enigmatic |t.r.|

9.

he kissed her.

it was a long, passionate kiss, the kind of thing that can set your soul free.

her mind was foggy, her hair a knob, she was half dressed and her heart, oh her heart, was a total mess, she didn't care.

she kept telling herself that she shouldn't be there but then again, there wasn't any other place in the whole world she'd rather be.

she knew she had to break the kiss and leave but her body was a slave to the boy in front of her.

she felt as if her lips were created only for him to kiss.

his tongue all over every corner of her mouth, and she knew,

she fucking knew,

that he could taste all the lies that had gracefully slipped out of her tongue.

he removed her skirt, she preferred it much better on the floor.

she loved the way his touch made her feel like a saint,

even though she knew,

she fucking knew,

that being a saint was just an illusion for people with morals.

if you consider nothing bad, then you don't have to be a saint.

you are just human.

she liked things being just the way they were, but she could never deny the forbidden pleasure of a good lie.

with him, it was just that.

a total and massive and sweet and beautiful lie.

they would both hide behind their naked bodies and their moans and their kisses and their synchronized breaths and their orgasms, oh their orgasms, but they weren't honest with each other.

his hands left traces everywhere, from her hair to her feet, she shivered.

honesty wouldn't do them any good, they both wanted to say things the other didn't want to hear.

his hands were now in a more specific place, making her body ache with pleasure, she would never want him to stop.

if he had been honest, he would ask her out the first time they slept together.

his mouth found her breast, she took a short breath,

fuck-

if he had been honest, he would hold her hand and kiss her in front of everyone, and their house reputation could go to hell for all he cared.

he entered her slowly, his eyes quietly asking for permission, she shot her legs wider as an answer.

if he had been honest, he would tell her all of his secrets, half of them involving her; he would tell her that he wanted to hold her hand every second of the day, that he loved having her scent on his sheets afterwards, that he absolutely adored the way she was moaning his name as if it was the only thing keeping her alive, and that he would die to get to actually know her, to know every deep fucking secret of her interesting and intriguing mind.

he was going faster, she could feel the pleasure kissing every part of her body, her moans were loud, her heart a mess, she didn't fucking care.

if he had been honest, he would tell her that he was deeply and undoubtedly in love with her.

he orgasmed with her name on his lips, eyes full of love and happiness, and she finally understood the danger of having a person so close.

she looked at him, they were still moving and she was almost there.

he smiled and kissed her softly on the lips, as his hips moved harder and faster hitting her weak spot.

he looked at her as if she was his favourite thing in the whole world and she felt an unfamiliar feeling growing in her stomach.

guilt.

if she had been honest, she would been in tom riddle's bed that night.

she came.

[...]

hey. so i want to thank all of you for the overwhelming support and your amazing comments, and i'm so glad you enjoy reading the story as much as i enjoy writing it.
it means a lot and it makes me so happy.
also, i wish you all a happy and hopefully better new year!

until next time, stay safe
con xoxo