by Hera August
Buried in her neck for a quick second, the spasm of an orgasm almost overcomes her from her erupting clit, but he stills, and sinks inside her, not moving…
“You feel so good, Belle… so... pure...”
Judas, all of a sudden stills. He looks down at her like he’s a sinner who’s just entered a holy site; desecrating something so beautiful and pure, something that’s never meant to be touched by his filthy, evil hands.
“Don't,” she whispers, her fingernails scraping the side of his jaw. “Whatever you're thinking—don't."
“I’m a selfish bastard, Belle... I don’t deserve you.” Belle squirms and rises under him. “But you drive me crazy,” he whispers into the crook of her neck.
Belle is quiet, but unstill, as he kisses and sucks on the different spots of her neck. His body begins to rock in small smooth motions—so smooth, like riding against a heated slope of liquid sensation. The synergy of his movements pulls at her, making her fall in timing with his pace.
This time Judas yanks at the end of her hair making her mouth come to his, giving him a more dominant view of her. Their mouths fuse together, their bodies swinging like joint members of the same being following the beat their kisses create. The mass of sensation presses against every aching limb of her body, echoing and ricocheting off her skull like a bullet with no destination.
Judas breaks away from the private cocoon their faces and lips created and hovers over her, bringing one hand back and around her upper thigh, the other gripping the edge of the bed right above her head. The slow sinuous action of his body gasps only to restart itself in frantic drills. He pistons in and out, unrelenting, pounding into her at just the right angle that his cock is brushing ever so slightly against her clit.
“Judas.” Her nails scratch at his chest. She’s blinded by the pleasure, her face twisting and reddening, her mouth opening and closing. His name comes from some place so undiscovered inside her. Belle’s urgent call makes him wildly buck into her, plummeting in and out of her. She can feel her juices soaking him, the strength of his body staining her memory for life and her scream shreds the air around them.
Her body shakes violently under his, seizure-like, and he goes with her willingly. His face bulging and contorting, he uses the last of his strength to make her come one more time by gripping her buttocks and forcing her body to feel the full weight of his cock embedded in her as he drives into her like a mad man.
“Oh, baby…” He is coming; she can feel it, pulsating against her drenched channel. But he watches her as though too transfixed on watching her climax, like he’s addicted to the sight of her face and body as she shrinks and quivers below him.
Judas is a god who can wield her in any way he rules.
And she can only obey.
“Again,” he growls. “Come for me again.” It isn’t a request.
He catches the small flesh of her ear in between his teeth and delicately nips and strokes her with his tongue. He turns her to face him, sheltering her in between his large hands, drinking her in.
Judas makes her come twice more before he finally lets her rest. But Belle can see in his eyes, he wants, needs… more.
I’ve fallen into a dream… This can’t be real. He can’t be real…
Judas withdraws his body from her and starts to roll off her when she plants one hand on his chest. “Hey,” her smoky voice calls out, “where are you going?"
For the first time, he seems shy, ready to give her the space she needs. “I was… you need to rest."
“You’re leaving me?"
“I’m not going anywhere.” He pats his hand on the other side of the bed. “Okay?"
“No."
“No?” His smile is lopsided.
She shakes her head, skimming his shoulder with her fingers, then down his solid arm. “Don't leave me.” Her eyes are veiled by her sleep-induced state. “I want you here. Right here. You belong here. With me."
He kisses her forehead, sliding the covers that are under their bodies over them as gently as possible. Taking her into the warm space against his chest, he wraps her small body in him, his large shoulders barricading around her, dwarfing her presence so she almost seems an extended part of him.
“Sleep,” he says.
Her heart turns over. Just knowing Judas is going to keep guard and watch over her all night—it makes her physically ache. Resting her head on his chest, with his arms holding her tight, she drifts deep into the darkness that awaits her.
And for the first time, with Judas by her side, she doesn’t fear the nightmares that await her.
