“Just this?” I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers and enjoying the way she stiffens against me, sucking in a breath. I can’t wait to learn all the ways that she reacts when I arouse her, finding new reactions each time, new things to do to her. I’d told myself for so long that I would have to be satisfied with the memories of what we’d had, just those few nights, making them last for the rest of my life. The thought that we might have months, years even, to make as memories as we please, feels like an enormous luxury.
I’ve been a man with wealth at my fingertips all my life. All I’d ever had to do was reach out and take it. But nothing has ever made me feel as rich as having Sasha in my arms, knowing that she’s mine, and I’m hers.
That we have forever–or at least as long as we manage to survive this.
I intend for that to be as long as possible.
Sasha steps back, breaking the kiss and taking my hand as she leads me towards the bed. “I can think of alotof things I want to do with the rest of the night that aren’t sleeping,” she murmurs suggestively. I feel my cock twitch just from that, despite the mind-numbing orgasm that I had minutes ago. “If you’re up for it–”
“I’ll be up for it.” I stride forward, catching her around the waist and lifting her up as she lets out a surprised squeak, laying her back on the bed. “I’m already half up for it, if you know what I mean.”
I smirk suggestively at her, reaching for the buttons of my shirt. “But first, I want to see you bare for me.”
My cock stiffens, lurching at the thought with a bolt of lust that shoots straight down my spine. I’ve thought about Sasha naked more times than I’m willing to admit, and now, I want to see her without shame. Tonight, for the first time, I have no reservations about what we’re doing, no hesitation about being with her. I’ve made that mistake too many times already.
I very nearly threw away the best thing I’d ever been offered with both hands, and I won’t make that mistake again.
“Like this?” Sasha reaches for the tie at the waist of her dress suggestively. “There’s nothing underneath this, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” I can hear the heat in my voice as my fingers go still on the buttons of my shirt. The memory of sliding my hand inside her dress, feeling her bare breast with nothing beneath the dress, will stay with me for a long time. I can still feel the ball of her wet panties in my pocket. Though I can’t imagine I’ll need to masturbate for a long time, the idea of wrapping them around my cock and stroking myself with the fabric drenched in Sasha’s arousal makes me rock-hard in an instant, throbbing and desperate to be freed again.
Slowly, she slides the material apart. I catch a glimpse of pale skin, a sliver of breast and belly and thigh, and then she shrugs, letting it fall apart as she tugs it away from herself. She’s entirely, gloriously naked under it, her perfect body on display for me. As she looks up at me with those huge blue eyes, I’m as painfully aroused as if I hadn’t come in months.
“Now let me see you,” she whispers, reaching for me, and I let her start to undo my belt as I finish unbuttoning my shirt.
Thisfeelslike a fresh start, a new beginning. In here especially, in the quiet privacy of the house with the night heavy around us, I feel cocooned here with Sasha, protected at last. It feels as if there’s nothing here but her and me, as if there never will be again, and I’m content to rest in that feeling for now.
Her hand wraps around my cock as I step out of the last of my clothing, stroking as she pulls me closer, and I groan as her fingers slide over my swollen cockhead. “We can play more later,” she whispers, her thighs clenching together as she moves over to make room for me on the bed. “Right now, I just want you inside of me again.”
I lean towards her, moving onto the bed so that I’m lying next to her. Slowly, I turn her so that her back is facing me, pulling her into the curve of my body as my cock nestles between her thighs, my lips brushing against the back of her neck. “I can’t argue with that,” I murmur softly, my hand sliding down her thigh to hook her leg over mine as my cock nestles against the wet heat of her entrance.
This time, there’s no need to muffle the pleasured cry that she makes as I push into her, groaning against her shoulder at the way she tightens around me, pushing back against me as she wordlessly begs me for more.
The decision I made all those years ago to stay celibate from the start hadn’t been about only being with one woman–it had been about the fact that I’d thought I would never be withanyoneand hadn’t wanted to torture myself with a taste of a pleasure I’d have to give up. But now, at this moment, I’m glad that it’s only ever been her, that it only will ever be her.
I want to possess her entirely, to claim her thoroughly as mine–and I can be that for her, too. I will only ever be hers, and there’s no regret in that, because there could never be any other woman that could compare.
All I’ve ever wanted was Sasha, and she’s all I’ll ever want from now on.
For the first time in a long time, sleep comes quickly and deeply afterward, with Sasha nestled naked in my arms. The window is half-open, a pleasant breeze coming through, and it’s easy to forget that there’s any danger remaining out there–at least while I’m still awake.
Once asleep, it’s a different matter.
In my dreams, I’m standing in a rainy alleyway again, the cold metal of a gun clenched in my fist for the first time with intent. The stones are gleaming wetly with rain and neon, and I hear my voice, calling out a name as a man flees from me.
I feel my finger squeeze down on the trigger and see the shot go wide. I hear his scream of pain as the bullet wings him, sending him sprawling on the stones, rolling onto his back as his blood starts to drip down, and he scrambles backward.
The alleyway had undoubtedly stank of garbage and piss and old grease, but all I can ever remember is the scent of gunpowder and blood and the stench of fear. I’d smelled it coming off of him like a rank wind, seen the terror in his face, and I’d hated him all the more for it.
He’d had the courage to murder my brother, but not enough to face the consequences of it. I’d wanted to kill him slowly, an urge that I hadn’t had time in the moment to examine, but had so many times afterward. I’d turned that urge over in my hands again and again like a well-worn stone, comparing it later to how I’d felt about Alexei, later still to how I’d felt about Art and Edo after discovering their treachery and plans for Sasha. I’d discovered a deep well of violence inside of myself that I’d only just begun to tap that night, but it had been the beginning.
I dream of him begging, of how I’d stalked towards him, my intent to kill him only growing with every plea.
Die like a fucking man,I’d snarled at him, pointing the gun at his forehead.Not a sniveling brat.
You mean like your brother died?
He’d found the courage to throw out one final insult, and I would have peeled his skin from his bones if I’d had the time for it. Instead, I’d shot him dead, and after I’d thrown his body in the dumpster where it belonged, I’d looked at the blood on my hands and wondered if I should feel more regret.