“Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He’s always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, but anymore than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.” — Catherine Earnshaw.
The mere contemplation of his cutthroat words had slashed the last reasoning I had to prove my claim was true. He was hovering over me, pools of molten silver boring into my eyes, refusing to utter any further word. We laid like that, he on top of me, body pressed on mine, not allowing me the chance to get up, fight or retreat. The dim florescent lights fixed on the ceiling were throwing navy blue shadows against the contours of his face; cutting them at sharp angles.
Time stilled for god knows how long, and all I could feel was the erratic heaving of his chest, the controlled breaths fanning my face. The naked intensity of his gaze dropped to my lips, as my eyes mentally trailed the soft curve of his mouth. The night heat sizzled between us, the confined space which was both disgusting and hot. Strands of his neatly styled auburn hair had fallen on top of his forehead, adoring the perfect shape of his face. The grey orbs scanned me, for some reaction, an expression
Without my prior permission or intention, my hand reached his nape, trailing upwards to grip some of his hair, tugging his face backwards, giving me the opportunity to bite on his lower lip. Seemingly encouraged by the move, he forcibly shoved his tongue into my mouth, groaning against my lips at the same time. Goosebumps broke through my skin, obviously due to being in a precarious position as this. Without dwelling on my much needed logical thoughts, I urgently licked his lips, eventually deepening the kiss.
He kissed me back with the same amount of burning fervor, passion and aggression brimming at the rim of all the bottled lust, the attraction. Yeah, maybe this phase would fade away after one night of hot sex. It was nothing except physical attraction anyways. My nerves were going haywire as my tongue eagerly wrapped around his, hands tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling the fabric off him. Breaking away from the makeout session, his intent gaze landed on me saying something I couldn’t quite put my finger at.
The florescent lights were gobbling up his physique — lean and chiseled to perfection. My stomach was in knots, thoughts muddling my brain, and my eye sight in a haze. His strong arms wrapped around my torso, peeling off my t-shirt before hauling it somewhere about the room. Within seconds, he had me pinned on the bed again, his teeth grazing my jawline, which ran shivers down my spine.
I was too consumed in the ecstasy, in the lust to even pay attention to the fact that this thing wouldn’t end well. As I so wisely said previously, enemies with benefits wasn’t or shouldn’t be a thing. Bringing his face close to mine, he positioned himself between my legs, silver orbs burning me with their scalding gaze which dropped down to my mouth, then to my exposed chest, then further below. I could feel that he was disgusted and aroused at the same time because, so was I.
Crashing his lips against mine, my fumbling hands reached for the hem of his jeans, unbuttoning it while my tongue explored every inch of his mouth. He moaned against me, his hands pulling down his pants within a jiffy. His erection was perfectly traceable against his black boxers, as I scanned him with my hooded eyes, the dim light throwing away harsh shadows across his perfect body. I didn’t know whether he took off my trousers or did I myself do it, because I wasn’t paying enough attention.
All I could see was him, the gorgeous person infront of me, his knees digging in the mattress while he adjusted his position between my thighs once again. My fingertips ached to touch him, and when he took off his boxers, I was left in awe. Dude was potentially Adonis. His fly was hard in want, in desire. Taking himself in his own hand, he crept towards me cocking his head to the side, studying me from head to toe.
“What the fuck you doing?” I growled at the rough teasing which had driven me off the edge because of him circling the head of his fly around my asshole, which ached for him to push himself in already. I saw a devious smirk taint his features, as he crouches down and whispers, “Say it. Say it that you want me to fuck you.” Words, mere words. But those few words still managed to make me squirm and quiver with desire; the fact that I wanted him so badly was pathetic.
“Fuck me, please.”