𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝

Chapter 5 - Hypnotic

"You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit."

― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Alice

I lose my breath as soon as his lips meet mine. He lets out a sigh of satisfaction and I smile against his lips as their movements become more intense, passionate, almost violent with desire. Then his thumb comes against my bottom lip, and I obey his silent command, opening slightly my mouth ajar so his tongue can meet mine. I would do anything he asked of me right now, he owned me in this moment and he knew it, just like the last night we spent together.

But unlike the last time we kissed, this one feels more intimate, sensual, the tension between us is way more present. His thumb, after obtaining what it desired, moves towards my hips moving against his in a desperate motion, starts tracing my forms. He seductively makes them move faster against his crotch, and I groan. He feels perfect against me, as if our two bodies were meant to fit together. His skin is smooth against mine, and in between kisses, I can hear him whispering my name, as if he is trying to find some answers in it, salvation, freedom.

We are desperate for each other and it shows in our hungry movements, my hand in his neck, holding him closer to me, moaning against his lips with pure lust for him, longing for his body, his presence, after fantasizing for so long since the last time we saw each other. This kiss is everything I needed, but it still isn't enough for me. I need our bodies to merge together, for our lips to get lost to one another in their enchanting dance, I need him to drive me crazy, if it isn't already the case.

But I finally grew tired of our kiss. I need more, I need him, and I am quick to make it known. I take his hand and place it against my chest, murmuring against his lips :

– More, now.

My voice is hoarse and desperate as I tilt my head up to his, meeting his lips once again. He doesn't answer but smirks before responding to my kiss, his thumb playing tauntingly against my nipple, making it harden under my dress and my bra, making me completely desperate for him. My hands reach his shirt and start exploring his skin beneath it, caressing the sweet surface of his defined abs, wetting my mouth. I hadn't really had the opportunity last time to appreciate him, this gorgeous body which looked as if it had been sculpted by God specially for me, but now that I was seeing him, really discovering him, I just knew I couldn't ever get enough of this guy.

He was just perfect, everything I've been looking for and more. I could just get satisfied by watching his body, his eyes beneath the mask. A part of me was longing to see him for real, but I was also loving the mystery - and I probably had a mask kink too, at the point we were at.

His body pressed against mine and I could feel his erection against my hips, making my eyes roll to the back of my head. I finally give up on the foreplay, being way too wet between my thighs to keep on acting as if none of this is driving me completely crazy.

– I've been fantasizing about this moment, about you, for so long, I wish I could take the time to do it right but, fuck, Alice, you're making me lose my mind over you.

Mask's voice is filled with lust, its roughness making me feel all kinds of things between my legs - he's so effortlessly hot. As a response, my two hands take the fabric of his shirt and I pull it over his head, finally appreciating and giving justice to the piece of art his torso is. And when I said I could stare at it all day, God I wasn't kidding.

Under the pale moonlight, I trace the contours of his torso with my fingertips, marveling at the perfection before me. His abs are sculpted with an artistry that seems almost unreal, a testament to his dedication and strength. As my fingers dance lightly over his skin, I can't help but be drawn to the enigmatic scorpion tattoo that adorns his side. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't say why I was drawn to it so much, as if it was meant to get my attention. Each stroke of the tattoo seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, matching the rhythm of our intertwined desires.