Lilith had resigned herself to be a friend of death. Just after turning 24, she was diagnosed with Cancer, something that most people would rush to find a treatment for. She'd lost the love of her life, her family, and now even her health.
Dylan w...
His lips were hot, dancing with mine, twisting them in the most passionate of ways. Our breaths matched, rhythmically. We moved into each other the more the seconds passed by. Going further, reaching each other on a deeper level.
There was a great deal of alcohol at play, but more than that, there was emotion. Raw, real emotion that was forcing all of our deepest desires right back to the surface. I couldn't bring myself to stop what I had initiated. In fact, I didn't want to stop it. I wanted Dylan to push me further, to take this thing between us further.
I had grabbed the bulls by the horns but now, I wanted the bull to take charge.
I bit the edge of his lip as he pulled back. Looking at me with so much lust in his eyes that I couldn't fight the feeling that I had to pull through the fabric of my dress. I crawled at the satin, pulling it frantically from all corners before Dylan's hands rested on my the curve of my biceps stopping me.
My breath hitched as the warmth of his hands redirected the electricity that had rushing through my body. I stared into those silvery eyes impatiently waiting for instruction, hoping that at this pause, there would later be less clothing, more touching and lots of heavy breathing.
My body was screaming at me as those grey eyes shined like diamonds under the bright lights. It wanted more. I wanted so much more of him. But it wouldn't have it, neither of us would because Dylan pushed me away. Gently, his hands made the space between us something relative.
It was a measurable distance, where just seconds ago there was none.
The fast-paced beat of my heart slowed to nothing. My rapid breathing turned to a controlled breath with Dylan's eyes still fixed firmly on me. I wanted to ask him why. Why he didn't want me? Why I wasn't enough? Why he always hid himself? I wanted to dig deeper into this mystery of a man, but instead, all I managed was a stupid chuckle and some bitter words that I regretted the instant they slipped out of my lips.
"Thanks for that. I really hate pity sex."
The way he attempted to blink away the hurt from my words was a look I'll never forget. The way his once focused eyes darted around my face, searching for something other than the biting remarks I'd made. He smiled shortly after, releasing my arms and picking up the first aid kit off the bed.
He passed me on his way to the bathroom, whispering so lowly that I barely heard him, "So do I."
I climbed into bed, my eyes wide as I stared at the empty wall ahead of me. "What the fuck did I just do?" The words hammered into my head long after Dylan silently came into the room, turned off the lights and crawled into bed.
For the first time since I became acquainted with Dylan, I had made him feel that he was the one receiving something that he didn't choose. I made him feel small and pitiful, much like I felt most of the time. And I could ask myself why I did it a million times but the answer was simple; I didn't want him to have that control anymore. I didn't want Dylan Stone to be the one who controlled every time my heart raced or to be in charge of all of my emotions.
I wanted to be the one leading the rope not the one at the other end being led.
So, yes. I may have wanted to the bull to pull me wherever he wished, but maybe it was only if we both wished to go there. He clearly didn't want to sleep with me, and if that was the case, then I wouldn't let him feel safe and content with his decision. I would make it hurt him. And hurt him it did.
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