Chapter 24 #2
Nala’s so-called Mistress said nothing. This self-described Domme, a woman who proclaimed to be in charge, landed flat on her back and accommodated Nala taking the vibrator that had just been in her own body. Why not? It belonged on Varen’s clit now.
“Come for me,” Nala urged, carnal fury beading like sweat across her skin. “One more time, Mistress. Do it for me.” She almost lost her grip on the wet vibrator as she beheld the intense trembling of Varen’s broken body. “For your Nala.”
Five seconds later, Varen covered her face and screamed, her whole body sliding up and down against the comforter as the direct stimulation of the vibrator to her clit completely unraveled her.
Nala committed the vision to memory. No matter what happened after that night, she would know that she did this to Varen, the woman more wound up than a ball of twine.
The sounds of the vibrator were soon muffled on the floor, where Nala cast it the moment Varen sat up and consumed her with kisses. That act alone was more desperate and hedonistic than anything else they shared until then.
“That was amazing,” Varen muttered into the crook of Nala’s neck when she was back on top of her again “You’re amazing.”
Nala pushed Varen’s long, unrestrained hair out of her face and took a deep breath. She was in a fog, a haze as Varen attempted to cuddle her. Nala didn’t want to fight it. Everything in her heart told her to turn over and give in to the temptation like she gave in to everything else.
It was intimate. It was romantic. Her, in Varen’s arms, feeling her breathing steadily against her as Nala was reminded to whom she belonged. Yet as the haze gradually dispersed from Nala’s brain, her fight-or-flight response kicked in, begging her to flee.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Varen pulled her back down as Nala fought to get up. “I know you want to leave like you always do. I’m not saying you can’t go home tonight, but give me at least a few minutes of feeling your body next to mine.”
Nala gave into it, resting against Varen as fingers slowly caressed the curve of her back. She leaned her cheek against Varen’s chest and stared into the darkness.
Don’t fall in love.
Her heart leaped in her throat at the prospect.
Don’t fall in love.
She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling the natural scent of the woman she so wanted to leave. Soon. Nala could go home soon. Until then, she was Varen’s prisoner, fighting to escape.
Entry 11
Nightingale’s words continue to echo. What I did to her replays even more.
Other things happened tonight, but what I remember most are her harsh admonishments about how I behave toward her. And what I do to her.
I told myself… I told myself I would not feel anything more than physical desire for her.
It’s just sex, I tell myself. We’re hopped up on desire because of the nature of our infiltration.
Surrounded by sex all night. It’s only natural for me to get antsy around a beautiful woman.
Let alone one who finds me attractive as well.
But isn’t it fucking hilarious that I’m acting like the needy one.
ME! I had to beg her to stay a few extra minutes tonight so I could, what, “bathe in the afterglow?”
I don’t know how else to say it. I gave her everything I had.
I told her that she had awakened the beast roaring inside of me, and she had to survive it.
She did. She did so well that I think she may get off on how rough and needy she makes me.
We are a sick pair.
It’s insane. Even now, spent from sex and with the usual droopy eyelids, I can only think of everything I want to do to her.
Tie her up until she can’t move and at my whim.
I want to mount her like a monster and leave my mark all over her tiny body.
It’s so easy to wrap my whole body around her and consume her fucking soul.
No woman has made me feel like this. No woman, ever.
Not even Desirée stirred such monstrously possessive feelings inside of me.
I’m sure the potential was there, but I was “normal” back then.
I didn’t know what it meant to be so angry and bitter.
I didn’t have those blackened emotions to channel through sex.
The first woman I was with after Desirée was five months later.
I felt so guilty, so ashamed that I purposely got fuck-plastered drunk with a woman and probably spent a whole two seconds having sex with her. I couldn’t go more.
I’ve prided myself on staying true to Desirée’s memory, even though I know it’s not realistic.
Most would have moved on by now. They still care, they still love the woman they’ve lost, but they move on.
Nala reminded me of that tonight. The idea that I could love again…
that there is room in this fucked up heart for more than one person is so beyond me.
Desirée was it. I knew she was the love of my life two days into dating her.
The way our hearts sang together was like the art we created in bed.
Now I hear a bird chirping at my window late at night. It’s hours after dusk and even more hours until dawn. Yet it sings. A nightingale. It’s all in my head, but it’s there, nonetheless.
Nightingale may have run from me, but her spirit is here, singing to me. The most beautiful voice I’ve heard in three years.
Is it wrong? Was she right? I wish Desirée were here to give me an answer.
Would you be mad, Desirée? Can I still see you in Heaven even if my heart moves on?
The only thing I fear in this world is losing someone I love. If I love Nightingale, I will have to fight to keep her alive. And fight to keep her by my side, never running away again. I feel that the first will be easier than the latter.