With heavy eye lids, she practically collapses onto her bed, hands searching in the dark for the comforter. It's a mission to accomplish but after some time she finally finds a comfortable position; yet there is something missing. She reaches a hand out to the empty space on her left side, patting the area. 'No one there.' A sad realization the girl tries to shake off. There is rarely anyone that takes that vacant spot anymore. She sighs before turning to her side, facing the bland colored wall.
She didn't expect to feel so lonely- to be so empty. There are usually other things she distracts her mind with. Hobbies, friends, the future. And still, her mind is stuck on one thing. On him. She grinds her teeth, a habit that comes about when she is overwhelmed or angry. It would never matter if she was exhausted to no end, her mind always drifted to her desires.
And desire she did. Every night, for as long as the young girl can remember she was bound by lustful fantasies. She whispers a curse, touching the dampness between her thighs. It aches there, like a fiery burn she wants to so desperately put out. But it's not enough for her; there was no replacing the real thing. Stubborn like a mule, the girl stops her pleasure with a groan. It would be simpler if she had help- if she had him. Scolding herself, she wills her eyes shut to imagine the scene.
Large, calloused hands snake under the silk nightgown, roaming the planes of her legs and tummy. Normally, she would cease this assault; she didn't even get a kiss to begin with. But, her body betrays her, shivering underneath the pads of his fingertips. He smirks at the way she arches into him, pleading without words for more. However, he just began and is far from ready to give in. This is a game- one he is determined to win.
The goal is to hear her beg; to let go of that pride she holds dear and become vulnerable. Because he tires of her mask; the whole facade that she is as cold as stone-impenetrable. She leads a trail of broken hearts but he has no intentions of adding on to that collection. So he bends down to kiss the space between her breasts, noticing the hitch in her breathing.
Her gown hikes up just above her collarbone, sitting up for a moment to remove the clothing completely. It is then that a breeze rolls through the open window and she almost covers her chest until her assailant grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. "No, let me see." He leaves no room for options since this is his command; this is his web and she is caught stuck.
There is something hypnotizing in his expression, she notices. Those bright colored eyes fixate on her half-naked self, settling at her perky buds. She blushes furiously and thanks God that it is too dark for him to catch her embarassment. 'He'd never let me live it down.' It all comes down to the matter of the girl's pride; fully aware that she is risking exactly that.
"Eyes up here." She warns but her voice lacks conviction. Dwelling on her insecurities, she starts to wonder if she is even 'worth' his longing stare. Surely, she could never amount to his past flings. Those women with toned bodies and big chests are more suitable to his liking. Being lost in thought, she is surprised by where he kisses her next. The wet pecks on both her mounds make the girl jump.
"Oh," She whimpers.
Finally, he releases his hold on her wrists, lavishing the small peaks in a frenzy. He sucks on one while kneading the other, pinching the hardened nipple. And though she is enjoying every bit of attention, she finds it unfair to be the only one on the receiving end. She motions to remove his sweatpants and lets out a satisfied giggle when she grasps him. Now, it is his turn to moan. She revels at his tightly shut eyes and pumps painstakingly slow, using the beaded liquid on his tip as lubricant.
"Shit." He whines, bringing his hands up to her face and forcing her lips to crash against his. This kiss is anything but sweet. It is bruising and angry, almost territorial. He is branding her mouth with his own, claiming what is his. 'Mine.' The words repeat in his head like a litany. And he proves this by attacking her neck, sucking on the skin. She throws her head back, sitting up by an elbow all while continuing to please him. The trail of kisses end at the waistband of her underwear and the two waste no time in yanking them off together.
She laughs at how discheveled he looks with dilated eyes and swollen lips, though she probably looks the same. The silly mood is interrupted as a finger is plunged through her wet, slick core. Her arms give way and she falls on the pillows, back arching off the springy mattress. The look they share is feral and she snarls when another finger is added.
"Oh God." These are the only coherent words she can muster. Her hands spread out to find purchase in the cotton blankets and she clings as the tightness in her belly coils. Chancing a glance, she sees the smirk that becomes her undoing. But before she lets go, his fingers pull out. 'Tease.' She would rip his head out if it isn't for the fact that she yearns for his touch.
"What do you want, love?" It's a simple question. She wants him, always wants him. Every godforsaken moment of the day she reels over the image of him showering her body with such fierce intensity. Yet, even with her attraction she wants more than a euphoric trip. It is a heavily loaded question. 'I want to be yours.' But, will she ever say this out loud? Of course not. It isn't a part of her nature to be so willing. She's panting and shaking her head, signalling her refusal to give him what he wants. But then, his lovely hands force her head still with an iron grip. She shivers under the intensity of his stare.
"Tell me." He orders, dropping a hand to rub the small bundle of nerves at her center while the other caresses her chest. She cries out and mutters a curse word. He isn't playing fair- so much for being a 'very patient' man. Then again, she is the one who provokes him during the day. A brush of his knee at the dinner table, an inviting gaze when she sucks the dessert off her fingers. Is this revenge? She decides that she deserves this.
"I-I need you. Please? I want to feel you." She grasps him once more and guides him to her slick folds. "Please." Her voice barely above a whisper. The corners of her lover's lips curl up but she is too needy to fret about that. Nor does she have the time to because in one swift motion, she's pushed on her back and plunged into. There's a great discomfort in the beginning with her trying to adjust to his size. He throws her legs over each shoulder, the angle causing a series of gasps and whimpers to escape her. It's impossible to think straight; it's impossible to do much entirely except moan. Each thrust moves the bed along with their bodies-but that goes unoticed.
It's an animalistic act rather than a romantic tryst. She claws his chest down to his navel, feeling him shudder against her; and that earns a harder pounding. She can almost laugh at his roughness. So much passion, so much fervor. It is a miracle she doesn't keel over from it. Instead, the girl lifts her hips to move with his. When she catches his rhythm and the two are synchronized, her eyes roll back. "Fuck," The expletive is the last thing she yells out before she's seeing stars. The pleasure building up so high, she is unable to say anything. Her lips part and form the letter 'O'. He smiles at the sight, bending down to kiss her with equal ferocity.
"Let go for me." He whispers, nipping at her earlobe. On command, she falls apart; and it is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. The blush to her cheeks, her sweaty body shivering not from the cold but their lovemaking. After a few thrusts, he reaches his climax too, pulling out to spill on her stomach. She whines at the emptiness, missing the full sensation she had when they were joined.
The haze she's in clears out after coming down from her high. She looks to her wet fingers and rather than feeling content, she's miserable. Is this what she is to be stuck with for the rest of her days? An intense daydream and sticky hands? Her mind lingers on a passing idea. Suddenly, her feet are touching the floor, leading her out the room and into his. She knocks as a warning and barges in. What time is it? She guesses it must be midnight when she sees her snoozing counterpart. Avoiding the random paraphrenalia decorating his floor, she tiptoes diligently to his bedside.
She's careful in crawling to his side and manages to slip underneath the covers. His face is inches from her, their breaths mingling. It's her last chance to run away and forget this stupid impulse- but she moves closer. Their lips are brushing by the time she finds the courage to speak up. "Brother, wake up."