His Obligation (Under Reconstruction)

Chapter Sixteen

A constricting pain around my waist causes my eyes to flutter open, it feels like something is digging into my left side.

I panic slightly because I don't know where I am, just as the memories of last night flutter back into my mind. The murder of my mother, the explosion, the fight and glass breaking, and lastly the intimate scene between Damian Castellano and I...Rachel Miller.

My cheeks tint as my thighs rub together like they have a mind of their own, bringing back those intimate feelings of his mouth on and inside of my tender sweet spot last night.

I try to roll over as the scene replays over and over in front of me.

The way our bodies rubbed close together, nothing but skin on skin. Man and woman, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Too bad it didn't go further than that. I could have done something stupid. Like almost almost completely give myself to someone I just met.

I mean I could but I don't know. Besides I'm not ready that type of  commitment. Or worse.

Heartbreak.

I bring my legs up to curl into a ball against his chest as melancholy begins to wash over me again, only to realize that I'm not wearing any underwear.

My breathing stops as I slightly lift and peek under the covers to see if he isn't wearing any as well-and I'll be damned he is not.

He's lying on his side in all his naked glory facing me.

I can't help but let my eyes linger. He's gorgeous. And thick!

He begins to stir in his sleep bringing him to tighten the strong grip he has on me fucking tighter than the last time. If he keeps squeezing I won't be able to have his children or any children at all.

Just kidding I don't want kids I'm too unstable. Physically and mentally.

I go to pull away but it's to no avail, he's too strong for me.

His penis is touching my thigh.

I mentally scream for him to get off while shearling like a little school girl from making direct contact with it.

What?

This is s big step.

Ive never touched a penis let alone been this close to one.

Once I feel a little more calm I tap his shoulder lightly to tell him to wake up and get off, but
the light cascading in through the windows cuts me off causing my words to jumble in a whisper as the light illuminates his beautiful godlike features. Of course. Of course he'd have those typical bay windows that lets in natural lighting in the mornings.

I groan internally as I take in the little stubble that's grown along his jaw in the past two days. I can't help but fan girl. I love a man that doesn't shave.

I lift my hand to touch it, to just graze it lightly, but instead gently lay my hand back down on the pillow like a coward.

It's amazing how such a stone cold person could look so peaceful in his sleep, so... unbothered?

From the way his chest rises and falls when he takes deep inhales, to his perfect eye lashes lying perfectly still on his cheeks, to his gorgeously chiseled jaw. Plump pink lips. Drooling.

Beyond Sexy.

The thought of never seeing him again resurfaces. Never touching or rubbing my fingers over his soft plump lips. Never staring into his darkly pained filled eyes. Never having those petty catastrophic arguments that always ends with us smiling at each other and everyone else looking at us like we're crazy.