Fall by Autumn Archer
7
What’s my fantasy?
It used to be control. Orders. Demands. These days, it’s watching this beautiful woman sleep, knowing I’ve taken everything from her only to be rewarded with her consistent consent. Her existence rests in my hands and a tiny piece of her feisty heart beats for me. I’ve seen it in her eyes. Felt it inside her body. Breathed it into my lungs. That realization makes me nauseous. It’s not something I wanted from her, and I’ll begrudgingly give it up if it guarantees her safety.
I continue to stare as if she’s a mythical creature, a wood nymph, or worse––mine. Of course, she’s none of those things. Beija flor is an innocent soul who deserves a peaceful life with a family. With people who can love her. Not imprisoned by a hollow villain like me.
The aching throb in my dick won’t settle. It doesn’t help when my gaze trails over the sheet swathing soft snowy flesh that constantly taunts me of euphoria. If I crawled over the mattress and woke her with my mouth, she’d beg me to fill her all over again. And I’d be powerless to resist.
Energy hurtles to my balls. Fucking hasn’t satisfied my curiosity or my growing appetite for her. I’m left with a searing necessity to fuck her until we’re both incapable of more. An out-of-control craving that only she incites.
Knowledge is power, and I know everything about her. Not just education and pedigree—her immortal flavor, too.
Chills rattle my bones. My belly coils when an overbearing arousal forces me to fist my empty hand instead of her disheveled hair.
After everything we’ve been through, I’m certain I can trust her to leave here and never look back. And that’s all that matters.
And my worst nightmare?
Well, that will be watching her board an aircraft and knowing her life will go on without me. Then I’ll stash my sister's murderer in an old poachers hut in the forest's belly. The thoughts of both events equally squeeze every drop of amity from my organs. And I’m mentally unprepared for either.
Tonight, I’m sitting on the periphery of darkness, peering into a world of light and wishing I could step inside. But that’s impossible for a broken man like me.
I take another swig of liquor and hold the bottle up to the lamplight. It’s less than half full now. My knees almost buckle from exhaustion, pulling me down beside her on the mattress. The reckless plan of numbing my anxiety has made me extraordinarily horny in return. Perhaps it’s the fact she’s blissfully unaware of how I’ve watched her sleep every night since she collapsed at my feet. How I’ve longed for ownership of something so pure even though I don’t deserve her virtue.
Earlier we laid in bed together until her pretty lashes lowered, and her body succumbed to rest. With her cheek nestled on my bicep and wild curls tickling my ribs, I relished the sense of intimacy. Meaningful human touch. Female interaction.
An hour or two passed with me being content and her finally free of the debt she owes. It felt too real. Too joyful for acceptance.
My stomach sank into the mattress, craving a shot of reality to settle me again. Never surrender. Don’t let the universe know she’s special to me.
Rather than cherish the moment, I gently pushed her away and returned to my role as midnight predator. The guy who watches, but doesn’t touch. The freak who jerks off while she flits in her luxurious cage, blissfully unaware of the intrusion.
But having her in my bed—it’s testing me. Straining my self-imposed limitations. Hijacking my life.
With a bottle of booze and the peacefulness of nightfall on my side, seconds slowed as if time was my friend. I left her alone while I retrieved my gun after kicking it out of her reach. When I came back up, as expected, she was still here. It felt right to find her curled up with a healing scar lining her cheek. The scar I’ve treated and kept a close eye on since she arrived.
I've watched her sleep on my bed for hours. Her imminent departure hangs over me like a swaying noose. I dread the all too familiar emptiness––the bitter loneliness that will creep back into my world when she leaves her rightful spot in my home. The desire for isolation used to be my master. It became the stick I beat myself with to keep motivated. Now I’m kneeling before the hangman, preparing to meet the darkness and wishing I could alter the course of destiny.
A light sigh escapes her, and I can’t help but find it utterly sexy. I reach out and pinch the cotton sheet hiding her feminine curves. One tug and it reveals my version of paradise. My beija flor’s exposed breasts, milky skin, fleshy naval and the apex of her womanly thighs. It’s all right there. Teasing me without a glass screen to block my greedy urges.
I messily douse my fingers in cachaça, then circle the halo of pale brown skin around her nipple. The purposeful touch stiffens my dick to solid when she responds. I’ve breached the boundary of observation. Or whatever my sick mind concludes this obsessive behavior to be.
Pale eyelids fuss. Lashes flutter. A pretty smile spreads across her cheeks. Dainty fingers reach for my hand. “Come lie down beside me, Dante.”
