What does he want? Surrender? I will gladly give it to him, as I have no dignity left. “Make me come,” I say and exhale in relief when he glides his tongue inside me, swirling it deeper and deeper. I roll my hips forward, grinding on his tongue and almost come on it, but he pulls it back, licking my folds once again. “Please!” I add with frustration and anger, hating him for making me beg, yet still my legs are wrapped around him, clamping my thighs against his face, yet it doesn't change the trajectory of his movements.
He brings his hand to my core, rubbing me with his thumb up and down, up and down, driving me insane with each wet slide before he dips two fingers inside me, stretching me while his mouth sucks on my clit. The double sensation almost sends me flying. Sweat coats my skin, and my ears buzz from the overpowering pleasure that feels like it could destroy everything around me.
Only he whispers loud enough for me to hear, “Tell me, Phoenix. Who makes you feel so good right now?” I freeze, the air sticking in my lungs, but I groan when he drags his tongue through my flesh then slips it inside only to snatch his mouth away when my silence continues. “Who, Phoenix?”
“Please,” I say, closing my eyes and covering my face with my hands, keeping myself inside this bubble my subconscious has created of the hot fantasy every woman has in her head… and where I don't have to see him.
Truly see the man who brings me pleasure.
However, the devil is never kind, oh no.
He is ruthless and oblivious to anyone’s desires but his own.
“What’s my name, baby?”
I hate him for asking me, for he lifts his face from my flesh and stops all his actions, holding me on the brink of an orgasm, starved for the oblivion he refuses to give me until I play by his rules.
Cruel, cruel man.
But then, didn't I know that already when I decided to give in to this?
Our heavy breaths fill the space in the silence that follows his request—or order—and I snap my eyes open, gulping for breath before I let him shatter me once again, because I have no armor when it comes to him.
He stripped me of the last, fake sense of dignity. “Zachary. Your name is Zachary.” And with that, tears form in my eyes, falling down my cheeks, and I do nothing to wipe them away, but I don't have to.
Zach steps back, straightening up, takes out a condom from the back of his pants, and lowers the zipper on his jeans before tearing the foil packet open.
He easily wraps his hard-on in it. My eyes widen for a second at the thick, long, angry flesh leaking precum at the tip, and then his hands are back on my hips, pulling me closer until I wrap my legs around him and his erection digs against my core. He rubs it all over my center and leans forward, licking away the tears on my cheeks, one by one, then swallows a piercing moan tearing out of my mouth when he thrusts into me, shifting me on the counter a little and stretching me so much I wonder if I’ll survive it.
We groan, and I thread my fingers in his hair, angling my head back to deepen the kiss, our tongues brushing against each other, wiping away all the dark thoughts as he pushes back and rolls his hips forward again, driving inside me so hard I’m surprised I don't fall back.
Clamping my thighs tighter around him, I allow him to drink from my mouth. With each jerk of his hips, he encloses me in a hot cocoon of passion and pleasure that sinks into my every bone and poisons my blood; my body craves more and more of it, giving me the amplitude of emotions I didn't think was possible.
My lungs beg for some kind of oxygen, but I don't listen to them. Instead, I tug on his hair, opening my mouth wider as he enters me deeper and deeper with each thrust, my pussy clenching around him, my flesh burning from his wide length that should be forbidden for how much ecstasy it brings me.
He snatches his mouth away, trailing kisses down my neck, while I press against him, the hair on his chest tickling my pointed peaks, which only adds to the building blocks ready to collapse at any moment.
He speeds up his pace, sucking on my neck and no doubt leaving hickeys, while he pounds deeper and deeper.
Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.
My hands slide down his back, raking my nails over it, wanting to bring him pain, the same kind of agony mixed with pleasure he evokes in me while my pussy gets tighter and tighter around him, welcoming every drive of his hips until it all finally becomes too much. I arch my neck back, screaming when it finally hits me. A hot flash spreads all over my body, hammering me with pleasure over and over again, almost making me drown in it for how strong it is—it’s nothing like I’ve experienced before.
He thrusts a few more times and then groans into my ear, biting on my earlobe. He spills inside the condom and grips my ass cheeks so hard a moan slips past my lips.
He leans back, palming my head, and rubs his thumb over my cheeks, his green orbs roaming over my face as if he’s searching for some kind of sign. “Are you okay?”
With his gaze on me, his dick still inside me, and his voice penetrating through the fog of the all-consuming need that finally got soothed, the full scope of what I’ve just done registers in my mind.
And with that comes hate and self-loathing toward myself for allowing this.
Pushing at his shoulders, I say, “Get off me.” He doesn't move, and this time I almost scream, “Get of me, Zach!” He slowly steps back, and I wince when he slides his cock out, the light sting still present, and then I get down from the counter.
Adjusting my panties and the nightgown, I flee from the kitchen toward my room, ignoring him as he calls, “Phoenix.”
Dear God.
What have I done?
Chapter Thirteen
“Where is this invisible line between right and wrong?
And how can I cross it?”
Zachary
From Phoenix and Zach’s email history…
To: Zach
From: P
You didn’t reply on my last email (and it has been what… six months?). You either listened to my advice or ignored it.
Both are fine by me, by the way.
Anyhow, I was sitting in the library yesterday and studied some things for my history class. And one of the topics was to find significant dates in the history of society.
So while I did that, I thought about the fact that I’m turning eighteen in a month, and you will be twenty-one.
Isn’t that cool? We both share significant dates in the same year, it’s like we are connected or something (it might sound lame now, but the epiphany I had in the library, man, so many feels).
While I contemplated all this information, I realized that we are wasting a great opportunity for a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing.
You know all these movies and books where the hero and heroine decide to meet on a particular date? Yeah, you might call it romantic crap, but it’s not about romance in our case.
Although, I’m not dating anyone right now, and if I like you enough, who knows…? (Joking, you can relax. I’m not planning to dig my claws into you. Even though your egocentric ass probably thinks you are irresistible.).
But isn’t it cool? We fit the description. We met a long time ago and still kept in touch. So my proposition (even though it’s crazy, but hey, we live only once) is the following. How about we meet on January 15th at four o’clock at the Empire State Building viewing platform? (I know, I know, cheesy as hell… but if you have any other suggestions, I’m open to them.)