SOFT AND HUMMING, Belle wakes up surrounded by a quilted heat. It bleeds through her drowsy system, working at a crawl's pace, tingling and warming the crevasses and dips all over her body.
It’s still dark outside, and the side of her face is pressed flat into the pillow, the other side walled in Judas’ cheek; the plane of his cheekbone resting against her comfortably. She can’t tell if he’s awake or not, his eyes are too far up, and she’ll have to twist her head high to get a good look.
Her whole being feels weighed down, not by him, but with what she’s just been through with the fall. Her senses are on overload, sedated, but stirring on the brim of some appetite that never pauses for respite.
“You okay?" a deep, rumbling voice asks.
Her body leaps a little in place, but her head falls back into his shoulder, giving into a throaty laugh. “You need to stop doing that."
He kisses her cheek, trailing another a little farther down her jawline. “Doing what?"
Is he as aroused and hungry for her as he sounds? As she is for him? God, she moistens instantly, his lips alone stimulating parts he isn’t even near; the imprint of his kiss travels up and down her spine, spinning off in long, sharp glints down her body, then shooting back up to bounce and buzz in her breasts.
His breathing picks up just as hers does; his blatant erection pressing just above her bottom. His fingers slide down the side of her and grab at the ends of her undershirt.
“This. Goes. Now.” He makes her arms come up and wrenches it over her, throwing it somewhere behind him. “Should have ripped it off ages ago.”
Her hand comes around to shield her nakedness, but he immediately puts a stop to it, placing his strong arm fully over hers and leading it back down to her side. “You're beautiful.” Judas looks down at her, but her face is forward. “You don't hide from me. Not now. Not ever."
“Judas...” She closes her eyes. “…You don't have to say—"
“No-one tells me what to say,” he answers in a low ripple, his brow knotting at her words. “It's the truth."
“Judas.” She laughs, her chest rising, her nipples peeking out for a second beneath the sheet. “I just mean… a guy like… you must have been with more… you know… beautiful women..." When his dark look doesn’t relent, her small chuckle disintegrates somewhere low in her stomach. “Judas… let's just drop it, okay."
“No."
“Judas, please."
Moving slowly, surely, with a devilish hint in his eyes, he leans back, his mouth falling over her earlobe, his breathing bursting out and hitting her, wiping their conversation from her head. His hands find her small peaks, cupping them ever so slightly with just the edge of his palms, and the rough, callous tips of his fingers.
“You don't think you're beautiful?” he whispers erotically, his nose bends into her hair as each syllable slips out, more dangerously alluring then the next. The hotness of his mouth, coupled with his words, draws her, makes her soar above herself. He uses the flatness of his palms first, skimming the stiff points, breezing against them in a taunting way as he grinds into her from behind. “Huh?"
“J-Judas,” she stutters, grinding up against him as well, indulging in her softness against his hardness; delighting as she feels his cock turn to steel.
“You like that?” He twists her nipples slowly in between his fingers, mercilessly, his hands taking mouthfuls of her, as though loving the solid s
weet heaviness of her in his hands. He plucks at her like he’s out for revenge, while kissing a line down her neck, then back up, slowly, with each plop of his lips. With one hand he parts her thighs and moans, satisfied, like he finds her just the way he knows she will be. Wet. Quivering. Enflamed. His two fingers part her, find her clit swollen, throbbing, and nudges the flesh up and into his capable hand.
“I can't,” she groans. ” Please…"
He toys with the sensitive piece as it slips expertly in and out between his two fingers. Gentle strokes that eat away at her, has her mewling in pained pleasure. The slick movement vibrates between her legs, swelling up to her belly, her breasts, rising until she thinks she’ll choke. Then he speeds up, his hand shaking at a feral rate, the heel of his palm leaning into her.
“Oh… God… Judas…” The orgasm spins over her, twirls, forces her body to fold inside out. She can’t think, understand, all she can comprehend is Judas and what he’s doing to her. Her eyes roll back from inside her lids as she licks her parched lips. “Ah...” she sighs, leaning back, thinking she’s falling onto Judas’ shoulder, when she realizes she’s on the pillow and he is over her.
