Читать книгу Mirage's Revenge - Lorena Garcia - Страница 4

I woke with the light of the sun filtering through the curtains to strike my face. As I start to regain my memories from last night, I become completely aware of a comforting warmth on my chest, her hand rested on my stomach, her body was pressed to my right side, and her legs were tangled up with mine.

I looked beside us to see who moved during the night and found that we were both the culprits. Our bodies were in the exact center of the bed, the cover draped over us carelessly. Despite myself, I smiled and as she moved closer with a tired sigh, I felt a strange rush of electricity course through my veins to pool at my groin.

I knew I should move before she wakes and gets frightened again, so with a sigh and a soft kiss onto the top of her raven black hair, I stood. I fixed the covers around her and with a yawn, I stepped into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Once I had the food cooked and set on the table, I heard the familiar creak of the mattress and in half a minute later, I saw her exit the bedroom. Her hair was spilled over her shoulders, framing her face and bringing out the intensity of her diamond blue eyes. Looking at her took my breath away, her lazy smile made my heart pound forcefully against my chest.

“Good morrow, Aqulune,” she smiled, captivating me, “How was your night?”

I was going to answer her, but something caught my eyes. Her shirt was baggy and it bared one of her shoulders. Carved deep into her skin was a mark I am very familiar with. Carved into her skin was Rasputin’s mark. I felt a strange surge of jealousy course through my body along with a strong disdain towards my childhood friend. My silence caused her to look up from her plate of food and regard me with a confused and concerned look on her face.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked softly.

My brain yanked itself out of its reverie with a quick, “No, you did not, I was simply lost in thought.”

She nodded before turning back to the plate.

“My night was tranquil,” I told her, smiling when she looked at me, “How was yours?”

Her cheeks turned a beautiful pink complexion as she answered, “Impeccably calm.”

I smiled at her, watching her smile back before we both turned to our plates. After breakfast, I decided that reading would be an exemplary way of passing the time.

Books are a valuable yet limited resource, only available to Scholars. However, they have been and still are my favorite (and only) pastime in this society. There are times when I get so deeply absorbed in a good plot, that I lose track of time until I am staring at pages in the dark.

After a few pages in silence, I glance at her, checking to see if she is okay and I find her staring, not at me but, behind me at the door. I check on it, to make sure no one is there before turning back to her.

“What is it?”

She looks a bit shocked, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a worrying manner. I half expected her to turn down my offer, only she did not.

“It… The morning you found me,” she sighed.

“Yes?” I pressed softly, not wanting her to stop and yet wanting to drive it out of her mind.

“It’s just that as much as I try, I cannot remember anything before that moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“I remember escaping from… there… and running through the streets but then there is nothing. I remember nothing, then you finding me, more emptiness, and finally you.”

I could see her eyes misting over as she looked beside me, as if searching for the answer.

“Perhaps what you cannot remember is not worth remembering.” I suggested.

Her eyes snapped to me in confusion and, if I remember correctly, pain. Instead of arguing with me, as I half expected, she stood and walked towards a window. I stood as well and walked up to her, watching as the light caught on strands of her hair, giving it a warm golden glow. Her eyes searched the streets, blinking rapidly to try to drive away the tears that must have been threatening to fall. I faintly noticed that we were as close as the night before. As I pushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear, she breathed deeply, her tears falling down her cheeks.

“What if I told you that you make strange stirrings inside of me as well?” she whispered, her eyes flickering to my face, searching my eyes.

I did not answer. Instead, I used my hand that still lingered on her cheek to pull closer, as I pressed my lips onto hers in a tender kiss. I felt her hesitate slightly before reiterating, opening her mouth for me to explore. Her hands, which she had been using to hug herself defensively as she looked out the window, took hold of the front of my jacket, bringing me closer and effectively deepening the kiss.

I hooked an arm around her waist and with the other; I ran it through her hair, feeling its silky softness as it skimmed through my fingers. She gasped as I pulled her close sharply. I walked her back towards the bedroom, trailing kisses down her chin to her neck. I nudged on one of the sleeves of her shirt, exposing the soft skin of her shoulder.

I stopped in my tracks; Rasputin’s mark was staring at me, a vicious, taunting, reminder of the cruelty she suffered through. Her heavy breathing added to my concerns of continuing… Only… Her hot breath hitting my neck and her warmth against my skin made me ignore those concerns and continue.

I whispered a kiss onto her mark, smiling as a slight shiver coursed through her body. I kissed her as I slid my hands under her shirt. She trembled as my fingertips trailed up and down her skin softly. When I pulled her shirt off, I buried my face in her neck as I let my hands wander over her skin. I went slow, giving her all the chanced she could want to stop.

Her breath hit my neck as her hands moved agonizingly with the workings of unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingernails grazed my skin as she pushed my shirt and jacket off of my shoulders, sending a flood of electricity to my core. I rubbed her against my straining length and felt her nails dig into my back as her body tightened.

Our clothes felt constricting and as I, once again, tasted her lips, I unbuttoned her pants and mine. Dropping my shirt and jacket onto my shoes, I picked her up and placed her on the bed. She kicked off her pants as she moved back, her eyes never leaving mine. I crawled closer to her.

I captured her lips with mine feeling her gasp softly as I pulled her close. She smiled at me and I could feel her soft whimper and moan as I entered her softly. Her nails scraping my back had me bordering between pain and pleasure, more so on pain as I felt small droplets of blood run down. I trailed kisses onto her neck as I pulled out and thrust back in, feeling her tighten around me. I quickened the pace, and soon I had her convulsing around me before I spilled into her with a kiss.

She lied in my arms as we tried to catch our breaths, our bodies’ slick with sweat, and the sheets sticky on our skin. There was a comfortable silence between us, our hearts beating in one rhythm.

I kissed her head before I broke the silence by asking, “Do you remember how you got the marks on your stomach?”

She looked down, her fingers slightly tracing them. “I can’t,” she whispered, “They were not a part of me when I escaped.”

I took her hand, curling her fingers with mine, and I rested them both on her stomach. I then lifted her head to kiss her, pulling her closer in my arms. We laid together for the rest of the day, exploring each other’s body and our responses to each well positioned touch and kiss.