Page 47 of Presence

He lifts my arms above my head and holds them firmly in place, his lips crashing into mine. He tastes just like the rose petal did, and I’m hit with another wave of that intoxicating high. I don’t know how it’s possible since I didn’t see him consume any petals, but I’ve long since stopped trying to make sense of anything here. This realm operates beyond conventional laws; it’s governed by intention and intuition, two forces that constantly vie for dominance.

What matters most is that I feel like this.

“Good?” he asks, his fingers tightening around my wrists.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck, I can’t take it... I’m going to c—“

Another orgasm sweeps through me before I can finish the sentence. Whatever magic those roses contain, it’s ruling my world now. My vision blurs, then darkens, and I feel like I might pass out from how good it feels. Echo’s here to hold me through it all as saliva drools out the corner of my lips, my eyes water, and my fingers try to rip his hair out.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he groans to my ear. Flicking his tongue out he starts sucking at my neck, licking off all the sweat and grazing teeth against my pulse. “Taste so good, too.”

My hips are bucking against him, making him go even deeper, giving him room to make the strokes longer. I can feel his balls clapping against my cheeks when he buries himself as far as humanly possible.

“Think you could give me one more?” he asks, his body going rigid on top of me. We’re polar opposites—me, a wet, hot jelly-like mess, whereas him, hard and rigid and more animalistic than I’ve ever seen him.

When he releases my wrists and propels himself upward, planting his hands on either side of my head, I see his eyes glinting curiously, mouth open, cheeks flushed like never. He looks drunk, like he’s high off me just as I’m high off him.

“I don’t… know,” I tell him honestly, strength leaving me. Every bit of me shakes and feels limp, tired yet buzzing with ecstasy. If I come one more time, I might just give out under all those sensations.

“Just one more,” he pleads, hot breaths leaving his mouth. “Come on my dick just one more time, Little Soul. You feel so fucking good when you do.”

Desperate, he supports himself with only one hand, lifting the other to plant it on my naked belly. He slides it down the pelvic mound and lower, finding that tight spot between us and flicking my clit.

Oh… Shit.

Even if I could muster the strength to move my tongue and tell him I can’t handle it anymore, it would be pointless. He knows exactly what I’m feeling, and I’m certain he doesn’t want to stop. He’s fully aware of the delicious despair I’m in, the deep ache that’s become my prison.

I want it to continue, but each stroke, each flick of his fingers, feels like it’s teetering on the edge of torture. Yet, among all the pain, the orgasm shines bright, visible to me like a light in a tunnel. I can see it, I can even bask in its rays. But it’s just so damn unachievable. I can’t reach it.

“Come on, baby,” Echo purrs. He keeps pumping into me, in and out relentlessly in perfect rhythm. His hips roll beautifully, so sensually that it makes my heart ache. “One more.”

I whimper, sweat coming into my eyes and mixing with the tears. My eyes hurt from rolling back so much, and my fingers stiffen around his unrippable hair. But then, when he flicks me one more time, I shatter. The light comes and devours me until I see nothing.

“Yes…” I hear Echo’s voice even though I can’t see him. Then, somehow, I just know he’s still muttering words of approval, even though I can’t really hear them. They’re drowned out by the ringing in my head.

I don’t know how much time passes as I float in a vast expanse of black water, my senses muffled, feeling almost nonexistent. But eventually, it ends, and I feel Echo release himself inside me.

When it happens, I’m almost relieved it’s over. Almost, because it might have been the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, yet it left me completely immobilized. I doubt I could have endured it even a moment longer.

“I could die happy right now,” I mumble as he pulls away and lies down next to me on the blanket, his lips shiny and his eyes sparkling.

“Oh, no way I’d let you die like this,” he says, his voice steady.

I can tell he means it. He’s totally sincere. But for some reason, the words ‘like this’ hit me hard, making my stomach tighten. Maybe it’s just the aftershocks of the orgasm, I think to myself.

Right… that’s gotta be it.

14

Shards of Glass

Did I ever mention how much I hate being in the real world? I’m pretty sure I did. Well, now I hate it ten times more. This time, unlike before, I actually forgot how it feels to be here.

Gods, this fucking sucks…

Everything hurts. And when I say everything, I mean it. The tips of my fingers, the shells of my ears, the soles of my feet—everything aches.

It’s not a good pain, either. It’s the kind of pain car accident survivors feel when the meds wear off. An overwhelming, ever-present, shitty feeling.