Wiping the lusty film from her eyes, taking in his face that looks like it will split into pieces, Belle feels a tickle of thrill, of impending excitement growing over her. Judas looks possessed—obsessed—with the raging need for her.
“Belle,” he grinds out, when she widens her legs, welcoming him. “No—”
“Judas.” Her throat closes off when she sees the small tinge of shame color his ravenous stare. Cupping the side of his face, she brings him closer as she rises up halfway to meet him. “I want you… I'll always want this… Always you.”
And she kisses him, pulling his lips apart with her, forcing his body and his mouth to come and sink so deep into her—there’s no way he can go back. There is no strength inside her that can tear her body away from his.
She is a part of him, and he is a part of her that can never be washed away.
His tongue digs into her mouth like a man searching, half insane by her. She can’t breathe, he’s suffocating her with his infinite amount of energy that strings her along like a helpless victim. This time he doesn’t wait for her to know, entering her, desperately milling into her body like he’ll lose her if he stops, like she will vanish. His strokes heighten but she meets him, inch for inch. Each thrust bringing them deeper, striking against them like a chord. The sensations taunt her as he goes faster, until she feels her mind sever from the rest of her; a fevering jolt rides over her as he spills his sweet nectar into her. She can barely hear herself scream over his own roaring orgasm, his cock twitching for more.
More. So much more of him.
The hot eruption inside her subsides, but she continues to scream out his name as she spasms. She is so loud. He looks down. “You’re so fucking hot when you scream, babe.”
Slowly, Judas withdraws, falls down on his back and breathes in deeply. Belle closes her eyes, trying to wipe away the residue of emotion that won’t stop rising inside her. She presses against him; her head resting in the middle of his chest, the rest of her body tangled in him, her leg over his, her torso almost over his. He squeezes his eyes shut when she rubs against his side, her wet juices sinking into him.
“Judas."
“Yeah?” He bends a little to kiss the top of her head. “You okay?"
“Yeah… A little… sore." Instead of replying, he kisses her forehead, wiping away the small waves of hair that lay there.
“Did I hurt you?"
Belle doesn’t answer him, instead she leans forward, swinging one leg over his body and straddles him. She is completely helpless as she takes in the sight of his magnificent naked body, all flushed, pumped and worn, underneath hers. They kiss and stroke one another until she wants more of him. She climbs and drapes herself gently over him and arches over to kiss him. Her breathing is lazy and staggering as she sweeps her full lips against his.
“Belle…" he moans, tortured with pleasure. She finds him hard and pulsating, his cock bobbing off his stomach. Her small fingers close around him, not even meeting halfway around his width. She begins to stroke him with tiny, short pumps, sending him crashing down a bottomless well, with no ending. She presses her head into his chest. His pelvis starts to move along with her and he stifles a groan into his mouth, as though it won’t end well if she doesn’t relieve his torture. “Belle,” he groans again, out of breath.
She wants him to take over, make her forget; make this night—the moment and feeling—the only thing that matters.
Judas grips her hips, guides them to where her fingers still encase him, and let her sink into him, get the feel of him. It isn’t long before they both begin to rotate. He watches her as the plane of her stomach rolls along with her body's movements, the sweat beads off her flesh as she rides him. His fingers dig into the cushiony flesh of her crescent hips as the friction of their bodies undulate up against each other.
Her back arches as her pelvis works him, propelling him in so deep, he is buried to the hilt, completely surrounded and lovingly wrapped up in her.
The only thing she feels and understands is… Judas.
He is already seared in her body's memory. Every part of him is permanently sewn into the fabric of her thoughts now, melding into the fire of her mind and so she feasts on the reveling sensations he and his body cause her to experience.
Because soon… they will be gone.
But not now. Right now is all either of them have, and that is all she’s going to live for. Breathe for. The rest can wait till sunrise.