Our fingers graze. “I’d rather not sleep.” Closing my eyes shortens the last few hours before sunlight. The last few moments I have with her. The last few peaceful minutes before my guys bundle Miguel into a chopper and bring him here.
“Are you afraid I’ll watch you rest, like you’re watching me?” She shifts so a trickle of liquor glides over the contour of her breast. Heat waves roll in my core. “You look very serious.” She catches the bead of cachaça with her finger and slots it between her lips. My dick twangs when her mouth wraps around the digit and she sucks with seductive purpose. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“You,” I answer simply. “It’s refreshing to think of something other than…” Instead of slaughter. Rotten retribution. Violence.
“Tell me.” She props herself up on her elbows.
“Other than revenge.”
A light crease dents her brow. “Why are you out here in the wilderness and cut off from the world?”
I’m not in the mood to reminisce, so I sit silently, then raise the bottleneck to her stomach. Liquid streams into her tiny belly button and wells up in a puddle. She gasps, but stays perfectly still. Arcing over her, I lap up the sweet fruity sugarcane juice that’s made even better with a hint of beija flor.
I want more.
Her fingers dive into my hair. I drag my mouth lower on a mission to devour. I don’t need to order her legs apart. They willingly splay wide in an offering. Aware her swollen flesh must be sore from earlier; I take this opportunity to worship her instead. Hungry licks and sweeps are teamed with my hum of enjoyment.
When I taste myself inside this woman, my temperature soars to a melting point. I emptied everything I had into her under the rainwater shower, including my cum. And now the intoxicating flavor of us combined drives me crazy.
Her sexy groans tingle over my spine. The sensation of tightly captured strands catapults a rush of prickles across my scalp. A slick of essence coats my tongue. The aphrodisiac heightens my awareness of how there’s pleasure to be found beyond personal confinement.
It doesn’t take long for her breathing to race and her hips to buck. Moist flesh pushes into my face. Fuck, I love running my nose between her folds and sticking my tongue in deeper. But what I love even more is how she reacts. How her accent dances with my name and tricks me into thinking the past few years were a godforsaken nightmare. That I’m still Dante Valez. That I own Iris Kitson, and we’ll be together forever.
After her legs cease to shake and her grip releases my hair, I climb up her satiated body and press a kiss to her chin. Her palms fly to my cheeks. She drags my mouth to hers and nips my bottom lip before whispering, “We have unfinished business.”
My brows snap together. “What do you mean?”
Her torso twists, guiding my shoulders to the mattress. Then she straddles my groin. All the blood leaves my brain and powers to the one thing that can truly demolish her.
Hovering over me, her breasts jiggle as she positions herself. Fiery damp spirals fill the space between us. “Let me fuck you,” she whispers, almost scared I’ll shove her away.
“I think you like my dick, beija flor.” I capture her wrists. “Ask for permission to use it for whatever you want.”
Her pupils dilate. “Permission?” She nibbles the side of her mouth.
“Uh-huh,” I hum. “If you want it, ask for it.”
“Can I have your dick, please?” She smirks.
Releasing her dainty wrists, I shove my fingers into her hair and pull her freckled face to mine. Quick puffs of fright feather my cheekbone, and she falters. “Just so we’re clear. You’ve intrigued my dick since the night we met. It’s been sitting at a constant state of solid for weeks now. You’re my dirty little infatuation. Something I want and have no right to keep.” I lick her parted mouth, flicking her upper lip with my tongue. “But getting payback for what happened to my sister is a beast bigger than you and I. It’s bigger than this.” I graze her jaw with my teeth before taking a serious breath. “The people who murdered my little sister will die. No pardons. No forgiveness. I won’t stop until they’re dead. All of them. Do you understand who I am? And what that thirst for violence makes me?”
She whimpers. Sharp nails dig into my torso. I love the sting. It fires up my senses. Fireworks explode under my skin. Rockets send adrenaline shots to my pulse.
“It makes you normal.” Long lashes tap her eyebrow when my tongue trails the dip of her clavicle. Sexy scratches burn a hot blaze across my shoulders. It reminds me of the pain I try to forget, but somewhere along the way crave it, just to feel alive.
“There’s nothing normal about this, beija flor.” I snatch her hand. Our fingers interlock. “You’re leaving the Oasis for good. It’s final. I’ll never see you again.” My lungs pause. “So when you sit on my dick, scream my fucking name so the jungle knows who freed you. So it brands your tongue the same way my dick brands your insides.”
