Chapter 15 – “Cherry” - Lana Del Rey #2
I slide my hand up her leg, fingers dancing along her thigh. The heat of her flesh and the goosebumps on her skin tell me how much she craves my touch.
“Stop fighting me, Little Vice.” Her eyes flare at the name.
My palm glides along the dip of her waist, but I don’t go near the place she needs me most. Moving to her breast, I brush my thumb across her nipple piercing.
“You’re no better than I am.” I hover over her, bending down so that she can feel my breath against her skin when I murmur, “You know how badly you want to be ruined by me.”
“August,” she cries, body jerking as I flick my tongue over her nipple, the metal of the barbell cool against my lips.
“Beg, Elena,” I demand once more.
“Please.” The word comes out a breathless whisper, but it’s all the surrender I need. The submission that reminds us both she’s fucking mine.
“Please what?” I ask.
“Please…” Her breath hitches, eyes glistening in the moonlight filtering through the window. “Fuck me.”
I laugh against her flesh, relishing in the feeling of having her exactly where I want her. Needy and at my mercy.
I rise off the bed, kicking off my underwear and stepping out of my joggers. The air hangs heavy between Elena and me, standing before each other without clothing.
Not naked, not bare, because both of our walls are higher than ever. We’re guarded and untrusting, merely chasing sensation with physical touch because we’ve both reached the point of combustion in the other’s presence. If we don’t find some way to pierce this tension, we’ll crumble entirely.
I kneel on the bed. “Keep showing me your pretty cunt, Little Vice.”
Her eyes fall closed, head falling back as she rolls a peaked nipple between her fingers, back arching when she spreads her fingers wider, exposing herself to me, and I’m fucking aching.
“Tell me what you want,” I command, voice gruff and strained.
“I want you to fuck me, Augustus,” she whispers.
“Why do you cry my name when you come? Why do you see me when you touch yourself?” She moves two fingers over her clit, rolling them in slow circles. I press my hand against them, halting her movement and adding just enough pressure over her most sensitive place to make her tremble. “Answer me.”
Her eyes snap open, blazing through me with equal parts lust and longing. “The last time I remember feeling anything at all was when I was wrapped up in your touch,” she admits, her tone timid and soft. “I can’t help it if it’s you I picture when I’m chasing euphoria.”
Her answer sends insanity barreling through my veins, my vision damn-near blurred with rage. Because it’s her fucking fault she’s so numb—that we’re both so numb. Her fucking fault we’ve been reduced to nothing but dust and desperation and daydreams.
She destroyed us, and now she’s returned, taunting me with remnants of everything she left behind.
“You know what your touch reminds me of?” I slide my hand up her stomach, closing it around her throat, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. “Pain.”
I finally drop my hips to meet hers, feeling the slick slide of her arousal as my cock nestles itself between the lips of her pussy. I don’t allow myself to sink inside her, though.
“You once said you loved the pain I cause,” she chokes out, voice vibrating against my palm.
“I do.” I smile, thrusting so that the head of my cock flicks against her clit. She gasps, hands latching onto my forearm as her eyes roll back. “And I sure as fuck am going to enjoy punishing you too.”
“Are you going to fuck me now?”
“No.” I huff a rough laugh, and her brow furrows.
“I’m not stupid enough to sell my soul to the devil.
I’m not going to fuck you, Elena.” I pump again, still refusing to notch myself inside her, but allowing my cock to move between her slit, adding pressure to her clit and coating myself in her wetness. “But I’ll still make you cry my name.”
“God,” she groans, throat tightening in my grip.
“God’s not here, Little Vice. You pray to me now.”
I move my cock between her thighs, pulsating at the feel of her slick skin, her pussy lips wrapped around me.
Her tits bounce with each thrust, the jewelry through her nipples glinting in the moonlight.
I’m going to fucking come like this. I don’t even need to be inside her.
I don’t need her mouth or her hand. Just her flesh grazing mine is enough to send me over the edge.
One of my bars notches against her clit, and she inhales swiftly, eyes blowing wide. “Fuck,” she cries. “Are you pierced?”
I nod, panting through clenched teeth as I fight back the urge to well and truly fuck her. My self-control is hanging by a thread, and I deserve a goddamn medal for the restraint I’m expressing in this moment.
“How…many?”
“Why don’t you count for me?” I slow my movements, dragging the first bar of my ladder against her clit. “Out loud, Elena.”
Her legs tremble at my waist, and I know that she’s tightening around nothing—so fucking desperate to have me inside her. “One?”
I nod, inching my hips forward.
“Two,” she gasps.
“Good.” I thrust once more. “Almost there.”
Her eyes roll back, nails digging into my back. “Three.”
I nod again, moving faster but keeping my base firmly placed over her clit so she can feel them with each thrust. I know it’s heightening the sensation for her; I can see it in the way she quivers uncontrollably. She’s fighting to hold it back, but she’s on the brink of losing herself.
“Ask me when, Elena. Ask me why.” The words are hardly audible through my clenched teeth, as I hold on to my composure, hot need barreling down my spine and gathering at the base of it.
I drop to my elbow, bringing our faces closer together—close enough that my forehead rests against hers.
Her eyes rage and glisten, near-black with lust, lids fluttering in a fight to stay open.
She slips a full lip between her teeth, and I’m so entranced by her ethereal beauty that I damn near forget the question I was asking.
