You're a rat, my inner conscience mumbles low in my head, referring to my cowardice behavior recently, her tone one of disappointment. My lips twist to form a sour frown when I find myself agreeing to the statement upon evaluating my actions.
You know that feeling when you struggle to acknowledge the blatant truth of your cowardly actions which you're well aware of, yet refuse to quit the bullshit. That is exactly what I feel now. Hiding in my bedroom since roughly over a day ago when I had been on Aïdon's lap, skin against skin.
It is wrong, oh so wrong to be even mildly attracted to a man like him, it's scary how quickly my body had reacted to his touch then. And every time the memory resurfaces – which is a lot by the way – I'm haunted with the thought of how well I seemed to fit in his arms like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle and how much I find myself craving more.
I'm embarrassed, I'm horny and I'm a mess.
However, if I wish to succeed in my mission of not having to face Aïdon anytime soon, then my first and foremost priority is filling my tank with gas (aka food) while he is fast asleep.
Creeping down the stairs in the dead of night, the beat of my heart thundering in my ears like a warning siren, footsteps light and calculated so the floorboards don't creak under the pressure of my weight. Darkness encroaches like vines climbing up and down a tree, eventually becoming unsatisfied with the limited territory and slowly branching out, it's unsettling and frightens me immensely. Hence my eternal gratitude for the small, light-emitting object tucked safely in my sweaty palm.
My eyes are squinted in concentration as my sock-clad feet hesitantly meet the cold hard floors, heatedly glaring at my faintly illuminated surroundings. Ears strained and attentive to the faintest of sounds my body jolts at when heard. Eventually, I find myself staring at clean cooking utensils and a refrigerator, and my anxiety eases slightly.
My fingers move instinctually to the light switch but pause in thought. Finally, I decide against it and wobble over to the fridge, I tuck the torch between my underarms and begin the task of rummaging for food.
A loaf of bread, some leftover pie, a bottle of orange juice. Humming an old Irish tune, I pop open a bag of chips and stuff my mouth full with it. I'm consumed with the task at hand that I fail to realize the extra presence in the room.
Suddenly light floods the room and a throat is cleared roughly, causing me to jump on my heels in shock. My lips part with the intention of letting out a scream, however, the sound gets stuck in my throat and I start coughing, lightly hitting my chest as I hurriedly crack open and gulp down a chill bottle of juice.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
I look like a deer caught in the headlights as I begin fumbling around with the soft loaf of bread and bag of half-eaten chips cradled in my arms.
Captivating dark eyes casually peruse over my frame, successfully igniting the fire I've worked tirelessly so hard to put out, they finally linger on the items in my arms which I tighten my hold on. Tousle-haired from his reckless sleeping, his muscular arms are folded across his exposed chest, biceps bulging. It's inappropriate to have these crazy thoughts but I want to feel those hands on me.
"Care to explain why you're creeping around in the middle of the night like some kind of rodent?"
Brows furrowing in exasperation and lips twisting, I grumble, "I'm not a rat!"
Who am I kidding?
With a sigh, I glance down at the items in my hand and then look back up at him. "Well uh, I got a bit hungry so I thought since your home is blessed with such a bountiful supply that I'd help myself to some."
His lips twitch, "I'd say feel free to but you already got a headstart on that." Is he teasing me?
He takes one step forward, crossing the threshold of the kitchen as he unfolds his arms and tucks them in the pockets of his loosely fitted pants, leaning back on his heels. There's a faux sense of tranquility to his actions, movements languid and countenance indecipherable. It is almost impossible to spot but the way his gaze heatedly brushes over my body from top to bottom, lingering on my curves visible through the thin silk nightdress is undeniable, not when my eyes are doing the same.
"So what have you been up to? You're pretty scarce these days," he asks, lifting his stare. I'm somewhat disappointed to find that look in his eyes missing.
Lie. My gaze flickers to the side momentarily – balling up my emotions and discarding them, extinguishing the fire within me to the best of my ability so it burns to a low sizzle... as does his. My palms grow clammy as I shuffle on my feet. "Well y'know, um, I've been very busy-"
"– hiding from me," he casually fills in.
