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Thirty-Three
Scarlet
If I am going down, I am going down a satisfied woman.
Gone are the nasty thoughts of death and doom. Inside each kiss, each touch, Luca gifts me with the sweet serenity of distraction. I know this doesn’t mean anything to him. I don’t fucking care. His touch erases the pain I feel. His kisses cloak the regrets and anger that have found home in me.
I have always wanted to know what it felt like to be completely inhibited from guilt or indecision. To know what it was like to take something selfishly without a second thought of consequence. Right now, at this moment, I allow myself to switch off my mind and let go of everything, giving myself the freedom to feel good in this shitty, shitty world.
It’s invigorating just to let go. To have no expectations and just live in the moment. I have never felt so free. So unbelievably free.
Luca’s hands wander over me; his kisses are sweet lullabies soothing the ache that has so long-lived in my heart. I’d expected him to be rough and ferocious, yet he is the complete opposite. I take the lead, tugging his shirt up and over his head. The site of his tattooed tanned torso sends rippling waves of heat through my body. He is fucking gorgeous. The absolute image of pure masculinity.
Running my hands over his round shoulders, I bite his bottom lip as I feel each tight curve of his pecs and defined muscles of his abdomen. Luca growls softly as I unbuckle his belt, undoing the button of his jeans. I can feel his restraint, his instinct to take over, but he tames himself, allowing me to be in control as if he senses I need his surrender.
I tear off my sweater, throwing it onto the floor. My bare skin delights in the cool air, taking away some of the heat that we created between us. Goosebumps litter my skin as he trails kisses across my collarbone and swipes his tongue over the swell of my breasts. The constant grinding against the hardness in his jeans has me dripping wet and swollen with need.
With swift hands, he pulls the lace of my bra down, cupping my exposed breast. Rolling my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, they harden, sending a surge of sweltering heat flurry through my body and straight to my core.
His wet tongue circles each nipple before taking one into his mouth and softly bites it. I push him down onto the bed and kiss him with every ounce of breath until I am dizzy with lust and longing.
One moment I am on top of him trying to catch my breath. The next, he has me flipped onto my back, fingers tearing away at my bra, before working quickly to remove my jeans and panties. His mouth is on my sex before I can ever register the unbelievable sensation of his tongue licking across my clit. My back arches, fingers digging into the duvet with the rapidly building sensation to cum.
He licks, sucks, and pumps his finger inside of me until my toes curl, and I scream out a long-exasperated moan. Never have I cum so hard in my life. It may sound cliche, but I think I am seeing tiny silver stars dance across the room. Raising his head, the glisten on his lips is evidence of my earth-shattering explosion.
There is a deep hunger in his eyes, full of passion and promise, as he removes his pants and climbs on top of me. I guess there is no need for protection. He will be the last man I ever sleep with. His seed will die with me when the night comes to an end, when I come to my end.
I shake the horrid thoughts away, tonight I live. I feel and I let go.
His cock, hard and heavy, presses at my entrance as his eyes find mine. Pausing, he looks at me with such a burning passion and desire. It takes my breath away. It’s too much. I don’t want to acknowledge the connection. I don’t want to give thought to the sparks that sizzle and buzz when he touches me. I can’t. I won’t.
Leaning up, I slam my lips onto his, breaking his trance. I guide his hips forward, pressing him inside me. Closing my eyes, I feel my channel opening to him, adjusting, stretching with every inch of him. His hips move of their own accord now, and my body trembles with beautiful bliss as each stroke fills me further and further. He buries his head in the crook of my neck, slowly pumping in and out. It’s a slow and sensual rhythm that has my heartbreaking with the knowledge that this is all we'll ever be. Tears escape my eyes and roll in a steady stream down my face. How can someone so bad feel so unbelievably good?
Luca is not rutting into me like an animal on heat, nor is he fucking me like a man on a mission. He is baring his soul to me with every thrust. He is bleeding all his sadness, all his regret, into every kiss. I feel it. I feel it all.
Noticing my tears, he looks at me with a silent understanding as if he feels everything I do as he keeps slowly pumping in and out. It’s like time has stopped, and the world around us has faded out. Nothing else matters but what we are sharing here and now.
As he picks up his pace, tension builds in my stomach, my legs flex, and my core clenches. I feel him thicken and throb inside me as we both cum together. A deep guttural groan escapes him. I can’t help but watch him as he closes his eyes and gives in to the earth-shattering around us.
I want to hold him inside me, never let go. I want this moment to last forever, but as he slowly pulls out of me, the loss of him is almost too much to bear. Laying himself down beside me, he pulls me into him. I curl into his chest and listen to the rapid beats of his heart.
My eyes are heavy, my body drained, but I don’t want to fall asleep. I know that when I do, tomorrow will come, and tonight will be lost forever.
Thirty-Four
Luca
Lying on her stomach, face towards me, Scarlet soundly sleeps. As the sun rises, shadows flicker across her porcelain face. She is so perfect and beautiful. I feel a physical pain inside my chest with the knowledge that she will never be mine.
Scarlet is a voice for those whose voice is not loud enough. She is an opinion for those that are not brave enough to speak for themselves. An audience for injustice, a fighter for the truth, and a platform for lies to spill upon.
I am nothing like her. The enforcer. The deliverer of death. I am an injustice. I silence the brave, muting those who fight to expose us. I am the villain, the monster, the living, breathing reason people have nightmares.
In all my darkness, with her light, there seems to be warmth in between—a bittersweetness to cold, harsh reality. There is no redemption for me. For everything good she is, I am bad. I do not deserve a woman of her stature.
My grandfather told me when I was a child that if you're ashamed, you're to blame. Stand tall and proud. Accept your fate. A man that never looks back always moves forward. Those few short sentences stuck with me all these years. Today though, I do not feel proud. I am ashamed of everything I am and everything I stand for. That is the power this one little redhead that lies on my bed holds. The ability to make me feel accountable. To awaken the human inside of me that has so long been controlled by the beast.
Being alone never bothered me before. But seeing my brother and cousin recently both find love, it’s something I never considered for myself. Yet, when I look at Scarlet, I see so much promise in her. A promise of love and forgiveness, truth and life.
