock swells. I hold back, not wanting this to be the end.
She lets out a small sound at the base of her throat. Her hands grip mine, and then I hear it.
A whisper so soft I thought I missed it. But I know I didn’t. Her eyes are shut now. I wonder if I imagined it.
“Konstantin.”
The sound of my name on her lips kicks me over the edge. She comes a second before I do. My head tosses back, roaring, as I empty myself into her. Her pussy milks me, drains me, and takes everything I have. I’m drenched in sweat, and hot salty drops fall down onto her trembling body.
We slide together fluidly. I lie on top of her until her last aftershock fades, and then I wait a heartbeat longer. Our bodies are cold, temperatures dropping before I roll off her, detaching until I can lie beside her in bed.
And all I can think is the same damn thing running through my mind.
Nothing I haven’t already done.
Intentionally or not.
I’ve experienced many losses in my life. None of them have been easy, but every tragedy has made me stronger than the last, building layers of scar tissue that formed armor to protect me from the next wound.
But the thought of losing Emily …
I know that will be a wound I can’t ever recover from.