Kissing has always been a fantasy for me. That consuming passion, that need for more.
I blame romance books for this, by the way.
That day at Ronan’s party, I thought I knew what kissing is like. A bit of passion, a bit of force, a lot of heartbreak.
Now, a different type of emotion seeps into me as Xander takes possession of my mouth.
Desperation.
That’s the right word. It’s the only emotion that whirls through me, and it does so with wrecking force.
I let him kiss me like it’s our first and last kiss together. I don’t care if we never get anything after this, as long as he kisses me with this desperation and the need to own me, be with me.
He tastes of vodka and mint, a strong mix that hits me straight in the chest. I inhale him deeply and don’t dare to exhale, afraid it will end the moment and we’ll go back to our separate worlds as if we were never meant to be.
When Mari told me the monkey, Kir, came here to spend the night, I might have cursed my little brother.
After the text Xander sent me, blatantly pushing me away once more, I was ready for my comfort K-dramas and my moody playlist.
The thought of confronting him made me want to cry, but I’ve tried so hard not to cry all this time, so I won’t be doing it now.
The fog becomes stronger when I cry, and he’s been feeding it non-stop for years.
Ahmed welcomed me in, saying Kir was asleep. I considered waking him up, but I couldn’t disturb him. Besides, as soon as I was in the guest room Kir was in, Cole and Aiden came knocking at the door. They said Xander was in trouble.
I didn’t think when I ran here, when I pushed the door and walked inside with wobbly legs. He was sleeping upside down on the bed, his head lolling over the side and his hand bandaged, covered with dry blood and dangling from the edge.
The first thing I did was check his pulse. I was going to leave once I made sure he was alive, I really was. But one touch of his hair turned into two, and before I knew it, I was sitting on his bed and then he opened his eyes and called me Green, and I kind of lost it.
I’m losing it right now.
Because I know by experience that his kisses, his slight moments of closeness, only have heartbreak tied to them. If he freed me of our twelve years’ promise after the first kiss, what is he going to do now? Demand I sell my soul to the devil? Make me watch as he stomps all over my heart?
I place two hands on his strong shoulders and shove him away. His lips leave mine with a whimper – from my side, not his. Why the hell am I mourning his loss when I never had him in the first place?
“Xander, I –”
“Shh.” He places an index finger on my lips, which are hot and tingly because of him. “Don’t ruin it.”
I push his hand away, careful not to hurt his injury, and take another deep inhale, then regret it because all I breathe is him. “You’re the one who ruins everything.”
“No, you did.” His eyes are half-droopy, and his face is so pained, it’s like being shot at and not having the ability to die.
“I did?” I repeat.
“If you didn’t take me there, if you…” he trails off and shakes his head. “But it doesn’t matter now. Let me kiss you.”
He reaches out for me, but I struggle to push him away. He’s strong, even when drunk. “No. I’m not willing to pay the price.”
“No price.” He grins and his cheeks crease with those dimples.
Those beautiful, beautiful dimples.
My heart might have stopped beating for a second.
He told me I’m beautiful and he hates me for it, and it’s the same for him.
He’s so brutally handsome, I curse him for it every day.
I curse him every time I see a good-looking man and compare him to Xander.
I curse him every time I have fantasies and he’s always the main character in them.
I curse his perfect hair and ocean-deep eyes and charming fucking smile because they never belonged to me.
“I hate you,” I murmur, though my fingers dig into his T-shirt. “I hate you so much.”
“I hate you, too, Green.” His lips hover a few inches away from mine.
“Stop calling me that.”
“I’ll call you whatever I fucking please. You’re my Green.” He grabs me by the arm and flips me so I’m lying on the bed and he’s hovering above me. “Now, shut up and let me kiss you.”
Even though my body is yelling for that and shouting at me to let him make my fantasies come true, because I know he will, I don’t give in to that urge. I plant both hands on his chest. “Are you going to be disgusted with me afterwards?”
“I’m never disgusted with you.”
“But –”
“Shut up, Green.” There’s no maliciousness behind his words. If anything, they’re playful, amused even, with a casual appearance of his dimples.
“The other time, you –”
“Shut the fuck up, Green.”
“Not until –”
My words die as he grabs me by my nape and invades my mouth. And I don’t mean a simple kiss. This time, he’s really devouring me.
It’s like he’s starving and I’m dinner. He’s on a stranded island and I’m his survival.
A moan rips from me as his body moulds to mine. The friction of his hard chest against my breasts and thighs elicits a violent shiver. My nipples tighten and strain against my camisole. A tremor grips me and my hands shake as I dig my fingers into his back – his strong, sculpted back.
It’s as if my hands don’t believe what’s happening. How do people normally react when their deepest, darkest fantasies come true?
If I had known, I would’ve probably done something about it. But right now, I just let myself fall into it, free fall and all.
Hard and fast.
With no landing in sight.
“Fuck,” he growls near my mouth. “Why do you taste better than in other dreams?”
“W-what?”
“Shh, don’t talk. If you do, I’ll wake up.” His fingers curl at the hem of my T-shirt and bring it over my head.
My chest heaves as his eyes trail down my body, the stretch marks and the not-so-flat stomach. It’s nothing like the model figures he’s used to. I despise comparing myself to them, but I can’t help it.
He’s my best fantasy, and it hurts to be his worst.
“You used to be more beautiful.” He runs his hand down my stomach. “I hate the fake you, she’s not my Green.”
And then he’s kissing down my stomach, over every stretch mark and every blemish, over every curve and part of me I don’t even like to look at myself.
His hot lips leave scorching trails in their wake like a rapid burning fire.
“Don’t change.” Kiss. “Don’t be fake.” Kiss. “Be you.” Kiss. “Be my beautiful Green.”
