Kingdom of isolation - you can't hide

Fifty Four ~ Aurora 🔞

*why did it take my stupid ass ten minutes to find an emoji*

Aurora

I never knew kissing could be so cataclysmic. Debilitating yet so heady. Just the feel of his body against mine is enough to drive me insane. But when he touches my bare skin with those sinful hands, I'm a matchstick being lit a million times over. It's sick, it's wrong. It's exactly what I've been craving all these months. I didn't want to admit it, give in to the temptation that is Alexander. His kisses are toxic, intoxicating and terrifying all at the same time. My body's eager response is evidence of that. I'm fucked up for wanting this. Wanting him.

But the drunken haze soon clears and I realise what we're doing. What I did that led to this. No. No, what was I thinking, kissing him like that? I can't let this happen. I can't. It'll ruin everything. Oh, god, it feels so good.

"Don't touch me." I breathe, pulling the hem of my shirt out of his hand. His gaze darkens at the lies coming out of my mouth, jaw clenching and unclenching. The tension between us is choking me, refusing oxygen into my lungs. I want to hide from him, stay far away from that feral look promising nothing but ruin.

My heart thunders against my ribcage like I've run a marathon, breaths choppy and unregulated. I pull my shirt down and cross my arms across my chest, cursing myself for not wearing appropriate attire when I came out of the shower. My nipples are sore, sensitive against the rough fabric. I can still feel his mouth wrapped around one nipple, firing up every neuron in my body with such an intimate gesture.

I blame today's events. I got too comfortable with him, sharing my fears and, hell, making jokes. I wasn't thinking clearly and he took advantage when I lowered my guard with him. But when I look at him, looming over me like a fallen angel, I know I'm lying to myself. I know that if he doesn't listen, if he carries what we started, I think I might finally go insane.

But he pulls away, equal part relief and disappointment coursing through my veins. I watch him take a bite out of my sandwich, masking indifference. God, I'll never eat another PB&J sandwich again.

"Next time you start something, I won't stop."

My heart skips many beats at his words, lower abdomen quivering in sick anticipation. Is that a promise? A threat? I can't decide why either excites me so much.

"There..there won't be a next time."

I awkwardly push myself away, haphazardly jumping down from the counter top, all while he watches from afar. Soon, this stupid honeymoon will come to an end, and along with it, whatever the fuck transpired between us. My perception has been manipulated, set back to zero almost.

"I'm going to bed. Don't follow me."

He's not there anymore and I still feel the need to say it out loud. I need my distance, space and my goddamn sanity intact.

I'm unable to sleep, tossing and turning. The ache between my legs is a constant reminder of all that could have been. It's a never ending fire building inside me. For him. Because of him. My sick mind replays what happened between us, serving me endless possibilities of what could have happened had I not stopped him. Even now, that feral look in his eyes sends shivers down my spine.

He's intense, so intense. He'll eat me alive and a part of me will still enjoy it.

I'm fucked.

If anyone asks me how Italy has been, I'll tell them it was a disaster waiting to happen. And I'm scared these new found feelings will carry with me once I leave.

***

"Invoices, more invoices, boring paperwork. God, this is tiring. Where's the good stuff, you stinking demon?" I sigh, sinking into the office chair. It's good to have invoices, truly, but this amount of paperwork is insane.