They become so wrapped up in one another, their bodies their only attention, their mouths and limbs the reason for their next breath, their next thought, even before they are fully awake.
To Belle, it feels like the night has never left them. From the moment they kissed, time had frozen, time and space outside these four walls had stopped. In her mind, it’s still last night. And they still have a whole day to make themselves forget.
Nothing else matters.
He’s the only one who has ever done that to her. Made her forget.
“Judas.” She nuzzles her nose into his chest.
“Yeah?"
She smiles despite her sadness. He sounds like he’s trying not to be roused by her and he’s failing, willingly, wonderfully. But that doesn’t stop her. She needs to say this. “I just want to…” She lays back on his chest. For some reason, she can’t look at him when she tells him, “Thank you."
She hears him halt under him, even his breathing seems to die in place. “For what?"
“All my life… I didn’t know… but I was waiting for someone to understand me—get me. I thought my hiding place at home was enough, would be enough for me because I never thought there was really someone out there who could make me forget about my problems and just… want me for me." She licks her lips, tastes the flavor of his kisses that are now an immoveable part of her being. “You just… see me. And that seems to be enough for you.”
“Because it is."
“I've never felt this way before. Never. I don't need to hide anymore."
He tugs gently on the loose ends of her hair that are spread over his chest. “Never hide from me, Little Bit." Her heart kicks. He hasn’t called her ‘Little Bit’ since her first day here. Somehow… it fits right.
“Never with you, Judas.”
“TALK.”
It’s the serene calmness of Vladimir’s demand that scares Luis, terrifies him down to the very marrow of his bones. Vladimir’s glare sends out a clear warning: This meeting will not end well.
He has to think. Think fast. Vladimir, all-in-all, is a business man. He loves to bargain, loves to play with people's heads as long as he has the upper hand. He likes the idea of mixing personal involvements and business setups. Vladimir plays dirty, and if Luis wants to survive and leave this room alive, he’s going to have to do the same.
“Don’t make me wait
."
Vladimir hovers over him like a blood-thirsty Doberman. Finally deciding to sit, Vladimir takes a seat next to him, releasing some of the blocking pressure in Luis's skull. Vladimir’s black eyes are trained on him, never wavering, pinning Luis to his seat—the power of his stare emanates like steel darts, and Luis is the damn dartboard.
The cold metal of the gun reflects off the corner of Luis’s eye, magnifying the deathly presence. The gun is the only thing Luis can see now, the only thing he can feel and taste when he tries to speak. It’s pointed indirectly his way… kinda sideways.
If Vladimir decides at that moment to put him out of his misery, cut short this sadistic game, the bullet will hit him somewhere in the range between his heart and liver.
A place only death can come and cure.
Burning nausea travels through him, drenching his insides with fear, landing and festering in one and all places, leaving in its wake, violent shakes and sweats. The silence is not helping matters. It serves only to further wet the murderous appetite of the man sitting next to him as Vladimir brews in his reserved state, waiting to attack.
The time for second thoughts is over. Luis needs to act.
“Sir… please… we… I thought that...” He twists less than an inch in Vladimir’s direction. "I was just tryin’ to the do the right thing here. Please, Mr. Kulich, I beg you—”
“Beg me?” Vladimir’s voice shoots up, his dark brows curve. “You go behind my back and you have the fucking nerve to insult me in thinking you can beg for my mercy? That I would even fucking grant you it—you lying piece-of-shit." He still sounds so calm. Like today is any other day and Vladimir is talking about an order he wants Luis to carry out.
Luis commands his voice not to shake as he continues his plea, “Sir… you're right, sir. What I did was wrong. I-I was trying to do the right thing. Judas didn’t want the girl to die so I thought—”
“Tell me everything," Vladimir says, calmly.
Luis doesn’t hesitate this time. “Promise me you'll spare me."
“Wow.” Vladimir chuckles, full on, disbursing the morbid awareness that shakes between them.