I can't hide my surprise. Mouth falling ajar and eyes wide in incredulity, my stuttering grow to a still for a brief moment as I behold him; the smug expression he wears proudly as he stares me down.
“Not that I'm surprised in the slightest,” a mocking grin, “you strike me as the type whose number one option in every situation is to run.”
"I beg to differ."
A shrug, "evidence does not lie."
"Good thing you have none." Gotcha!
Aïdon tilts his head to the side and steps even closer, his scent – earthy with a balsamic base note – envelopes and drives me insane, an inciting catalyst which further fuels my veiled desires.
His grin widens when he notices my feet shuffle backward and I have to gather everything in me to keep from putting space between us. He's testing me, subtly attempting to prove his theory with this crazy game.
"I still struggle to understand why you run if I'm being honest, care to explain?"
"Correction; I don't run, and even if I did then the reason would be simple," I tell him, struggling to maintain eye contact whilst battling the urge to reach out to feel him beneath my skin, "I'm living to fight another day."
My victory is short lived.
"At the expense of an adventure of a lifetime," he tsks, shaking his head in mock disappointment at me. Why do I feel like he's talking about something else? "You're missing out on quite a lot, Miss, no wonder you're such a boring soul."
Glaring at him, I feel the loaf squish and chips crumble under the force of my tensed arms. I grit my teeth, "I'm not boring."
He raises both hands in surrender, eyebrows elevated and eyes dancing with mirth, "hey, it's fine to live a pretty uneventful life. I'm not judging."
The little shit is fucking amused by this.
But I don't respond.
A grunt. "Clean up when you're done with whatever this is," waving half-heartedly at the open fridge, he pivots on his heels. However, he doesn't get too far. I don't let him.
My mind races, heart thumping as I think of several things I could do right now to prove I'm not a wimp. It's silly but I've always been a bit hotheaded, acting first and thinking about the consequences later, look where that has gotten me in life. Over the years, I'd trained myself to calm; learned to take a step back and clear my head before making any rash decisions, and I must confess I've been getting better at it.
But at this moment, with the right amount of teasing and perfect embodiment, all that hard work goes down the drain.
'If he wants excitement, then that's what he's going to get,' I think as I ready myself.
"I'll prove it to you," I say, loud enough that it catches his attention and has his steps faltering. He stops, turns, and leans against the doorpost, tilting his head slightly to the side.
Fueled by a myriad of inexplicable emotions, I discard the items on the countertop and cross the distance between us to press a palm to his bare chest. He grunts at the force with which I push him against the wall.
There is no warning, no tentative brushing of lips over the other. Only the irrefutable look of stupefaction flashing over his features, eyes widening and the hitching of his breath before we lock lips.
However, he reacts just as fast.
My tender flesh against his for the first time, there's no explosion of fireworks as my lids flutter shut, neither is there a tingling sensation dancing on my fingertips from touching him as several books narrate.
Our kiss is anything but gentle.
Teeth clashing as I hold him hostage against the wall, a hand to his chest, although I may seem in total control of this moment, inside I'm an absolute wreck.
Aïdon wastes no time in attempting to dominate the kiss, he presses harder against me, sweeping his heated tongue over my mouth and nipping lightly on my bottom lip when I deny him entrance. He sucks on my bottom lip and expertly slips his tongue into my warm cavern, taking his sweet time to explore me.
An invisible alarm goes off in my head just when I begin to let myself get lost in the kiss, and I requite his actions by letting my fingers trail from where they lay idly on his chest to his neck, curling around and settling there in warning. I'm the one in control, I tell him.
It is when he smiles into our kiss that I know I've fucked up. I have presented to him a challenge... I've awoken the beast.
But then he pulls away. My eyes fly open in bewilderment at his actions and my swollen lips part in question. I come to a realization of his wicked intentions as I gaze into his eyes, requesting my permission. I'm going to ruin you, he says, and I let him.
Something in him snaps; he is rougher now in his administrations, clawing at my clothes, taking just as much as he is giving. His kisses are soft yet firm, intoxicating.
