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She springs up from the couch and rushes into my room, her footsteps echoing and fading as she disappears. Confusion fills my mind as I try to comprehend her sudden actions. She suddenly reappears, clutching a bundle of black material in her hand — her clothes. Pausing by the television, her gaze lingers on the cell phone resting there before she gingerly grabs it.
Amber doesn't say a word as she inches toward the door. I watch her, silent, stoic. She was never mine. I took her freedom, then her body.
Her leaving is right.
She suddenly hesitates, biting her lip.
Picking up on why, I indicate toward the door. "It's unlocked," I assure her. It was always unlocked.
At some point, part of me secretly hoped she’d attempt to escape, sparing me the guilt of holding her captive. I am, after all, using her as a pawn in my vengeful plan against her despicable ex.
Surprisingly, even after the revelation, Amber remains undecided. To my astonishment, she pivots and walks toward me. I brace myself for the expected retaliation—I'm likely about to be hit.
But instead, she moves closer, her arms hesitantly enveloping me in an unexpected embrace. I momentarily tense up, caught off guard by the contact.
Amber hugs me, her things in hand, her freedom at stake, she hugs me. It's a gesture I never anticipated. Despite my initial surprise, I find myself surrendering to the warmth and comfort, allowing my tense muscles to relax in her embrace.
In this brief moment, held tightly in her arms, I’m realizing how long it has been since I felt anyone hold me like this. Amber Schaprio, in all her complexity, is hugging the very person who held her captive. The contradiction tugs at my heart, stirring emotions deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Slowly, we pull away, but an unspoken tension fills the air, lingering between us. Our gazes lock, and time seems to suspend, elongating the moment.
Without thinking, without questioning, our lips meet in a hesitant, tentative kiss. The outside world fades away, and all that remains is this magical, inexplicable moment between us.
As the kiss begins to wane, I attempt to pull away, to let her go and honor the decision to release her from this tumultuous time.
Except I stop.
Something within me resists, pushing against the rationality of my intentions. A wave of conflicting desires crash over me, reminiscent of our encounter last night when my sole purpose was to please Amber. And now, inexplicably, that desire to bring her pleasure is all-consuming.
Our lips part and Amber simply looks at me, her eyes searching mine for answers, for confirmation that what just happened was real. I can see the mix of emotions in her gaze—desire, confusion, and a hint of vulnerability.
Without speaking, I reach out and gently grasp her hand. The touch sends a surge of electricity through me, eliciting a shiver down my spine. It's an unspoken invitation, a shared understanding that there’s more to explore, to unravel between us.
Amber doesn't resist; instead, she reciprocates, squeezing my hand gently. Leaving the living room behind, our hands interlocked, we make our way down to my bedroom, each hushed step fueling the growing tension between us.
We stop at the end of the bed, gazes locked, breaths shallow. We move simultaneously, tugging at shirts, peeling away the layers until we’re both naked.
We come together, the air thick with anticipation, and the moment skin brushes skin, the kinetic energy that was building detonates.
Our mouths devour. Our hands grasp, knead, clutch and don’t let go. The room fills with the sounds of gasps and moans and shuddered breaths.
I lift Amber’s leg, my pulse a roaring river through my veins, hardening my cock until it’s almost painful.
I can’t wait. I need to seal this moment, brand her with its intensity. I thrust against her, the action primal, half-feral, only for my breath to whoosh out when I’m met with slick heat. For the air to be trapped in my tight chest when Amber wraps her other leg around my waist, snugly settling her heat against me. Trapping me there.
She’s so wet, so ready. So desperate to take me inside her.
“Amber,” I groan brokenly.
“Cole,” she whispers back, my name somehow a demand and a veneration at the same time.
Slamming into her waiting pussy is inevitable. Falling onto the bed and cushioning my weight so I don’t crush her is the rightest thing I’ve ever done.
Moving, thrusting, taking my time to withdraw then slowly impale myself all over again is mind-fucking-blowing.
Our mouths find the other, lips melding, tongues tangling as I make love to Amber Schaprio.
It’s fast. It’s slow.
