Twisted Obsession (Editing)

58 - Humiliation

Athena Luciana Bianchi

Everything feels like it's been turned inside out, especially my guts, my body still trembling, my heart racing in the aftermath of what just happened. The weight of it presses on me like a storm, overwhelming and relentless. I can't breathe without feeling the echoes of him, every inch of me branded with his touch, his words, his dominance. I try to steady my breath, but it feels impossible. My chest is tight, each inhale a sharp reminder of the raw, desperate need I had, and still have, for him.

It's not just the physical ache. It's deeper than that. A twisted mix of craving and guilt, of wanting and hating what he makes me feel. His touch, the way he claimed me with no mercy, has left me broken, but I can't deny the truth—the way he makes me feel alive, makes me feel seen in a way no one else ever has. And that fucking terrifies me.

Laying on my back, staring up at the ceiling, the cool air brushing over my heated skin. The silence is deafening, my mind racing faster than my heart can catch up. I'm still trembling, and it's not just from what we did. It's the rush, the high, the way he makes me lose control, and how much of it, how much of him, I crave it.

I can't get rid of the image of his face—his raw, hungry expression as he took what he wanted. That look in his eyes, dark and predatory, as he pushed me to the edge, made me beg. My lips are still tingling from the heat of his kiss, my body sore, my thoughts chaotic. I don't know whether I want to run from it or fall deeper into it.

But I do know one thing—I can't let myself want him like this. Not like this. Not so raw.

He pulls out and I sit up with a whimper, my mind clouded. Every inch of me is screaming for him, aching from the way he made me feel, but I can't let him have that much power over me. It's a dangerous game, and I've been burned by it before. Yet, with him, it feels different—too real to ignore, too intense to push away.

The ache between my thighs is still there, a constant reminder of the passion, the madness that just unfolded between us. His words, his touch—they linger on my skin like a permanent stain. And somehow, I know that no matter how much I try to run from it, he'll always be there, haunting me.

He wraps his strong arms around me, lifting me effortlessly, pulling me close. I feel the heat of his body seeping into mine, and I push down the storm of emotions raging inside me—lust, desire, fear, regret—a thousand feelings that are impossible to untangle, yet somehow they all belong to him, to Lorenzo.

I wrap my legs around him, instinctively pulling him closer, my hands threading through his hair, desperate for more of him. His grip tightens on my ass, his fingers digging into me with a possessive urgency. I kiss his neck, a slow, deliberate mark, claiming him as mine, as if the world could forget that he belongs to no one but me. Lorenzo—he's every dark thought I've ever had, every forbidden desire, every filthy fantasy, a constant, pulsing ache inside me that I can't ignore.

"I don't want to wait anymore," I whisper against his skin, my lips brushing his jaw, tasting him, needing him. "I want it now." I complain.

But then, he halts. His body goes still for a moment, his breath hitching, and something sharp flickers in his eyes. It's like a switch flips inside him. He drops me on my feet. His gaze is dark, wild with desire, but there's something more in his eyes. A raw hunger.

I can barely think, barely focus on anything other than the raw, aching need to have him, to be consumed by him. His voice, low and commanding, cuts through the haze of my thoughts like a knife.

"You want me?" He tunted, the sound vibrating in my chest, and I felt my body respond instantly, aching, desperate.

I can't even answer right away. His words rattle through me, sending shocks of arousal straight to the core of me, making every part of my body pulse with heat. My breath is ragged, my heart hammering in my chest, and all I can think about is him. His power. His control. The way he's making me need him more than I've ever needed anything before.