Our lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss at first, but then it quickly deepened. His hands tightened around me, drawing me closer. Every touch, every breath, felt like a release of everything we'd kept locked inside—pain, desire, regret.
In that moment, the world faded away, leaving just us. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to feel the butterflies.
His lips grazed my neck, each kiss sending a shudder through my body. His breath was hot, teasing, and the way his mouth moved made my knees feel weak. I pushed closer to him, the desire building deep inside, a craving for more, a need that grew unbearable with every passing second.
His hand trailed down the curve of my spine, his touch rough, deliberate. He yanked me against his chest, the hard planes of his body pressed into mine. I moaned, unable to hold it back, as his fingers danced along my back before slipping beneath the hem of my dress. My pulse quickened, anticipation twisting tighter, my skin tingling where his hands explored.
A gasp escaped me when his fingers grazed my thighs, sliding up slowly, almost painfully so. The tease was maddening. I could feel the slick heat building between my legs, soaking my underwear. I needed more, craved it—his fingers, his mouth, his everything.
He toyed with the waistband of my panties, his touch featherlight, making me squirm in frustration. "God, you're soaked already," he growled low in my ear. His breath was hot, his voice thick with hunger, and it made my body throb with need.
When his fingers finally tugged at the zipper of my dress, it slid off easily, pooling at my waist. I was bare before him, my skin prickling under his gaze as his eyes darkened with a mix of lust and hunger.
"No bra?" His voice was mocking, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. "Is this for me? Were you expecting this, you little slut?"
The words ignited something in me, a flash of heat that only made me want him more. His lips descended to my breast, wrapping around my nipple, his tongue flicking, teasing, making me gasp for breath. It was too much, yet not enough. I needed more.
"Bite me," I whispered, my voice trembling with need, and he obeyed—his teeth sinking into my skin, sending me crashing to my knees.
We tumbled to the ground, our bodies tangled, my hips grinding into him desperately. The friction was delicious, every movement sending shocks of pleasure through my body. His low moan matched mine, the sound primal, raw.
"Fuck, Freya, you're going to drive me insane," he growled against my neck, his voice a deep, rough whisper that sent shivers down my spine. I pressed myself harder into him, rolling my hips, chasing that sweet release that felt so close, yet just out of reach.
His hand slid between us, fingers grazing the damp fabric of my panties. I gasped, my body jerking in response, a wave of pleasure washing over me. He teased me, his fingers brushing, circling over the sensitive spot, sending jolts of pleasure through me but never giving me what I truly needed.
I whimpered, my breath coming in sharp bursts as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, his touch sending my body into overdrive. His fingers found my entrance, sliding in easily, the slick heat between my legs making it effortless.
A broken moan escaped me as he started to move, slow at first, each thrust deliberate, teasing. I writhed beneath him, my hips grinding against his hand, the pressure building to an unbearable level. His fingers moved faster, deeper, hitting that perfect spot that had me gasping, my body trembling.
I couldn't think straight, every nerve in my body alight with pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, his fingers working me expertly, driving me closer to the edge. I was so close, the pressure coiling tight inside me, ready to snap.
Our kisses became frantic, all tongue and teeth, like we couldn't get enough of each other. His fingers were relentless, pushing me higher, closer to release. I could feel it—so close, almost there—when suddenly, he stopped.
His fingers stilled inside me, and I almost sobbed from the loss.
"Tell me to stop," he rasped, his voice thick with desire, yet there was something else—restraint.
I was trembling, so close to falling apart, and he was asking me to stop? My body was on fire, the need for release so intense it bordered on pain. I clenched my fists into his shirt, pulling him down toward me, frustration making my voice sharp.
"Are you seriously asking me that right now?" I ground out, anger and need blending together. "You don't get to bring me this close and then stop."
I yanked him down, crashing my lips against his, desperate and angry, needing to feel him, to lose myself in him. I pushed him onto his back, straddling him, grinding against him shamelessly, seeking the friction I was denied. The pressure between my legs was unbearable, and I rode him, chasing that relief, wanting to finish what he started.
"You're not leaving me like this. Take me, Alexander," I hissed, biting his bottom lip hard, rolling my hips with more urgency. His groan was deep, guttural, his hands gripping my hips, guiding me as I moved against him.
I could feel him beneath me, rock hard, pressing into me with every roll of my hips. His eyes rolled back, head falling against the ground, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
I wanted, no needed him to take me. I wanted to feel his length slide into me. I wanted to know what other women felt when they knew what he felt like.
Then he sat up, his lips trailed kisses all over my chest. His hands traced all over my body this timed slowed, gentle, deliberate as his lips traveled lower, and when he reached my scar, everything stilled. The heat, the frenzy—time seemed to paused, the moment suspended between us.