“So make me come so I can get back on the bicycle and maybe start fucking around. I always thought it would feel awful to kiss someone else, but for a moment there, before everything stopped, it felt good. I want to feel that way again, and maybe being with another man is what I need.”
“Or maybe you’ll feel even more guilty. Maybe you’ll feel like I did, the way I still do every time. Are you ready for that?” I can’t believe I’m pushing her not to have sex with me, but there is no way I can be the only guy putting her back on track. She’s the first woman I somewhat felt something for after kissing her. Even Naomi didn’t make me feel like I had wings when we were together. Fucking Tessa for her to move on to other men is not a possibility.
“Please,” she says, her tormented eyes looking at me with tears in them, “make me feel again.”
I’m a sucker for crying chicks.
I come closer and sit next to her.
The fingers of one hand instantly stroking her knuckles while the thumb of the other dries her cheeks.
Slowly, I bring my lips to her face and drink her in.
Little kisses that make me feel good and allow her to close her eyes. I kiss her cheek, her nose, her eyes, collecting every tear, one after the other. They are the most precious gifts she could give me. They are tears of letting go of her fiancé and getting lost in me. They are tears of emotional pain but also of mental freedom.
Every tear will bring her closer to the peace she needs to go on. It’s all I wish for her.
I hope she won’t stay a ghost in love with a past she can’t ever have, like me.
I want her to heal more than everything. The realization brings me to let a tear fall as well. I want her to be happier than I’ll ever be. I don’t know why but I need Tessa to be fine for both of us. As if she can read my mind, she backs away, looks at me, and smiles. Her hands dry the sign of my sadness. And without a word, she presses her lips against mine and kisses me some more. This time her kiss isn’t a sad apology for the tears she’s shedding.
It’s a full-on war declaration to my willpower.
Tessa wants to be fucked and has decided I’ll be the one to do the work. Her tongue swirls around mine, her breasts press against my chest, her hands come up my leg. She’s dangerously close to my cock, and I’m afraid I’ll blow fast. My hand reaches hers and stops her in her tracks before my dick overpowers my brain, and I fuck her to oblivion.
“Tessa,” I warn her, “I’m not who you want…”
“I know,” she says with sadness in her voice. “But I’m not who you want either. So maybe we could help each other.”
I shake my head. “I won’t fuck you, sweetheart. I can make out all night if you need, I can make you high on kisses, but I won’t have sex with you. Your walls are too far down, it will only hurt us.”
“What if I need to hurt to feel alive?”
Images of Tessa under me, hurting a little while I thrust between her legs, come directly to my mind. “Then I’m not the one who can hurt you,” I say kissing her slowly, trying to get my control back. But then she bites me and all I’ve been holding off comes surging into my brain, into my body, into my dick. Hard as a rock I push her against the bed and cover her. I lose track of what I should do and get lost in her. Kissing her more deeply, I let my fingers trace her breasts and finding their way under her shirt, while I thrust against her jeans. Her hands find the buckle of my belt and she hungrily opens my jeans and dives into my underwear. Her hand is cold compared to the burning desire powering my cock. I grunt and nibble at her lips.
“Careful, Blue-hair, I wouldn’t want to make a mess before show time.” I reach one of her nipples and flick it a few times while my mouth finds the crook of her neck. She tastes like a fucking paradise I never want to leave. But whatever happens tonight between us, I’m going back to New York.
Her hand squeezes me, stopping the thoughts cluttering my mind and bringing me back to what we’re doing. I remove her hand off my dick and slowly lift her shirt only to discover the flawlessness of her body: breasts I can take in my mouth, skin I can caress with the pad of my fingers, navel I can fill with my sperm. I don’t need much to find perfection. I remove my glasses and dive in cherishing every inch of her chest with my tongue.
“Oliver,” she moans, her hands grabbing the back of my neck. Hearing my name on her lips makes me fall deeper into her spell. “Fuck, yes,” she continues, and I go lower, nibbling at her flank, her ribs, her hipbone while my hands take care of removing her pants. I straddle her and sit on my heels to have a better look at her. And there she is, in matching bra and panties, her eyes hooded, her mouth slightly open, ready for me.
“Come,” she whispers, beckoning me with her finger. But first I want to get naked for her. Taking off my shirt, I hear her moan when my chest comes into view.
“Do you like what you see?” I smugly ask.
“Nah… You should work out more.” She winks at me and makes me laugh. I might not be in the navy anymore, but I work out daily to maintain the muscles
