GABRIELLE
I SUCKED in a breath as I felt his fingers trailing deeper into my shirt. The rough pad of his palm sensually and excruciatingly grazed the nakedness of my skin. My body started to buzz with need and anticipation, and a wicked and wanton thought started to play in my head.
The air in his room started to feel thick and heavy with needs and unadulterated pleasure. The smell of sexual tension wafted through every thick strand of the air that had been twirling around us. It was suffocating— in a very pleasurable way. I felt the hotness that ripped through the apex of my thighs when I felt his tongue licked up the hollow of my throat
Gone were the words of complaints supposedly to spill out of my mouth. It dissolved through the air of inviting pleasure and playful cradle of sexual tension. I couldn't tell him to stop; I couldn't say no; I couldn't push him away. All I wanted was to feel him, to have him conquer me. I wanted to prove to myself that Zerachiel was much more powerful than the demons that resided in my body.
"You look so fragile and soft," he mumbled as his fingers reached my two mounds waiting for his touch, "I want to fucking corrupt you,"
I was long since corrupted. There was no pureness and innocence he could corrupt within me because all of it had been burned into pieces by the demons that lurked beneath my feet. What would he react to if he found out about that? Would he stay away from me? Would he push me away?
I was never the woman he pictured me to be. I was not the innocent one. My hands were covered with blood. My head was filled with the mist of self-destruction. My heart was crusted and black.
A woman he thought I was was far different from the woman I actually was. Behind the cloak of innocence I always wore was the monster with a cracked face.
"Z—Zera . . ." I mumbled, declining the urge to protest and let the tide of pleasure slowly tug at me, "I am far from innocent,"
He stopped caressing my breasts, "I know, baby . . ."
No, he didn't. If he knew, he would have run for the hills. But he was still here, watching me crumble into pieces as he touched me in the places no one dared to touch.
"I don't care whether you're innocent or not; I'd still choose you whatever you are,"
Why me, Zerachiel? You had a long list of qualified women who could match your societal status— women who did not have any extra baggage. Bakit ako pa na sobrang daming problema at p'wedeng sumira pa sa pangalan mo?
With a shuddering breath, I struggled to hold on to his arms that snaked around my waist. My body was a servant with his playful fingers. My eyes were instantly shut as his fingers started to cup my two mounds, nipples hard as acorns.
I wanted him all over me.
I wanted to experience him.
I wanted his smell coating me.
Any reminder of him on my body.
But all these were just wishful thinking. I shouldn't be asking for more. I shouldn't be craving more than what fate could give. Asking too much would lead me to hope for more; hoping for more would lead me to broken wings.
Hope was a word that could destroy you; a simple word that amplified the willingness to earn for the brightest, for the warmest ray of the sun, but ended up with burnt skin and scarred wings.
Zerachiel was like the sun, so bright and warm, so fucking strong I always found myself gravitating toward him. He was the sun many wanted to be blessed by his warmth and light. He was so bright it was impossible to get near him. Our distance was enough— getting closer to his orbit meant your imminent demise.
