Page 115 of Eyes Like Angel
Time stood still, his hands clenched on my waist, pulling me closer.
In swiftness, he got up and carried me into his arms, slung me over to his shoulder, leading upstairs in his bedroom.
In his bedroom, it was cleaner, but several differences made change. There were Catholic angels plastered and his neon lights installed in a darkened room when we entered, lips still attached.
He placed me down on the bed and undoes his attire, unbuttoning his suit, revealing his buttoned-up tunic, watching me.
Adrian crawled on top of me and placed his passionate kiss, humming in the midst of passion. I had my eyes on the ceiling, dazed; delving into his kisses, sensing his hand kneaded my breast.
“Ah, fuck, Eva. I need you,” he uttered, his lips grazed to mine.
My mouth breathed against his lips, a string of saliva attached between our gaping lips.
“I’ll take good care of you, my angel,” he said to me, grazing his fingers back from my face. Then he tugged the veil open, my hair locks loosened and fell onto my breasts. It has been growing since forever; not recalling the last time my hair has been cut or trimmed.
Adrian’s eyes broadened at my appearance, as if he was seeing someone else who resembled as me. My hair cascaded down to my breasts, oily and long, uncared for since the dark attic I slept on has no bathroom, and I was afraid of water.
His hands pinned on my hips. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, purring with quiet admiration.
I found myself flustered at his statement, since I was accustomed to being self-conscious, but in the church, anything has to do with emotions like this must be discarded permanently and served the Lord.
But Adrian was the first person who made me feel various things I couldn’t decipher, trying to figure out if what he’s stating was filled in authenticity or fraudulence.
He leaned a bit closer, his thumb crazed on my cheek, perceiving me. “With or without your veil, you’re still my Eva,” he said. “Never forget that.”
My breathing held in.
“Never forget, my beloved Eva,” he said, placing his kiss. “All mine.” He placed another. “Mine.” He sets another languid kiss, devouring me.
He placed my back down onto his cushion, watching him stripped off of his clothes, undressing me with hunger in his dark eyes. He yanked my tattered underwear and tossed it aside as he had my arms lifted up, removing my habit, then tossing my worn out shoes.
“Hold on tight, my beloved,” he cautioned with a tiny smirk. “This might be hell or heaven for you. I hope this meeting; this bond we shared between us is heavenly.” Each sentence he placed, he gave kisses, his loving kisses.
I didn’t want his kisses to end.
Adrian shed his trousers and his boxers, unveiling his long shaft and placed himself in between my folds and plunged in.
“Oh God,” he grunted, hissing, biting my shoulder blade, holding me into an embrace against him.
He took my crucifix pendant off from my neck and let it dangle on his neck as I watched him shifted in a tremendous pace.
While I, on the other hand, was in content.
***
A moan escaped through my lips as the hard shaft pounded my swollen insides, clutching tighter, sloppier. Heavier.
The darkened room was getting hotter. Hot neon lights grew brighter.
The crucifix on his neck dangled, rattled at his speed.
Breathy moans blared through the air, and the squelching sound of my wet cunt sealed, large hands enclosed my thin waist, dragging my body, and bruised downward onto his lower hips, pressing and thrusting his throbbing shaft, constricted against my folds. The room suppressed in quietude, and the air has gone warmer; sweat beaded on our skin. Lips cracked into soundless pitch in our breath, ragged, staggered.
Bed creaked as his hips thrusted faster, huffed, our craved breaths trembled, and sweat collided between mine and his, air temperature boiling when the room used to be so chilling.
Everything was happening so fast. One minute we had a glass of mojito, the next I ended up being trapped at the bedroom mattress, hands tied and strapped onto the metal headboard; he could flip me over when he wanted to. My mind missed an important piece before leading up to the heated occurrence. Smacked me from behind, he pressed his moist lips against my bruised shoulder.
Grazed his lips on my earlobe, his hot tongue licked and nibbled the tip, his body tucked lowering the space on my aching back closer, collided skins got hotter, his massive hand kneaded my breast as his hips grinded slowly, teasingly. I heard satisfaction in his croaked sigh, strands of his whitest shade of blond hair splayed over my bruised shoulders.
