Page 37 of Threads Of Madly Whispers

After lunch, I arranged for her to meet with Dr. Hathaway. A medical evaluation is mandatory for her caliber of dance, and given what I knew about her health, I was determined to ensure she was examined bymy trusteddoctor. While her Waardenburg Syndrome showed no immediate impairments or concerning symptoms, I needed to rule out any potential complications that might arise.

However, I was not aware that she hadn’t been touched.It’s twisted and depraved in more ways than one, but I lack the mortification to pull my thoughts from ripping into her and making her bleed. The bewilderment that flashes in her eyes is a white lie to the perverted images collecting in her head. And to her disbelief, I have been far less carnivorous. My hands itch to split her open, to pry her flesh apart and feast on her heart. To lick on her bones until all of her is buried in me and for my flesh to be marked by her blood.

I want to be woven in her veins and tangled in her limbs.

She’s naked and prying. And lord do I want to make her body shiver from my touch as she cries my name like a prayer, full of devotions.

She’s naked and prying. And I will sink my teeth in her tonight, to quell a bit of the appetency that has kept me awake.

Odessa is the mania that rakes at my sanity, a psychosis to my derangement, as her voice soothes my sins. She makes me sick with a desire, with an unhinged ferocity to possess her like a treasured gem.

Gentle breaths slip between her pinkish lips and her plump breasts move in tandem. A gleeful cast glimmers on her from the moonlight pouring through the open curtains. The room is fairly dark but the bluish grey is all the light I need to admire her. Silver hair unfurled on the pillow, arms spread to her sides and her legs open, leading to her beautiful cunt.A divine ruby.

With bloodied hands, I long to carve poems as destructive as a coriolis storm into her soul. She makes me a slave to her beauty, and on my knees she will be the muse that I play to. A woman with both hellfire at her feet and holy water in her hands, with a body moon soaked and kissed by the wild. She is warm witted with a splendor that is rooted in pain.And for that pain I hunger to shatter the world like Hera did,just for her.

My length hardens, pressing roughly against my sweatpants as I feel dribbles of pre-cum lick of the tip. I drop my hand to palm myself, the slight friction giving me little relief. The overwrought I feel to bury myself deep in her howls inside me wildly. To lick every part of her flesh and etch her taste on my tongue and inhale her seraphic scent.

The mattress dips to my weight as I move up her featherlight limbs. A true sleeping beauty and I, the fear that makes her nightmares wither to mist. I take my time to worship all her curves and dips, gently skimming my fingers over her smooth skin. She feels precious, like a fleeting whisper in the wind. Delicate and warm, as though a single touch could unravel her entirely. Every inch of her seems to tremble beneath my fingers, a fragile dance of skin and bone, easily lost to the softest of caresses, as though she could break at any moment.

Gorgeous.

My calloused hand moves to cup her warmth, andfuck, how have I not done this before. My free hand snakes around her small neck, feeling her fragility against my palm. I want to unravel her world, thread by delicate thread, until all that remains is the quiet echo of my name in her heart. To become the air she breathes, the ground beneath her feet, the pulse that guides her through the dark. I long to cradle the fragments she hides—the scars she curses in the silence of her mind—and hold them as treasures, cherishing the parts of her she cannot bear to see. I want to strip away the walls she’s built, until there is nothing left between us but the raw, unspoken truth that I am all she needs, and she is everything I desire.

My thumb gently rubs circles around her nub,eliciting a small whimper to slip past her lips. Her body burns against mine, a living flame, trembling with a wild, electric hunger that mirrors the fire beneath my skin. She thrums like a struck chord, each breath a note in the symphony of our shared longing. The air between us hums, thick with quiet desire, as if the very space is aching to collapse, to fold us into one fevered, unbroken rhythm. I push a finger inside her and her eyes open wide. The blur in them quickly fills with disarray and a flicker of arousal.

Fiery.

