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The tempest of our earlier discord gives way to a different storm altogether—one of desire and a deep, aching need. Our lips meet in a cascade of kisses that speak of apologies and promises, each touch a testament to the hunger we feel.
"Are you sure you want to do this now?" I ask, the words laced with longing as I trace the line of her jaw with my lips, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch.
"Absolutely," she breathes out, her hands tugging at my shirt and pulling me closer. “I've never been more certain of anything."
Her certainty is my undoing. With careful reverence, I peel away her clothes, piece by delicate piece, revealing the soft, beautiful form I've come to adore. Her vulnerability under my gaze is precious, stirring a protective warmth inside me that rivals the heat of my desire.
She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of emotions. "Damien," she whispers, her voice laden with an emotion that wraps itself around my heart.
"You overwhelm me, Mariya," I confess as I lower my lips to hers once more. "In all the right ways."
Our kisses deepen, the heartbreaking exchanges of moments ago giving way to a passion that can no longer be contained in mere words. I'm gentle yet insistent, every move deliberate to show her how much she means to me. I want to envelop her in my love, in my arms, to make her feel as if she's the only woman in the world.
Mariya takes the lead, her delicate fingers working deftly to rid me of my remaining clothes.
Her lips are soon on my cock, warm and inviting, and a shiver runs down my spine. The sensation is exquisite, an intense wave of pleasure that draws a deep groan from my throat. I'm lost in the sheer rightness of her touch.
When it's my turn to worship her, I do so with fervor, my mouth exploring the softness of her skin, savoring the taste of her, committing every sigh and moan to memory. She surrenders to the waves I draw forth, a symphony of pleasure that peaks under my determined ministrations.
And she is beautiful, ethereal in her abandon, a vision that etches itself onto the canvas of my mind. The duality of my feelings for her swells within me—the fierce need to protect her clashes with the raw, primal urge to claim her as mine.
The room fades away until there's nothing but the heat between us, the friction of skin on skin as we explore each other with an intensity that feels like it's been building for lifetimes. I trace the contours of her body with my lips, each curve a map to ecstasy, her soft moans a melody that stirs the depths of my soul.
Her fingers dig into my back, urging me closer, and I comply without hesitation, driven by a hunger that only she can sate. She arches beneath me, a silent plea for more, and I answer with a surge of passionate, deep thrusts, each one more insistent than the last. We're lost in each other, the world beyond our embrace, nothing more than a distant whisper.
Our rhythm intensifies a shared pleasure that spirals upward, threatening to shatter the fragile hold we have on reality.
The wave finally breaks, and I erupt deep within her, sweeping us along in a rush of overwhelming sensation. We cling to each other as if we could hold back the dawn and stay lost in this night forever.
She fits so perfectly against me like she's the missing piece of a puzzle I didn't know I was assembling. As she shifts, her eyes searching mine, a silent conversation passes between us, an understanding that transcends words.
When she whispers her acquiescence, her voice is a soft melody that resonates with the thud of my heartbeat.
"Yes, I'll go," she says, and the words are a sweet ache in my chest, a paradox of relief and sorrow.
The very idea of her leaving, of being separated by miles and silence, is painful to think about. It's a thought so acute that it carves through the layers of my guarded heart, revealing a vulnerability I've never allowed myself to acknowledge.
Her gentle touch, the way she brushes a stray lock of hair from my forehead, feels like a balm, yet it also sharpens the impending sense of loss. I tighten my hold on her as if, by sheer will, I could merge our paths and alter the course fate has charted for us.
In her embrace, I'm both the man who must send her away for her protection and the man who yearns to keep her close, shielded by my arms. This dichotomy is a new battlefront, one that wages deep within the trenches of my soul.
Her presence has become a necessity, as vital as the air I breathe, and the thought of her absence is a specter that looms with unforgiving clarity. But this is the path I must choose to safeguard her from the danger that clings to my world like a shadow.
Chapter 22
Mariya
The morning is crisp, and there is a chill in the air that seems to mirror the cold dread settling in my belly. As we approach the train station, the bustle of the city swirls around us, oblivious to the silent drama unfolding in Damien's sleek car. I grip my bag tight as if it were a lifeline to the world I'm leaving behind, even if it's temporary.
Damien's presence beside me is a fortress of warmth, his hand finding mine, his touch grounding. We walk in unison, the clamor of the station growing louder as we near the platform. He leans in, his breath a whisper against my ear, giving me the details of the contact awaiting in Helsinki. "The password is Northern Lights," he says," and the response is 'only when the sky sings.'"
The words sound like a secret spell, a promise of safety, but they do nothing to alleviate the ache in my chest. Our pace slows as we reach the platform, and it’s as if I can actually feel every second ticking by, each one a step closer to our separation.
When it's time to board, the world seems to pause, the sounds of announcements and the chatter of passengers fading into a hushed backdrop. Damien pulls me close. Our lips meet, and in that kiss is everything—fear, longing, a silent plea for return. I hold onto him like he's my anchor, my heart aching at the thought of pulling away.
As I step back, his eyes lock onto mine, a storm of emotions swirling within their green depths. "Be safe," he murmurs, and in those two words, I hear everything he can't say out loud.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat, and step onto the train. Finding a seat, I press my hand to the window, watching him stand there. The train lurches forward, and as the distance grows, our connection feels like a thread stretching, taut, and precious.
