Page 48 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

“My heart hurts for you.” The words leave me in a whisper, carrying a sorrow I wish I could take from him. “How can I lessen the anguish?”

I press both hands over his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath my palms, as if by touch alone I could take his suffering. For a moment, the silent torment in his eyes flickers like embers waiting to catch. Then, like a storm shifting course, a smirk curves his lips, and the grief that once lingered is swallowed whole.

“I’m famished Wild Rose, be a sweet thing and let me have you once more.”

Chapter 28

Wild Rose

The Stains of Grace

Pure elixir.

An ecstasy that breaks bones just to mend them back. A brew that bubbles from the soles of your feet to the roots of your hair. My body tingles and surges with a wrathful desire to crumble apart just so he can piece my broken shards together. For the words, that graceful fall from his tongue to unearth what has turned to dust. And for his voice to be a whisper to my soul. It is maddening how I cling to his honesty, like reaching for sunlight in a room with no windows or how every small touch we share is a stitch to my heart that my mind won’t let me forget.

In a past life, I surely must have known him—or how else could I put to words these soulfully poetic strings that bind us like one. In his presence, I find myself at war with the harmony my body bends to and the uncertainty my mind conquers. A rapid of waves I’m lost at sea with.Lord Byrononce said love will find a way through paths wherewolves fear to prey, but what of ourselves? Are we not our greatest enemies when we let trepidation harbor one’s thoughts and beliefs.

And while love tastes of cherries with the scent of roses, it is not a seat by the pond. Perhaps in a different life, I could have met Sebastian in a park one autumn night like two strangers and not in a graveyard like two souls lost for one another. Yet I believe I wouldn’t quite change a thing about the paths we have crossed. And as dark and daunting as they may be, they’re ours to see through to the very end.

My skirt gathers around my waist as his hands trace a slow path up my thighs. The feel of them leaving a trail of thirsting need and fierce heat. I watch them draw nearer to my center, his long fingers skimming and gripping the porcelain flesh he seems entranced with, surely to leave bruising marks.

As the bunched-up fabric becomes a small hindrance, he rips my skirt apart, revealing the delicate lace beneath. The sudden chill that dances around my bare legs sends a shiver through me, but it is quickly whisked away by the heat of his calloused palms, which slowly and deliberately run up my thighs. Each brush is possessive and unrelenting. My hands move toward my blouse, intent on popping a button, but I’m stopped when he grasps them firmly.

“Do not,” he whispers, his voice strained, “I’ll do it myself.”

However, just like the skirt he cared too little of, my blouse is shredded off my body. And in nothing but my panties, he steps back to take me in. His darkening eyes drink in every inch of me, his tongue tracing over the seam of his lip as if he’s unraveling the very essence of my being. Each glance, filled with a quiet hunger, lingers on every curve, every subtle shift of my body, consuming me withboth tenderness and intensity. It’s as though he perceives not just what is before him, but the hidden parts within me, pulling them into the light with a gaze that feels both possessive and all-encompassing.

Perched on the top of his piano, I eagerly wait as he closes the distance between us and takes a seat on his stool, with his stare intently on mine. No words are exchanged. Not when our eyes say a thousand more than our tongues ever could.

“You’re beautiful beyond words, Odessa” he says.

His eyes are a blue galaxy I can get lost in, an ocean I wish to wander, and a cloudless sky to stare at all night. His orbs are bewitching beyond a sorcerer’s doing. They pull me into their depths like a sinking ship. But unlike the emotionless peak always swirling in them, they’re flooded with a flame I had only seen flickers of. A firestorm that shall ravage me from the inside until I’m bursting into ashes.

A nympho perhaps, maybe a slut could stick a name to the submission I am willingly giving him. My legs spread apart for his delight, my nipples hardened by merely his stare and my cunt drips with a ferocious desire to be rawly feasted by him.

“I fed you tonight, now allow me to make a meal of you.”

His words make the arousal staining between my legs worsen. A mess I’m sure he will welcome with his tongue. And so I all but graciously slide my soaked panties off my legs and before I can toss the flimsy lace, he reaches for them and places them to his nose. His eyes close briefly as he breathes my scent and then pockets them in his pants.

“Will you let me see stars, like that evening?”

“No my love, not tonight. I want those eyes on me alone.”

Sebastian gently spreads my legs further apart, lifting them over his shoulders. His hands splay on the keys of the piano as he begins playing. The way he coaxes the rhythm and melody that rises in the air around us is magically breathtaking. As the notes hit my ears, I weaken to the allure of beauty I find of his fingers dancing across the ivory keys. Tears threaten to spill from the wells in my eyes at the serenity that clouds us. Like a master that wields his instrument to heart, he plays so heavenly such that I almost see the angels falling around us.

I sink my nails into his dark, long hair, tugging him closer between my legs. And when his tongue darts to lick the seam of my folds, I fall into a transcending experience and everything around me blurs. Those tears that had stayed hidden slither down my face with bliss as I whimper out his name.

The piano is how his soul is given voice, so much is said with each key he pushes down. His emotions are spoken so fluently loud that I feel them in my heart, shaking my core and wrecking me to his accord. Shivers run down my spine and waves of desire leave a trail of warmth in their wake as he thrusts his tongue inside me.

He growls, an animalistic sound rumbling in his throat that sends a fervid pulse up my body, and behind closed lids I see stars. Thousands and billions of stars overflowing in my head. And like a true rogue, Sebastian devours me like a crazed man. His tongue uses me for my pleasure as he licks and tastes me, like glorified wine. He worships me like an answered prayer.

He bites me, soothing the pain with his tongue after. My eyes flutter open and I find his gaze locked on mine, graciously infernal.

I want thoseeyes on me alone.

My head tips back and so do my eyes— I can’t help it— rolling like a coin when I feel my peak nearing. Defiance tastes much better. My legs tremble and my body shakes. The music mingles with the loud moans unabashedly falling from my mouth.

His touch isn’t gentle, and nor is his mouth, but the words he expresses through his cadence are soft and for my ears alone. Sebastian takes his time, sucking my flesh like pomegranates, marking me with his teeth until his drawn blood. I’m a mess, and a mess he makes me.

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