A sob tears from my throat with every word out of his mouth and breathed against my skin. I cover my eyes, not wanting him to see me this way.
What the hell is he doing to me?
“Look at me.” The order in his voice makes me drop my hands slowly.
He’s hovering over me again, his hands disappearing underneath my back to unclasp my bra.
The deep blue of his eyes holds me hostage as he speaks in a low, gut-wrenching tone. “Always look at me, not away from me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Even if I hate you and you hate me.”
“Okay.”
“Even if we wake up from this.”
“Okay.” My voice breaks at the end.
With a single tug, he removes the bra and lets it fall to the side. My nipples harden, tightening into tiny buds, but it’s not because of the air. It’s due to the hungry look on his lethally attractive face.
He’s not even touching them, but it’s almost as if he is.
“Your tits are so perky and small.” His strong fingers wrap around my breast. “So perfect in my hand. I knew it.”
Still cupping my breast, his thumb and forefinger grasp my nipple and tug. I cry out, my heart squeezing in my throat.
He does it again, this time twirling, then pinching hard afterwards. The friction of his bandage against my skin adds another pleasurable sensation that shoots straight between my legs, soaking my thighs.
“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to do this? How much I’ve wanted you like this and hated myself for it? How much it fucking kills me?” As he continues to torment my nipple, his mouth latches on the other one, biting and nibbling.
My back arches off the bed with the torture. It’s as if I’m being levitated. My body isn’t mine anymore as it floats in the air without any landing in the foreseeable future.
His free hand travels down between us and undoes the buttons of my denim skirt. I don’t think as I push it down.
“Stop,” he growls against my flesh. “This is my show, my rules.”
Damn him. I’m not even allowed to do anything on my first sexual experience. But then again, why am I surprised Xander is the bossy type?
If anything, I might have secretly hoped for it. I might secretly be a bit more wet by his words.
He shoves my skirt and underwear down in one merciless tug as he pushes off me and slides down my body.
The empty air makes my breasts feel abandoned, but the look in his eyes as he watches me splayed in front of him is worth it.
He reaches behind him and pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing his sculpted abs. It’s not about being fit or muscular, it’s the charisma that he adds to it, the certain carelessness of being so deadly and mouth-watering.
Xander is the epitome of male beauty – tall, blond, hard, slightly tanned.
Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he stares straight at my pussy and I instinctively close my thighs.
“Nuh-uh.” He shakes his head, a disapproving glare on his face. “Open them wide.”
“But I can’t.”
“Yes, you can and you want to.”
“But –”
“You don’t want to?”
I bite my lower lip.
“Answer me, Green.”
I can do more than answer him when he calls me that. I can fly to the moon and carve my name in the stars like he once brought me a star – that I might still be hiding.
That name means he’s still my shield in the world and I’m still his.
I can do everything with that name.
I’m invincible with that name.
Slowly, I open my legs, facing away from him.
“What did I say about looking at me?”
I snap my attention to his and my breathing hitches. The approval in his gaze makes me want to purr like some kitten.
He inhales the air. “You’re soaked for me. I can smell it.”
God, can’t he just not have commentary. It’s turning the heat up a notch, and I don’t think I can handle it.
“Your cunt shouldn’t be soaked for me.”
“What?”
“It shouldn’t be, yet it is. Are you aroused because I ordered you, Green?”
Yes, I think so.
“Don’t answer,” he grunts. “I don’t want it to be real.”
Real?
Before I can formulate a response, he grips me by the ankles and places them over his broad shoulders, then dives in.
“Hello, sin.” The first sweep of his tongue on my folds is like straight-up torture device, the good kind, the mind-boggling kind.
He does it again, as if tasting me, savouring me, committing me to memory.
I writhe on the mattress, my hands gripping the sheet in a deadly clutch.
“You’ll kill me, Green, and I’m ready for death.” The rumble of his voice against my most intimate part makes me delirious.
He thrusts his tongue inside and I’m gone for. A strange sensation whirls through me with an alarming power. My back arches off the bed with the force of stimulation and I just fall.
I do it so easily, so gracefully, and without any restraints. While I’ve brought myself to orgasms before, none of them were this strong or ruining.
I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same after this. It’s like Xander reached inside me and flipped a switch, and now, there’s no going back.
Now, every time I think about sex, I’ll think of how he worshipped my scars, how he kissed my imperfections and called them beautiful, and how he ordered me to open my legs, just so he could worship me in a whole different way.
That brings tears to my eyes. The thought that I’ll be thinking about them while he’s not here turns me into an emotional fool.
I’m such a mess. This isn’t the moment to be crying.
“Hey.” He climbs up to crawl beside me and he does something I never thought Xander would ever do again.
He hugs me, his arm lying on the small of my back while our bodies mould together.
His thumb traces over my skin, wiping the tears. “You’re not supposed to be crying.”
“And you’re not supposed to be better than the fantasy.”
“I am, huh?” He flashes me his dimples.
“Don’t be so arrogant.”
“Arrogant is my middle name, Green. Did you forget?”
“How could I?” I return his smile, still unable to believe the fact he’s calling me Green again. That he’s holding me, wiping my tears.
If this is a dream, please end now. Don’t torture me any longer.
As an answer to my prayer, Xander brushes his nose against mine, just like when we were kids. “Maybe I should burn.”
“Burn?”
“Yeah.” His eyes close. “Because you’re worth being burned for.”
And with that, his breathing evens out. I lay my head on his shoulder and resist sleep with all my might.
I’m just going to watch him all night.
Maybe then, the dream won’t end.
Maybe then, we’ll be trapped in this moment of eternal bliss where there’s no fog and no external world.
Or that’s what I plan.
But the second he absentmindedly strokes my hair, I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve had in years.
