Page 37 of Enraptured

I knew he wouldn’t let me slip from this life. Truthfully, I wasn’t ready to die. But when I was out there—in the forest, I felt peace. A deep sense of peace that I’ve never felt before. The sturdy wild pony who never left my side had an old soul. He spoke to me. His wise eyes looked into mine. He told me to fight, not just to live but to remember who I am. What I want out of life. I want to be free like him. If my heart chooses to love Christos, despite everything he’s done—it’s my prerogative. He’s mine to either run from or stay with. I won’t run; deny my feelings anymore. Sometimes things just are. Even if it’s not rational. Even if others would judge me if they knew the truth.

As I stared at the sky after the fall; my mind disconnected. All that was left was feelings. My heart. My soul. As they both tried to leave me body and float away I knew where they both belonged, with the man holding me tight, the man who always knew where his missing soul was. It was in me.

The blaze from the fire heats my feet. His arms hold me tightly in his lap as he starts reciting every line to Shakespeare’s Hamlet in an effort to keep me awake. “I love you, Christos.”

His hands still. He was rubbing me, but clinically not in the least sexual. But my body warmed to his touch. His hands always did have the magic to make me come alive.

“I wish that were true,agápe.”

“It is. My heart’s always been yours. Even when you threw it back, saying you didn’t want it.” I turn in his embrace, wincing in pain but my need to be close to him is strong. Cupping his chiseled jaw with the palm of my hand, I stare at him speaking the truth in my heart so he can see it. “I love you.”

“Impossible. No one could love me after the things I’ve done.”

“Maybe I’m stupid; a foolish girl from California without a proper education. But I know what’s in my heart. Don’t question it. I love you.”

“It’s not real love, little one. It’s Stockholm Syndrome.”

“No.” I shake my head, reaching up to kiss him. My ribs hurt, but I ignore it. He tries to move his head from me, but my other hand comes up to twine in his silky hair. The blanket comes undone as I move to straddle his strong thighs.

“You’re injured. Stop.” He tries to catch my hands.

I pull back grinning at him, “Where’s my big bad DOM? Or El Diablo? Are you suddenly scared of me?” I let my legs fall open, letting him feel my folds as I slowly glide my hips back and forth over him. I’m in pain, half-dead, but know his touch brings me back every time.

He’s hard as a rock but hesitant. His nostrils flair. “Are you sure? I won’t ask again or be able to stop.”

I bite my lip as he slips a hand between my legs, finding his brand. “Yes, Christos.”

“Theos. I’ve waited forever to hear you say those words.”

He rocks against me and we both moan at how good it feels. He bends his head catching a nipple while his hands slide up and down my hips. One reaches around to massage my ass while the other moves to pinch the bar in my clit.

“No more games. You’re mine forever. Do you understand?”

“Yes! Oh God, Christos!” I moan as he slips a finger inside me.

I love this man.

Right or wrong.

It is what it is.

I’d do anything for him.

My head falls back as his hot lips trail a path of fire. “Theos. I’m going to come just from looking at you.” He picks me up, placing me on the couch, then bends my knees, lowering his head. My scream rattles the windows as he pulls my clit into his hot mouth, rolling the diamond stud with his tongue. He pulls and sucks, mutters in Greek as I writhe for him, just as I always did.

“That’s itagápe. Let go. I’ll catch you. Come for me my dove.” He slips a few fingers inside me curling up to stroke my G-Spot. My body bows, pulls tight like a string then snaps as he hums against my clit. The deep vibration making it sing.

“Christos!” I scream, coming for him just like he asked.

He flips me over while I’m still coming, slaps my ass hard then places his lips to my ear. “When you heal. I’m dragging you to the tower room.” He smacks me again, then rams himself in.

“Fuck!” He bellows. “You feel so fucking good.” He shudders against my back. “It’s been too long. Don’t ever deny me this again.” He warns, turning back into my demanding DOM. It turns me on. As he pounds into me, twining my hair around his wrists, the thick head of him touching me so deep, where I needed him this whole time—I realize he’s perfect for me. I need both sides of him. The dark and the light. The forceful DOM that makes me wet and weak and the man who gives pony rides to special needs kids.

He pulls my head back tighter his hand presses down on the small of my back, forcing me to bend to him so he can move deeper inside me. He pushes me against the cushions, hammering my G-Spot, my swollen clit hits the cushions every down thrust, I feel him tighten, his breathing comes in harsh rasps of Greek curses as he spills his load. “Mine!” he roars, spurting his release, my walls clench, milking more from him as my body answers.

“Yours,” I breathe.

He collapses against my back, refusing to pull out. “Did I hurt you more?”

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