Chapter 100 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 5

Chapter 100 BOTH SIDES OF TEMPTATION PART 5
The next night, I found myself slipping out of the house again, even though my aunt’s warnings rang in my head. I couldn’t stop myself. It was like something inside me was pulling me back to the woods, to that stream where I had seen him.
The air was cooler than the night before, the grass wet under my slippers as I walked carefully, holding up my skirts so they wouldn’t catch on the bushes. My heart raced the whole way, both from fear and from hope. What if he was there again? What if I saw him bathe in the stream, his white hair dripping, his golden eyes glowing like fire? Just the thought made heat stir in my belly.
I reached the same spot and crouched low in the bush, pushing the leaves just enough to peek out at the stream. The moon was high, silver light covering the water in a soft glow. It was so quiet I could hear the crickets singing and the faint trickle of the stream.
I waited.
At first, every little sound made me think it was him. A branch snapping in the distance. The flap of wings from some night bird. The wind moving the leaves overhead. My body tensed with each noise, expecting to see him appear, broad shoulders and dark wings filling the night.
But it wasn’t him.
I stayed crouched there, my knees pressed into the dirt, my arms wrapped around myself for warmth. Time dragged on, slow and cruel. I counted the breaths I took, the minutes that felt like hours. My back began to ache, my legs grew stiff, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t leave. What if he came the moment I turned away?
But he didn’t.
The stream stayed empty.
The silence mocked me.
Finally, I let out a shaky breath, my throat tight with anger. I had risked sneaking out, risked being caught, only to sit here like a fool. My chest burned with frustration, but deeper than that was the ache I couldn’t escape—the ache of wanting him, of remembering every detail of him from the night before.
By the time I made it back home, my whole body felt restless, my skin hot, my thighs rubbing together with every step. I shut my bedroom door quietly and collapsed onto my bed, pressing my face into the pillow. My body wouldn’t calm down. My heart wouldn’t slow.
I tossed and turned, hugging the blanket tight, but it didn’t help. His image was already there behind my closed eyes—his golden eyes watching me, his hand stroking that thick length slowly, his lips parted in a gasp. The way his muscles flexed, the way the water clung to his skin, the way his release spilled into the stream—it all played in my mind like a memory I could never erase.
And then the shame whispered again. It’s wrong. Stop thinking about him. Stop wanting this.
But the hunger was stronger.
I slipped my hand under the blanket, down the front of my nightgown. My breath hitched as my fingers brushed against my clit, already swollen and throbbing with need. A gasp escaped my lips, and I quickly bit down on the edge of the blanket, smothering the sound. My body trembled as I rubbed small circles over the sensitive spot, the pleasure sparking instantly through me.
I spread my thighs wider, letting the blanket fall between them, and slid my hand lower. My fingers were already wet. The slick heat of my slit clung to them as I pushed one finger inside. I gasped again, muffling it with my pillow, my back arching slightly from the sudden rush of pleasure.
In my mind, it wasn’t my finger. It was him.
I imagined him standing over me, those glowing golden eyes locked on mine as he pushed into me for the first time. I imagined how wide he would stretch me, how my body would struggle to take all of him, how he would fill me so completely I wouldn’t be able to breathe. My hips jerked against my hand at the thought, and I pushed my finger deeper, curling it slightly, desperate for more.
I added a second finger, and my wetness coated them instantly. My walls clenched around the intrusion, tight and needy, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted him. I wanted that long, thick cock stretching me, pounding into me the way I had seen him stroke himself in the water.
My thumb rubbed over my clit in frantic circles, messy and desperate, while my fingers thrust inside me. My breath came out in sharp gasps, my chest rising and falling quickly. I buried my face into the pillow, moaning softly, biting down hard to keep myself quiet.
The image of him grew sharper—his strong hands gripping my thighs, his body pressing down on me, his hair falling over my face as he thrust deep inside. I could almost hear him, the heavy sound of his breathing, the low groan of his pleasure as he claimed me.
The pressure in my belly grew tighter and tighter, coiling like a spring about to snap. My toes curled, my legs shook, and I rubbed my clit faster, harder, chasing the peak that was so close I could taste it.
“Oh—ohhh,” I whimpered into the pillow, my whole body shuddering as the climax hit.
The release tore through me in hot, violent waves. My walls clenched hard around my fingers, squeezing them tight, my thighs shaking uncontrollably. My hips bucked up off the bed as the pleasure rolled through me, again and again, until I was left gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat, my heart pounding like a drum.
I collapsed back onto the bed, limp and weak, my fingers still sticky between my legs. My chest rose and fell quickly, my skin burning with heat, my eyes glazed with exhaustion and shame.
But even then, lying there in the dark, I couldn’t escape the thought of him.
The fae.
The golden-eyed stranger.
The one who had already ruined me with just one night’s glimpse.
And as I drifted into sleep, one thought clung to me like a curse.
I would go back again.