58. Waterfalls and Wildflowers

58. God Help Me!
DAY THREE

My lashes brush on her soft cheek as I stare at her lips. Pink like petals of lotus, slightly parted and untouched. 

‘I want you to touch me, like I am yours.’

Her words echo in the emptiness of my mind. She said it so softly, so carelessly. 

“I want to..” I whisper against her lips, before my eyes shut on their own. 

Our lips press with a gentle pressure. Slow and tender, as if it might erase the pain. Hers. Mine.

My eyes open and drop to her sleeping form, peaceful now yet vulnerable. She is glowing under the faint light like something holy I never deserved.

“A Goddess.” That’s what she is.

The kind who is worshipped in the absolute silence of darkness. The kind who rules quietly.

The kind you kneel and kiss her feet.

I silently breathe in her beauty, afraid I might disturb her. There is something devastating about seeing her without her fire. 

Just this soft, peaceful, vulnerable version of her that the night gets to keep.

I am jealous.

She doesn’t even know she is beautiful, like the Moon at midnight. 

It feels like the dark sky itself has come down just to observe the sleeping beauty.

Her skin radiates a faint heat under my flesh, sparking a cruel fire in me. Not just lust, something deeper. Desperate and dark.

‘Paint me in your colour.’

Her voice resonates in my ears, and I let my hand slide on the soft curves of her arms. 

‘Taint me black. Just like you.’ 

Emara begged me to touch her, kiss her, while I stood there like a statue. Because I knew touching her would crumble the walls I had spent years building.

But now, I want to touch her. 

My hand curves around her slender waist, and I pull her closer to me.

I want to hold her, run my fingers down her back. 

I lower my face into the crook of her neck and inhale her scent. A smile curve my lips as she smells like me, and I love it.

I want to kiss her every scar I caused. 

My lips brush her collar bones and I feel the slightest shiver ripple through her body. I instantly look up.

Emara is sleeping like a baby tired of running all day in my head. I chuckle. 

She is looking so cute, so fragile. Peacefully lying in my arms, on my mattress. Something I could have never imagined.

Imagi..nation.

What if this is all just another hallucination?

I watch her sleep for so long that the room starts to feel unreal. My eyes stare at the soft rise and fall of her chest, so mesmerising. 

Too perfect.

It almost feels like a dream. 

My mind begins to itch with doubt, and I lean closer to the girl who holds the gravity of my entire universe without even trying.

“If you are not real..” I whisper and without thinking, I sink my teeth into her skin where her neck meets her shoulder.

I bite, not hard, just enough to feel the warmth of her flesh, and she moves.

Emara stirs, a soft sound slips from her throat, and every drop of blood in my veins turns to ice as I hear her moan,

“Dakota..”

Every muscle locks in me. My breath catches halfway in my chest as I stare down at my sleeping beauty mumbling my name. 

“Emara..” I call her gently, her eyes barely open like an unfinished painting.

Is she still drunk?

“Are you awake?” I ask, and she hums softly, before shifting in my arms.

“I.. I am sorry, baby.” The words spill out before I can stop them, “I am so sorry for.. Listening to the wrong voices.. For not listening to you when you begged me..”

‘I want you to make love to me tonight.’

Those words right there can steal any man’s heart. Even a heartless man like me.

“How could you say it in just one breath.. So casually.” I whisper, while it has been going round and round in my head like a tornado.

I could never forget what she said. It has touched something deep inside of me, something buried, so cold, and it is shimmering in dark now.

I lean closer to my precious place, in the crook of her neck and confess, “I want to make love to you, Emara.”

My heart hits the accelerator. There is no stopping now, no going back over what I desire the most.

To make her feel wanted. Safe. Loved.

My hand tightens slightly at her waist, grounding myself because the way she tilts her head, offering herself without a word.. It unfolds me.

She smells like home, her skin feels impossibly soft beneath my lips and the contact sends a quiet ache through my chest.

How does someone like her exist? So pure it hurts. So beautiful it humbles me.

Emara always felt way out of my league, even now. Like I should be kneeling in front of her instead of holding her this close.

I kiss her neck again, passionately this time as if asking for forgiveness. She gasps softly, her hard nipples brush against my skin, sending sparks of goosebumps along my flesh.

Her perky breasts press into my chest, and the contact sends a rush of heat through me, making me lose whatever control I have left.

My tongue dips into the shadow cave of her collarbone, and slowly glides up to the mid lake of her neck, leaving small feathery kisses along the way to the valley of her breasts.

“Uhhh.” A deep hum leaves her throat as I sink my teeth into the soft flesh of her cleavage. So damn soft!

I lick the bite with my tongue as a soothing balm. But God help me! I miss the sound she made, so I sink my fangs again into her.

“Ahhh!” Emara stirs in my arms, her chest heaves even higher up to my open mouth. And I couldn’t help but taste and bite her more, leaving soft kisses afterwards.

My lips trace the gentle curve of her voluptuous breast, and I lower myself slowly as if gravity itself is pulling me down to the curvature of her elegant waist where my tongue keeps on slipping.

Emara is far beyond my realm. Touching her feels like I have been allowed into a temple I don’t belong in.

Her belly moves in hypnotic waves as she takes deep breaths. A godly deity wearing human skin, breathing softly, existing so purely it hurts my pride to witness. 

It appears as if she was sculpted by the very hands that made the waterfalls and wildflowers. And her pious beauty makes me feel like a mere low-life human, where she is like a Goddess of a heavenly garden.

I should be down kissing her feet, not the center of fertility.

But I can’t control myself from feeling her and kiss her slender navel like a devoted lover.

I rest my forehead against her lower abdomen, and my lips linger above the tender slope of her feminity.

My heart thuds against my ribs, and I wet my lips in a desperate attempt of control. Something I really don’t have.

I close my eyes, and I place a gentle kiss where desire begins to whisper.