Evelin

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He saw her with his brother, the man that she once loved.
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Swirls of emotion blinded him; he could only feel the crunching of the fallen leaves beneath his shoes and his tight grip on her arm. Was he holding her too firmly? A pang of guilt shot through the haze of fury... And devastation. He relaxed his grip, but only by a fraction. He fumed, hating himself for still caring for her and wanting to be gentle with the tiny slip of a woman. She was his weakness.

"Sascha," she pleaded to deaf ears, "Sascha, you're bruising me."

The last of her words caught his attention, and he immediately spun around to face her, causing her to bump into him, startled. The brush of the soft curve of her body branded itself against his chest. His heart leapt into his throat when he stared into her watery eyes. Her face was so innocent and open; he could see sadness flitting across her features. He had hurt her. He fisted his hand in frustration as he surveyed the rest of her. Where her purity rested in her face, her body was built like a siren. She was too damn beautiful; it made him ache with longing, and he couldn't resist stroking his fingers against her rosy cheek. Bitter words escaped his lips, "Oh? But my brother wasn't hurting you?"

Her lips trembled, the tears threatening to spill, "Sascha—"

"You still love him, don't you?" he sneered, but his heart crumbled at the mere thought—she was his now!—and he continued his tirade, "You still want to be in his loving arms, huh? Because he's so much more gentle than I am, isn't that right? Because he's so kind and handsome and smart, right?"

Her small hand cupped his face, and he fought the urge to nuzzle against her touch.

"Sascha," she breathed out, both knowing that she was about to apologize.

But he was done with her excuses.

His lips crashed down on hers, swallowing her words. Gone were his restraints and patient touches; he plundered her sweet mouth, destroying the months of his practiced tenderness. She tasted of apples and honey and heaven. He took all of her unapologetically, his tongue exploring the wonder that was her. She melted into his arms, no longer resisting his charms. She sighed, entangling her hands into his hair as a way to anchor herself to him.

She was shy with inexperience, but she didn't hesitate to react to the fire that he stoked inside her.

She was so sweet. Too sweet. Her acceptance of his roughness felled him. He was lost and so so so confused, drowning in his emotions. Brusque words brushed against the shell of her ear, "Are you upset that a man you'd never want makes you react like that?"

"No, Sascha. No," she breathed.

Anger clouded his judgement, his thoughts racing to the scene before. What a liar! He saw her—saw her in the embrace of her brother! He saw them smile at each other like conspiring lovers. He saw them!

Maybe that's why she was acquiescing to him so readily now with those honeyed kisses and delicate smiles; she was trying to protect his brother. She was trying to hide what she was doing behind his back. He was never her first choice. Or any choice now that he contemplated it some. A sharp pain burst through his chest.

It was an act. All of it was an act. From her heaving chests to her shining eyes to her labored breaths. She looked wanton, like a woman thoroughly kissed who craved something much more. But God, wasn't she just breathtaking even pretending? Another stab in his chest.

"You lie," he murmured like the lover that he'll never be, words sharp like the knife that dug into his gut when he witnessed the two of them.

He pinned her against the wall, uncaring of the brisk wind. Uncaring of the possibility of someone walking by. Uncaring of anything but his heart.

"You likened me to a beast when we first met," one hand holding her arms above her head, the other slowly undoing the buttons of her frilly jacket. Their hearts raced in tandem. His fingers traced the outline of the gentle swells of her bosom maddeningly, and she moaned helplessly, "How does it feel to finally be taken by one?"

She arched into him, wriggling closer to his caress.

"Stop moving," a harsh whisper, but she knew that she was safe in his arms. Her heart clenched at the wildness and the rage and the vulnerability and the despair that flitted across his face. What she had in front of her was a man who was irrevocably in love with her. Tears filled her eyes. She adored him. His brother had congratulated her just moments before, both of them pleased with her relationship with Sascha.

An ugly downturn of his sensual mouth, "Crying won't stop me."

Don't stop, never stop. But when his calloused palm met her sensitive flesh, she couldn't even voice her thoughts. He dipped his head to attend to each of her aching breasts. His tongue licked and nibbled and stroked until the peaks of her breasts puckered and begged for more of his lavish attention. The coarseness of his hand trailed downwards, expectation and heat flared through her. Moisture pooled. Her eyes closed, and she moaned softly.

That stilled the questing hand and a dark chuckle followed, "Look at me. Look at the man you don't love and watch him pleasure you."

His caresses became more possessive and sure. Her gaze locked with silver eyes. His tongue flicked out, rewarding her.

He couldn't hold the stare of hers; he knew that the adoration on her face wasn't for him. She was dreaming of his brother with her eyes open probably. She was a witch after all. Who else could tempt him like her? The front of his jeans tightened as his fingers rubbed against damp material.

"Little one," he exhaled in surprise, triumph also coloring his voice, "You're wet for me, a man you don't love."

He reveled in her slickness. He knelt in front of her.

She couldn't even refute his claim, too lost in her pleasure, too lost in his seduction.

"Is this what you want?" he sneered; his eyes wide in wonderment, betraying his hope, "A gentle man who can take care of you? You want a submissive man that'll kneel for you? Pleasure you?"

His fingers worked within her, but not touching the spot that she craved. She knew it. He knew it.

"Sascha," she begged.

