18. Back To Her #2
My jaw tightens. Those words shouldn’t hit me the way they do, but they do. Because I know exactly what she means. This isn’t about just missing my presence. It’s deeper than that. It’s the ache of being apart, of being ripped from each other after everything we’ve endured.
I cup her face, brushing my thumb along her cheek, and lean in slowly. I don’t rush. I want her to feel this. To understand this.
When our lips meet, it’s not desperate or hurried. It’s deliberate. Certain. She exhales softly against me, her fingers tightening in my shirt as she pulls me closer. The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world.
Guiding her towards the plush rug near the fireplace, I was acutely aware of the enchanting atmosphere around us. The soft melody from the baby grand piano filled the air, and the warm glow of the flames danced on the walls, casting a golden hue over Nichole's beautiful face.
Her eyes, a deep shade of brown, sparkled with a mixture of emotions—love, longing, and a hint of uncertainty. I wanted to erase any doubts she had, to make her feel safe and cherished.
With gentle but firm hands, I lowered her onto the rug, my eyes never leaving hers. Her blonde hair fanned out around her like a halo, and I couldn't help but run my fingers through it, reveling in its softness.
She smiled up at me, her lips still swollen from our kiss, and I felt my heart clench with a mixture of love and desire.
"I love you, Nichole," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion. "I thought I'd lost you for good."
She reached up, her hand brushing against my jaw, tracing the line of my stubble. "You'll never lose me, Damian. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. And I love you too"
Her words sent a rush of relief through me, and I leaned down to capture her lips once more. This kiss was different; it was hungrier, more urgent. I could feel her passion matching my own, and it ignited a fire within me.
My hands roamed over her body, exploring the curves I had longed to touch again. Her skin was like silk, and I couldn't get enough of the feel of her.
As I slowly undid the buttons of her shirt, revealing her smooth, creamy skin, I took my time, enjoying the anticipation.
Her breath quickened, and her eyes fluttered closed as my fingers brushed against her collarbone.
I wanted to memorize every inch of her, to make up for the time we'd been apart.
"You're so fucking sexy," I murmured, my lips trailing kisses down her neck, making her shiver. "I've dreamed of this moment, of having you here with me again."
Nichole's hands found their way to my chest, her touch sending shivers of pleasure through me. I could feel her heart racing, and it mirrored my own. We were both caught up in a whirlwind of emotions, our past and present colliding in this intimate moment.
I kissed my way down her body, pausing to pay homage to her tattoo—the intricate portrait of a woman's face surrounded by flowers and butterflies. It was a work of art, just like her. I kissed each butterfly, my lips brushing against her soft skin, making her squirm with pleasure.
"Damian, please," she whispered, her voice laced with need. "I want you... all of you."
Her plea sent a jolt of desire straight to my core. I wanted to give her everything, to show her how much she meant to me.
I positioned myself between her thighs, my hands caressing her hips, feeling the softness of her skin against my palms. I looked into her eyes, seeing the love and trust she had for me, and it fueled my own passion.
With one smooth motion, I entered her, feeling her warmth envelop me. She gasped, her eyes fluttering open, and I paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the sensation. But it was clear she wanted more, needed more.
"Take me, Damian," she pleaded, her hands gripping my shoulders. "Make me feel alive."
Her words were like a command, and I obeyed, thrusting slowly at first, savoring the tightness around me. I watched her face, seeing the pleasure and satisfaction in her expression as I moved within her. Her breath came in short gasps, and her nails dug into my skin, leaving marks of passion.
I quickened my pace, my body moving in a rhythm as old as time, driven by the overwhelming need to show her how much I loved her.
Each stroke was a declaration of my desire, my devotion.
The fire behind us crackled, as if in tune with our escalating passion, its warmth adding to the intensity of the moment.
Nichole's body moved with mine, her hips rising to meet my thrusts, her hands exploring my back, tracing the tattoos that told the story of my past. I could feel her getting closer to the edge, her moans becoming more urgent, and I wanted to take her there, to the pinnacle of pleasure.
"Come with me, Nichole," I growled, my voice raw with desire. "Let go..."
As if on cue, her body tightened around me, and she cried out, her release washing over her. I followed her, my own climax building and then exploding, filling me with a sense of completion. I collapsed onto her, our hearts pounding in unison, our sweat-slicked bodies intertwined.
We lay there, breathless, in the aftermath of our passionate reunion.
The piano's melody had changed, now playing a softer, more romantic tune, as if celebrating our love.
I kissed her forehead, tasting the salt of our mingled sweat, and whispered, "I love you, Nichole. I'll never let you go again."
She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I love you too, Damian.
The fire has burned lower, the embers glowing faintly in the hearth. The music has long faded into silence, leaving only the quiet rhythm of our breathing. The air between us is still charged, thick with something neither of us is ready to name.
Nichole rests her head against my chest, tracing idle patterns along my skin with her fingertips. It’s soothing, grounding. But my mind is already drifting somewhere else, somewhere I don’t want it to go.
Alessandra is safe. The war, at least for now, is over.
But Nichole? She’s still just a dream. And for the first time since stepping into this world, that realization terrifies me.