Page 107 of Seizing Control: Part One

“You’ll hate me.”

Pulling her so she’s sitting astride my lap, I grip the nape of her neck and bring her forehead to mine. This has been our safe harbour, our way of connecting since the first time we kissed. The bittersweet memories of all the times I’ve held her like this destroy my soul as I make one last confession before I let her go.

“Will never hate you—even though I know it’d spare us both the pain that’s comin’ our way.”

The temper she denied me earlier finally appears. “Again, with the riddles.”

“The riddles give you plausible deniability, sweet thing.”

I expect her to storm away.

To bang on the door and demand to be let out.

Once again, I underestimate her devotion to me.

Rather than leave, Lily takes hold of the green jumper and t-shirt I’m wearing and tugs them up. I lift my arms so she can strip them over my head. She stands, then pulls me with her. Dropping to her knees, she yanks my sweatpants off, and knocks me back into the chair. My dick stands tall and proud, relishing her attention. Hard as steel. Ready for her. Determined to savour his time with his favourite girl.

Lily slides her palms along my thighs.

She takes my length in her grip.

Works me up and down.

Cups my balls and squeezes just enough.

“Sweet thing. Fuck.”

Bobbing her head over my cock, Lily sucks hard and flicks her tongue against the sensitive under head. When she goes down again, I hit the back of her throat, and the sound of her gagging makes me hiss. Hand on the back of her head, I hold her down there until she swallows, then I reward her by crooning, “Metukà shelì… Jesus. Your mouth.”

My sweet thing teases and taunts.

Takes me shallow and then deep.

Brings me to detonation point, then backs off.

Over and over, she works me with her mouth and her hands, setting a steady rhythm that I’m forced to override when my need for her hits hyperdrive. As I reach the edge again, I catch her under the arms and haul her onto my lap. The lace panties are no challenge—I tear them from her body with one harsh yank.

Spreading my thighs, I widen Lily’s stance, then I steady my cock with one hand while I urge her to take a seat. Metukà shelì lowers herself slowly, bouncing as she works me inside her. I live for the initial stretch of her tight pussy, the feel of my cock opening up her warmth to accommodate my length.

It’s my favourite part of sex—that first surge inside her.

Making Lily mine.

Once I’m fully seated in her body, I’m a man possessed. Caught between the memories choking me and the raw reality of the prolonged separation ahead of us, I grip her waist to hold her over me, then I unleash every emotion I’m feeling.

Her tits bounce and sway.

I weigh them in my palms, then tease her nipples with my thumbs.

The feel of her smooth skin drives me insane. I’m frantic with the need to touch every part of her one last time. Exploring the peaks and valleys of the body that I know better than my own, I commit her form to memory. Her beautiful curves. Slender limbs. Pink nipples. Sharp collar bones. Lightly tanned skin. The pale places that never see sunlight.

When Lily throws her head back and moans, I’m done for.

Six months with nothing but my hand for comfort is a long time.

It has nothing on the two years I went after she kissed me as an almost sixteen-year-old.

And that will feel like the blink of an eye as I wait to claim her again once I’m resurrected as Lazarus.

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