She moves, her sheet sliding down her abdomen, her tits in full view through the flimsy material of her gown. Full and a size too big for her small frame, they are enough to lead a saint to sin. Certainly enough for me to fantasize about them.
At once, a wave of lust hits me as my eyes zero in on her erect nipples, the pink of her areola such a delectable shade, made for licking, sucking and biting.
A silent groan escapes me as I feel all the blood rush to my cock at the thought of her tits in my mouth, and my tongue on her flesh as I bring her to the edge only to leave her unfulfilled—the only thing the little tease deserves.
I swallow hard, the taste of her on my tongue palpable. Sweet. She'd taste so sweet. Of that I have no doubt.
It doesn't matter that she's a facetious bitch.
At this moment, all that matters is how my mind perceives her. I'm like a drunk man as I let my eyes feast on her, drinking her in until my imagination can get to work and fill in the gaps.
Fuck.
It's madness. There's no other way to describe my addled brain. Because no one in their right mind would lust so hard after the person they're supposed to hate—that they hate.
But I can't stop myself.
I'm like a fucking slave to my baser instincts.
All my life I've seen men be led around by their cocks and I'd taken pride in being different—in leading a life of moderation.
But when I look at her, there's no moderation, just pure hedonistic abandon as I want nothing more than to sink into her warm depths.
Her sweet pussy calls to me, and as I close my eyes, her scent and taste threaten to drive me crazy.
Because I've tasted her.
I tasted her when she had no idea. Dipping my finger in her tight pussy and not getting a taste would have been blasphemy. In the cover of darkness, taking advantage of her unawareness, I'd put that finger in my mouth and I'd sucked it clean.
Even now the memory threatens to make me fall apart—both from the pleasure of it and the pain. I'd lost control of myself. I'd lost all traces of rationality as I'd given in to the animal within me.
The animal that wants to devour her.
The animal in me would have taken her.
And that's what shocks me the most.
I don't feel like myself anymore. She put a fucking spell on me that I can't seem to escape.
She's fidgety in her sleep, but the more she moves, the more she graces me with a full view of her exposed flesh.
I'm so fucking hard I'm almost bursting.
Ah, but the things I would do to her…
She turns on her side, her face towards me as her mouth opens on a low whimper.
My mind is immediately at work, conjuring images of her on her knees, those full lips of hers wrapped around my cock as she sucks me like the born seductress she is.
Fuck but she would obliterate me. Of that, I have no doubt.
Everything is short lived. As the euphoria wears off, I'm left with a bitter taste in my mouth and a strong sense of revulsion.
With a silent curse, I stand up, condemning myself for my weakness.
I shouldn't want her. I shouldn't want anyone. Not after Aurora.
Yet Y/n possesses something that no other woman I met before or after Aurora ever did.
The ability to shake me to my core.
Aurora had been my spiritual comfort, the other half of my soul, but there had always been a physical barrier between us.
With Y/n, there's none. She's flesh and blood. She's there for me to touch and feel.
For me to be tempted.
Maybe if my relationship with Aurora had been more or occurred in different circumstances, I wouldn't react so strongly to Y/n.
Maybe.