She lifts my distorted fingertips to her lips, drawing my index finger into her warm, wet mouth without flinching. There’s no hesitation. This woman bypasses the unsightly scars and sucks me into her innocent mouth. When she hums, the vibrations burst up my arm in volts. My electrified heart slams against my ribcage.
Her eyes sparkle when she sees the hairs on my skin prick. Molten molasses rings her excitement. Teeth purposefully nip the top of my finger. Alien pressure surges in prickles. Rays of sensations stream through my body. Affliction crosses the threshold into pleasure.
Rising to her knees, she fearlessly reverses, aligns and impales herself on my hard-on. I hiss through clenched teeth as her inner walls clamp around my dick. She takes a quick moment to get used to the fullness. Then gradually sits upright and stares down at me with eyes darkened by lust. I cinch her waist as she elevates and lowers with newfound power.
“Say it,” I grit out, watching curls skim jiggling breasts. “If you don’t scream my name, I’ll give you a reason to scream.”
Her pace goes from hungry to teasing. “Oh yeah, Dante Valez. What will you do?” he challenges.
I go from lying on my back to sitting in a heartbeat. She gasps when I secure her spine and wind a clump of hair around my hand before tugging. Her throat bows, gloriously exposed. Instead of taking advantage of her vulnerable neck, I grab her breast and bite the nipple. She’s utterly trapped. Immobilized on my throbbing dick. Locked in place with a fistful of hair. She shivers uncontrollably. Visible bumps scatter every inch of her creamy flesh.
“Dante,” she murmurs, her voice projecting to the rafters. “Please…” I exchange sharp teeth for a dragging tongue. “Dante!”
The hand cradling her nape releases ever so slightly, and her face instantly descends. Big eyes snare mine. Nose to nose. Breath to breath. And finally, lips to lips. She kisses me, and I fucking kiss her back.
Her hips rock so the connection deepens and shock waves crest. When she sinks onto my cock, intense tingles create charged volts—and a cluster fuck of hyper butterflies collide in my chest. Supreme sensations hit me from all directions, making my hands more urgent as they guide her pelvis. The skin around my balls cinches. Heartbeats drum. Hot, sweaty skin slaps and rubs.
“Dante,” she mumbles into my mouth. Her palms loop around my nape, helping her to grind and fill her pussy to capacity.
I rip my lips away, nostrils flaring. “Louder,” I demand, getting off on the rush of her obedience. Our bare chests clash as she moves.
Her jaw slackens the instant her head tips back and she slips into oblivion. A potent orgasm explodes inside her lithe body. I cradle her bowed spine as she surrenders to the euphoria, experiencing the ripples of her pleasure when her insides spasm. My name rips into the night air like it’s the only way she can exhale.
I can’t explain the climax that detonates around my heart and forces my fiery veins to bleed for her. It coils inside my gut and unravels when she goes limp with exhaustion. My lungs blaze with every haggard breath I take.
I’ve never experienced sex like this. Not where the woman takes control or I relinquish power, and that’s exactly what I did. I allowed myself to feel every bombshell of emotions and every phenomenal sensation. I fucking loved it. Need more of it. Crave it within every cursed molecule in my tortured body.
How this happened is unknown to either of us. We both tried to resist, but in the end she’s my addiction, my source of insurmountable energy and the bright light shining on my sad existence.
Her forehead presses to mine, sweaty and warm. Loose curls drape her shoulders, catching in my fingers as I trace the bones on her spine. We’re connected in every possible way. Even our eyelashes flutter together with flirty intent as my cock remains buried inside her. I may as well burrow in deeper and admit she owns me.
We catch a breath, staring quietly at each other without wanting to break the connection. What started out as two strangers fighting an attraction, has escalated into a bond thicker than blood ties. Richer than wealth. Hungrier than starvation.
There isn’t a single thing I’d change about my feisty hummingbird. From her beguiling Scottish accent to her easy company.
It’s all her.
She embodies everything I desire and never knew I had to have. We have an affinity that most people will never experience in a lifetime.
My brain goes fuzzy, and my pulse thrums with life.
For the first time in forever, I feel alive––and confused.
I’m driven towards redemption, but the pull of ownership, belonging and having beija flor by my side forever, is taking over.
If only life was that simple.
I’d rather live a life in the shade, a life of loneliness, than be responsible for her death. That acceptance blisters my secret wish to be with her, sinking my mood under the weight. When the time comes for her leave the Oasis, I’m not sure if I’ll have the fortitude to stand back and watch.