"Yes," he agreed mildly, while his fingers trailed wicked little designs against her wetness, "That's my name."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please stop torturing me," she mewled, feeling his digits finally moving inside of her. His lips sought out her clit before they suckled her to mindlessness.

He inhaled a scent unique to her. She was lovely, every part of her. She was exquisite. And tonight, she'll be his. Forever.

He rubbed his whiskers against her sensitive flesh, adding more beautiful friction, eliciting music to his ears. Then he felt it. He began to saw his fingers into her, delving deeper and deeper, making sure to linger his caresses against that one spot. More notes of passion escaped her parted lips. His cock twitched, the front of his jeans feeling even more uncomfortable. It took all of his willpower to not strip and pound like an animal into her.

"Come for me, little one," he breathed against her clit, quickening his fingers, "Come now."

His teeth replaced his breath. And she exploded at the sensation, at his command. Her eyes rolled back, her once massaging fingers now clenching his scalp, willing him to stay in place. He didn't mind. He lapped her up, tasting her sweetness, his eyes glued to the thrashing of her head against the wall. This time his heart swelled. I did this.

She weakly tugged at his hair.

He obeyed.

He fed her her essence. She moaned and readily accepting the taste of herself. Nothing made him burn with desire than her eagerness. His hips grinded against hers, denim causing delicious contact. His eyes rolled back before he reluctantly pulled back. She whimpered in protest, but sighed when probing fingers found her again. She was gorgeous when she came; he wanted to see it happen again—on his cock.

He smirked. It took no time to feel moisture.

"Is this how you like it," his words graveled from his passion, "Rough and against the wall? With your arms pinned? Fucking in an alleyway where anyone could see you?"

And he could have sworn that she clenched against his fingers.

"Oh?" he withdrew his digits to tease her, causing her hips to buck at the loss, "You like dirty talk, huh? You know that gentleman of yours is too above that, right? You do know that he'll never fill your pussy like how my cock will?"

She moaned at his foreshadowing, but he continued his assault of his words and his fingers until her legs wobbled and she was gripping his biceps to remain upright, "You think he'll lick your clit the way you like?"

He trailed wet kisses against her neck before grazing his teeth against her earlobe, "Your body responds perfectly to me, kitten. I'll pound into you like an animal until you can't feel, can't even think about anything except for me. And there's nothing for you to do but scream out my name as you come around my cock."

With that, he tore off his jeans and entered her.

"Kiss me," a demand.

She met him halfway and kissed him for all that she was worth and it stole his breath away. His heart hammered as he began to thrust into her. He circled his hips to tease her clit. Hers urged him to quicken his languid thrusts. He raised his head, amused, "You think to command me?"

He punctured each of his word with a sensual roll of his hips, instilling the point that he was very much in charge of their mutual pleasure.

"Sascha."

He froze when she squeezed him. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead, trying to refrain from slamming into her and losing his seed all too quickly. God, nothing felt this good, nothing. But he still painstakingly and slowly removed himself out to the crown before slowly plunging into her heat.

"Sascha," her nails scored his back, her pussy still squeezing his cock gloriously.

His deep thrusts never faltered.

Her heels dug into the back of his thighs, her hips rocking impatiently, demanding him to hurry; every stroke was delicious, sending a bolt of blinding sensation through her, and she just wanted—needed—more. She panted, "Sascha. I love you."

That was his undoing.

He roared and hammered into her frantically, each thrust a brand of his ownership, each causing her stomach to knot tighter and tighter. He knew, hazily in the back of his mind, that there was no going back from this. That he'll be wanting this for the rest of his life. He suckled on her neck, desperate to mark her as his. His heart soared. She said that she loved him. There was nothing more beautiful that those words echoing over the joining of their flesh.

"Sascha," she moaned, "Sascha, oh, Sascha."

That was her only signal. She spasmed powerfully against him, seeing nothing but stars. He thrust even harder, milking her orgasm, prolonging her enjoyment. His grip on her bruising as he shouted, hotness spilling into her womb.

She spattered kisses along his jaw, weakly wrapping her hands around his shoulders. He dropped his head down onto her neck, stopping the tenderness that she displayed. He clung onto her, still pumping in and out.

"Did you hear me?" she asked gently once her own breathing slowed, his shallow thrusts coming to an end, "I love you, Sascha."

"Words of passion," he dismissed airily, but wanting nothing more than for her words to be true. He avoided her gaze, more interested in the mark on her throat. His.

"It's always been you," she hummed, basking in the afterglow, bringing his face to meet hers. Their foreheads touched, and she promised, "It's always been you, Sascha."

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4 Comments
hindsight2020hindsight2020over 8 years ago
Very nice.

The reader is pushed into filling in the blanks with imagination! Excellent!

kjohns2001kjohns2001over 8 years ago
Not enough information on what's going on to fully understand........

There is simply too much going on that is not in the story to let me fully understand what is happening in this story. Did he rape her? Did his brother? Is he married to her, or is his brother? Or maybe one of them was, but not now? This slice of life also comes across as a slice out of a story. There just needs to be some context to fit this into to let the reader understand what's going on. If that was there then this bit would be a well written highly emotional and effective focal point, but as it stands it just leaves me confused.

AnonymousAnonymousover 8 years ago

Bros before Hoes.

bythewxbythewxover 8 years ago

Thoroughly enjoyable (though an editor is needed). More would be appreciated!

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