JUSTINA POV
I shut the door behind me, but the silence in the room wasn't soothing — it was suffocating. My skin still tingled where he touched me. My thighs clenched involuntarily at the memory of his fingers, the heat of his breath, that musky, muscular scent that had enveloped my whole being.
I leaned back against the wall, heart pounding, my breath shallow. I hated this. I hated how badly I wanted more — more of everything, and more of him. My fingers curled against my stomach. I hadn't even reached my bed. My legs were weak, sore in that good, awful way, and my panties clung wetly between my thighs like a silent, mocking reminder of what had just happened. And yet… I wanted him again. I needed him again.
But I couldn't move. I stood frozen in the dimness of my room, shadows creeping across the floor from the hall light I hadn't turned off. My heart betrayed me as I kept repeating his words in my head over and over again: "Pretend this never happened." How is that even remotely possible? After opening Pandora's box, yes, I could close it again, but how am I supposed to return all the sinful pleasures back into the box? That's like telling a barren woman she is pregnant, only to go back and inform her it was a wrong report. I wasn't ready for it to be over. And even with self-hypnosis, I could not convince myself.
Sean. I need him now.
Calming myself down, I take my phone and make the call. It takes a while before he answers, although he usually picks up the phone on the third ring at the latest, but that is the least of my thoughts.
"Meet me at our place. Now." I say, with urgency in my voice that I try to suppress as much as possible.
Before I could hang up, Sean interrupts me.
"Wait, Jus, I... I can't meet you now. I'm busy. Uhm... actually, there's something I need to discuss with you... I—"
"Okay, no problem. Meet me, then we can discuss it. You were never busy, Sean. You can't be busy at this moment. Let's meet now," I say. I am irritated beyond reason.
"Look, Jus, I was trying to be nice here. I am busy — for real. I wanted to tell you this face to face, but I'll just say it now. Let's stop seeing each other, okay? I have a fiancée, and I'm planning to marry by the end of the year. So it's not very convenient."
He sounded very calm, but I know Sean, and I can detect the nervousness in his voice. His statement sobers me from my lust intoxication in an instant. He couldn't — not him, at least. Even if I didn't love him, I had at least liked him by now. So how?
But I can't seem to get anything out of my mouth, so I blurt out anything that could form in my mind.
"Oh… okay… bye."
I cut the call, and the tears I have been fighting all along come crashing down.
I don't know how much time passed, but when I came to, I was on the floor next to the bed. I seem to have fallen asleep on the floor. Looking at the clock on the wall, it is 1:23 AM. I collect my thoughts and force myself to go to the bathroom for a quick shower. After that, I feel refreshed and well-adjusted. I change into another pair of pajamas and prepare to go to sleep when I hear a knock on the door.
I didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway. He stepped in like he belonged there.
"Why are you hiding from me?" His voice was low, too calm, too sure of himself.
I stared at him. The disbelief that crossed my mind did not reflect on my face, for I am too tired to care about anything right now.
"What is it that you want from me, Dex?" I am beginning to question everything that has happened lately, and the more I think about it, the more disturbed I become. Before a comprehensive thought can cross my mind, he takes more steps toward me with a smirk on his face.
He didn't look like someone who had made a mistake. His shirt was still unbuttoned, his hair tousled, but his eyes… they weren't apologetic. They were sharp and clear.
"Isn't this what you wanted?" he asked, stepping closer.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came.
"Don't lie," he murmured. "Don't lie to me."
He came close enough for me to smell him — sweat, musk, and something darker, like sin soaked into his skin. So familiar that I gulp. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and that small touch nearly undid me.
"You've been walking around this house dripping need," he whispered. "You didn't even realize it, did you? The way you watched me, the way you shifted when I passed by… God, Justina."
My breath hitched. I want to deny his words, refute him at least, but I don't trust my voice right now.
He pinned me to the head of the bed without force — just presence. His hands didn't touch me yet, but I felt his heat crawling over my skin. His eyes, a shade darker.
"I've been patient," he said. "Too fucking patient. And now that I've had a taste of you... you want me to pretend it didn't happen?"
His hand slipped between my thighs.
What did he just say? Is he putting all this on me? Is he trying to imply that I did this to him when he clearly is the one who said otherwise? Where did he get the nerve?