Damn near forget why I want to hate her so badly.
She’s the kind of allure, the kind of touch and warmth, that makes you want to fall in love instead. Let her demolish and destroy and obliterate you only so you can thank her when it’s done.
With her so fucking close—lips full, plush, and inviting—I’m pulsing, aching.
But more than anything, I just want to kiss her.
I want to remember the simplicity of her mouth and the ease of her lips against my own.
The way Elena kisses me feels like wrongs being righted, like the world tilting on its axis in a way that makes the sun shine brighter.
Like her lips could alter reality and unravel the fabric of the universe itself.
It’s been years since our last kiss, but I still feel it in my mouth and on my tongue—with every word I speak, every breath I take.
It’s inescapable, it’s torturous, and I never want to let it go.
Wrapped up in her body, feeling her writhe beneath me, whimpering my name—I want nothing more than to kiss her again.
To be reminded of light after an eternity in darkness.
“When?” she asks, voice a timid whisper, breaking me from my enchantment. “When did you get your piercing?”
My eyes snap to hers, and I realize I’ve slowed my tempo, hardly moving my hips as my cock nestles between her slit. It’s throbbing, and I know all she’d have to do is clench her thighs to make me come, but I’ll be damned if I get off without her doing the same.
“January thirteenth.” I begin thrusting through her lips again. “Four years ago. That was the first one.” Her breath hitches as I knock one bar against her clit, sliding my hips upward so the next one brushes it too. “The second one I added exactly one year later.”
Her features twist in recognition, that realization warring with the pleasure I’m sending through her veins as I rub my bars against her.
She knows exactly what the date January 13 means.
I woke up that morning flooded with texts by her brothers attempting to make sense of what had happened.
I didn’t care. I had received her message loud and crystal clear.
I turned off my phone, drove down to San Diego, and spent two weeks staying with my former mentor, Jensen.
That day, though, nothing was going to numb the pain she’d caused.
Nothing was going to distract me from it.
I knew that, but in an attempt to chase the hurt, I pierced my cock.
Pierced my tongue, too. Had Jensen start a rib piece—whatever body modifications I could imagine causing me the most amount of pain, whatever I could do to drown out her absence.
I thrust my cock an inch higher, finally resting that last bar over her bud. “Third one I had done on January thirteenth, too. Last year.”
She gasps, and her hands grip my waist, twisting in the fabric of my shirt as she flushes us closer together. She begins to move her hips in sync with mine, meeting me with each pump. Sparks fly up my spine, electricity humming between us like a living current.
“Why”—she pants between words—“didn’t you add a fourth one last month?”
I slide my hand from her neck, bracketing her jaw and brushing my thumb over her full bottom lip, her tongue flicking out in anticipation, briefly meeting my skin.
“Because you’re home now. Under my roof,” I rasp, slipping my finger into her mouth, and she moans, accepting it. “Where you fucking belong.”
Like a dam being demolished, Elena bursts.
Head flying back, my name crawling out of her throat on a cry.
Her body shakes uncontrollably, nails digging into my ribs as she loses herself.
Despite not being inside her, I feel her release gushing over the base of my cock, dripping down my balls, her thighs clenching and quivering.
I fucking explode, my tip pulsing as cum spurts between her pussy, spilling onto her stomach. My forehead falls against hers, both hands twisting in her hair behind her head as my strength gives out. We become a mess of tangled limbs, broken tension, and sated sighs.
I couldn’t count how many times I’ve orgasmed over the last four years—whether by my hand or someone else’s, but what I do know is that none of them could compare to this feeling.
Elena’s breath, her touch, her endless eyes.
Being wrapped in her is a sensation beyond description, beyond language.
Nothing I could chase—pride or lust or greed—would measure up to her.
She is the ultimate vice, and there is no escaping it.
No cleanse to rid me of the addiction, the habit, or the craving. I’m not sure I see a point in trying anymore. Maybe I don’t mind being infected; maybe I’ve only ever been meant to chase her anyway.
Deafening quiet blankets over us, the only sound our mingled breath and the drumming of our hearts.
Elena’s hand snakes underneath the hem of my shirt, fingers tracing my back, gliding over my sweat-slicked skin.
I tremble at her touch, savoring the moment before I know it’s no longer appropriate to be collapsed on top of her, and I have to pull away.
She sighs as I do, almost like she wishes I wouldn’t.
I sit back on my knees, unable to stop myself from running a finger through the release pooling on her stomach, gliding it across her skin and between the valley of her breasts.
Elena watches with rapt attention. “You made a mess of me.”
I bring two fingers to her mouth, nudging at her lips. She opens, allowing me to dip them inside as she licks my cum away. “Now you know how you make me feel all the time.”
Her eyes flare, but she doesn’t respond when I remove my fingers from her mouth, stepping off the bed and putting on my pants and underwear. She stays in place as I dart into her bathroom, wetting a cloth and returning to the bed, wiping my release from her stomach and between her slit.
“Did you get it out of your system, Augustus?” she asks as I toss the cloth in the hamper beside her bed. “Have you been reminded that I’m nothing more than flesh and bone?”
No. I’ve been reminded that you’re absolutely everything.
“Is the game over now?” she continues, crossing her legs and propping an arm behind her head as she watches me.
“Nah, baby,” I taunt as I reach for the door. “We’re just getting started.”