He grinds hard against me and my pussy throbs as I feel every hard inch of him pressing against my core through his pants, hand firmly set on my hips. I let out a muffled moan, eagerly tilting my hips to meet his thrusts.
I'm delirious when he pulls away, chest heaving as I pant. I'm certain my panties soaked through.
He taps the curve of my waist twice and mutters hoarsely, "up." I waste no time in obliging, jumping into his readied arms, and weaving my fingers through his hair. He blindly stumbles back until I feel my back come in contact with a cold surface. His right hand tightens his grip around my waist and with the other hand, he sweeps away the condiments and lets them clatter to the floor.
We pay them no heed as he sets me on the countertop, the chill seeping through the thin material of my nightwear. He presses more chaste kisses to my lips, my cheek and then trails his lips down my neck. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him more access to feast on me as I faintly moan out his name to the heavens.
His fingers ghost over my thighs, his touch causing me to tremble underneath him. Suddenly, both my legs are pulled apart, eliciting a sharp gasp from my lips as he steps between them. I hear the low rumble of approval in his chest when his fingers delve between my thighs and brush against the wet material.
My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as I push my hips to him, chasing my release. "Fuck," he rubs me harder through my underwear, "I need to taste you." His voice is deeper, actions driven solely by lust.
Pecking me once more, he withdraws and I find myself chasing after him with a low needy whimper. Farewell self-control.
With his strong arms, Aïdon tugs me forward so I'm seated at the very edge of the counter, settling between my thighs and brushing his lips against every inch of my alabaster skin he can. My mind's a haze, face warm as he orders me to lift my hips and he slides my underwear down my legs.
My impatience is evident when I grab his thick locks and try to bring his face closer to my core, however, Aïdon pries my greedy fingers off by sending two quick successive slaps to my pussy. A loud cry rips past my vocal cords and my hips jerk away from him. He grabs and holds me in place with one hand, and with the other, he soothes the pain by rubbing gently on my engorged flesh.
"Patience flower," he taunts, as he hungrily eyes my bare pussy. I whimper in response.
Using his fingers to spread my lips open in a wide 'v' and thereby exposing my clit to his relentless mouth, he buries his face between my legs and I can't help but breathily moan his name out loud as his hot tongue languidly slides inside me.
"Look how wet you are," as if to prove his point, he eases a digit into me and it emerges coated with my juices. My cheeks warm as I watch him suck the finger into his mouth, and my pussy throbs harder. I'm caught in a trance, incapable of prying my eyes away as he licks from my entrance to my clit. The sight is erotic and turns me on more than it should.
His mouth returns to his task. And this time, he is set on devouring me. Jaw widening and cheeks hollowing as he sucks my sensitive bud, the room is filled with a cacophony of slurping sounds accompanied by a sensual mix of our pleasured groans and moans.
"Please," I beg, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.
He ignores me.
The intensity of it all is too much, I can only grip his hair tightly, tugging when he hits the right spot that makes me lose my mind. He doesn't stop, not even when my head falls back and I cry out in tears, begging him, he continues to deliver his onslaught; alternating between thrusting his tongue deep inside my heat and sucking on my labia.
This is my punishment.
But it's exactly what I want. To be ravaged under the moonlight, to be left breathless and immobile. And he doesn't disappoint in his ministrations, drawing plea after plea, cry after cry, bringing me closer to my peak.
He grunts, sending vibrations through me. "Cum for me."
I rid his face, rolling my hips into his awaiting mouth, one hand in his hair and the other over my mouth in an attempt to lessen the sound of my cries.
My release washes over me like a fierce tidal wave, inescapable as my quivering body arches into his mouth, his name tumbles from my lips like a sacred prayer.
Aïdon laps up my juices like it's his first meal, a crazed look in his eyes as he watches me come apart. My breaths escape in heavy pants, teary-eyed and lips bruised and swollen. It feels like I'm floating on cloud nine.
After all this, it's obvious who is in control. And it's definitely not me.
idk how I feel about this chapter. pls leave a review of your thoughts so far!
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