Just as I want to struggle, he moves close to my ear.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered, fingers brushing the soaked fabric of my panties, and I jolted from the current that passed through my whole body. "Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you aren't soaked for me right now."
A moan slipped out of me. Not a word of denial could fight its way out of me.
He smiled. A dangerous, knowing smile.
His hands slowly trailed into my pajamas, and he pinched my left nipple.
"Ahh—mph." I could hear myself sounding needy.
"That's what I thought."
His mouth crashed onto mine. It was brimming with pure control and dominance. He sought to dominate the kiss like if he could swallow me whole, he would do it in a heartbeat. While he kissed me, his hands were not idle. One hand traveled from one breast to the other while the other drew circles on my abdomen.
"I've wanted to do this for sooo long…" He broke off the kiss and lowered his head to my neck, then licked tentatively, like he was sampling a tasty delicacy. Then he nipped, again and again, before going full-blown, kissing slowly from neck to collarbone while he used more force on the nipple he was fondling.
Then he just stopped and stared at me. I don't know for how long. All I knew was that I needed to feel him touching me again.
Then his hands went to his waist, and in a maybe-practiced motion, his belt was undone.
He tied my wrists with his belt — not tight, not cruel, just enough to make me feel him.
"Your pussy is wet, baby, and you look like a needy slut right now…"
He whispered more dirty talk into my ear as he kissed down my chest, tongue flicking and sucking on each nipple with calculated care. When he bit — just lightly — I arched off the bed, the belt digging into my skin as I gasped.
"You like that?" he asked, licking the sting away. "You want to be ruined properly this time?"
His hands trailed lower, slower than before.
"Tell me, Tina, what do you want?" he asks in a slow, hoarse voice.
But I could not make myself say it, for it would undo me completely — make me admit that I want what is not mine.
"Say it, baby, or I'll just stop entirely. What do you want... mmm... tell me what you want."
"Please... aaahmmph... yeah... I want... ooh... I..." But those words could not pass through my mouth. They refused to leave, no matter how much torture I felt right now.
His two fingers were going in and out of my pussy in a slow, teasing manner as his mouth licked my clit in circles. It made me writhe against the sheets, desperate for release. He used his fingers like a master — curling, stroking, never quite giving me enough. When I whimpered in frustration, he only chuckled.
"Patience," he murmured. "You made me wait all those weeks. Now it's your turn."
He went down on me — relentless, filthy, patient. He held my hips down with strong arms as I thrashed, crying out his name like a mantra. The belt strained against my wrists, my body slick with sweat and desperation.
I was so lost — my eyes now hazed over, I couldn't tell exactly what was in front of me properly — but I could see that he was also lost in his lust, and his sweaty body was speaking louder than his mouth. My eyes trailed to his family jewels, and it was as erect as the Eiffel Tower. I gulped as the need in me grew stronger. I was tempted to just remove it and stroke it, but I couldn't do anything with my lusty, weak body.
Like he knew exactly what I was thinking, he removed his clothes in swift motions and placed himself between my legs.
When he finally thrust into me, it was slow and deep and measured.
"You feel that?" he whispered against my lips. "Every inch of me, inside you — where you knew you wanted me all along."
"Oooh yes, please... more of you... I want it... aaaah please move faster..."
"Good girl. Scream my name, you slutty baby." His thrusts increased in pace, and the power in every thrust was more vigorous than the last. Then he tossed me over, with my back facing him. In this position, he went deeper than before, hitting that sweet spot that made my toes curl and my head buzz.
His hands roamed my body in worship as his lips covered mine in a needy, dominant kiss that demanded, not coaxed. He was too good at this, and I felt like I was floating.
I came with a scream, my body arching, the orgasm crashing over me like a wave too strong to resist.
He didn't stop. He kept going.
"Yes, good girl. You did good. Fuck, you're good at this… spread wider, Tina, yes..."
Whispering, cursing, praising — more dirty talk spilled out of his mouth.
"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, a low guttural sound rising from his throat. When he finished, he collapsed beside me, breathing heavily, arm draped across my chest.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of our breaths mingling.
Then he whispered, "This isn't over, Justina."
I turned to look at him, eyes half-lidded, body still trembling.
And I knew he was right. This wasn't just lust anymore. It was something darker. Something inevitable. Something we couldn't walk away from — not without scars. I didn't know if I was strong enough to show those scars, but for now, I knew I was happy enough to lick the wounds.