Her eyes, orbs that draw me into a galaxy of stars, hold my gaze, vast and unending. Silken strands of angelic hair spill over the pillow like streams of light, framing a face that is both wild and surrendered, untamed yet irrevocably mine. She looks at me with a fire that scorches and a tenderness that anchors, a perfect balance of the feral and the familiar, as if the universe itself conspired to place her here, in this moment, entirely and unquestionably mine.

She is breathtaking beneath me, a vision of grace, her body a canvas of light and shadow. Every curve, every tremble, speaks of something untamed, as if the universe sculpted her from stardust and set her here, radiant and fierce, to exist in this moment with me.

Her hands rise, gentle yet certain, to cup my face, fingertips brushing a strand of hair that has fallen across my brow. She tucks it behind my ear with a tenderness that makes my heart stutter. Her touch lingers, tracing the curve of my cheek, as if memorizing every inch of me. She pulls me closer, her eyes dark with intention, and when her lips meet mine, it’s not just a kiss—it’s a collision of worlds. The taste of her is devastatingly sweet, like a spark that ignites something primal and boundless, leaving me breathless andundone, as if the stars themselves paused to witness the gravity of this moment.

A fire builds between us with every breath, every touch. The world falls away until it’s just her—just the feel of her lips moving against mine, our hearts thundering in the same rhythm. When we finally break apart, breathless and tangled, she looks at me, her eyes full of something that shakes me to my core. Her fingers glide along my jaw, and her voice, soft and full of awe, whispers,

“You’re so beautiful.” The words settle over me, their simplicity cutting through everything, making my chest tighten with the weight of her gaze.

“And you’re mine”

I trail soft kisses down her throat, each one a promise, my lips brushing the curve of her skin with reverence. Slowly, I move lower, savoring the warmth of her, the way her breath catches with each gentle touch. The air between us is thick with something, darkly and I pause, letting the moment stretch as I meet her stare, finding both tenderness and longing in her eyes. It’s a dance, slow and deliberate, as if every inch of her deserves to be worshipped.

I push her legs further apart and she whimpers. A sound filled with desire and need. I salivate at the sight before me. She’s wet. I lean in, my lips tasting her softly, savouring her sweetness, like a madman. Her fingers weave into my hair, tugging gently and urging me closer, a silent plea that stirs something deep within me.

I gaze up at her from between her thighs, and her stormy vermilion eyes meet mine with a quiet intensity that sends a rush through me. There’s something so captivating in the way she responds, the way her body arches to my cede, eager, and yet so full of trust. Her face is flushed and her lips parted, her every movement a wordless invitation.

Her scent is innocent, a delicate mix of vanilla and honey, sweet and warm, like the softest embrace. It wafts in the air, drawing me closer with its gentle, comforting sweetness, filling the space between us with something pure and effortlessly inviting.

I lift one leg over my shoulder, closing my mouth around her and tasting her with a reverence that feels almost sacred. She tastes like the Elysian fields, like the promised land. Like a place untouched, filled with innocence and beauty. Her scent is sweet—heady, and it fills me with a desire to claim her, to be lost in her completely. The need to drown in this moment, to let every inch of her consume me. All I can think of is her… the way she moves, the way she makes me feel—like I’ve discovered something more precious than anything else in this world.

I’ve been walking this green earth, a starved and blind man.

Her breaths grow heavier, each soft sound slipping from her lips with increasing urgency as she grips my hair harder.

“Sebastian, please — I need…”

“You taste heavenly Wild Rose. Like a sweet, sweet seduction I can never get enough of. ” I pull my head up.

Her voice, breathy and dipped in arousal, flows into my ears like a melody. Her legs tremble as her back pushes off the bed. But with one hand I guide her back down, her magnificent decent mounting and like an angel fallen she shatters apart, a scream pouring past her lips. I feel like a rapaciously greedy man, a voracious predator as I relish in her taste that fills my mouth.

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