Page 34 of Unleash Hades
I grabbed the fabric of her shirt and pulled it to me. We blindly threw our arms around each other, as her sigh turned into a whimper, which I swallowed in my mouth.
No more words. No more spying.
I had been away from her too long to bother with niceties. I plunged my tongue in deep to taste her lips, her tongue, her teeth. My hunger had made her even sweeter. But not like the damning, crass flavor of sugar that soured the teeth.
She was sweet like a peach warmed by a yellow sun, with the scent of a flower that blooms for the first time in spring. She was hot like the first sip of tea, and I needed to burn in that fire.
I was ready to consume her here.
But then her palms flattened on my chest, and she pushed me away, separating our mouths with a loud smacking sound.
“I can’t see you, Hugo. I need to know it’s you.” Her voice was that familiar whisper again.
The same one she had used a decade ago, when we had made love in my barracks room in Afghanistan. The journalist, sneaking into my quarters for a cheap thrill that turned into something so much more.
We had almost lost our lives, and she needed comfort.
I had comforted her three times that night, her body begging me for more. Another three, the sleepless night after. Then a third night, where I let her speak into my chest as she unburdened the things that weighed down her heart.
I didn’t need to say much. My fingers did the speaking, as they stroked her skin, coaxing more words, more stories… more pain from her mouth. I had unlocked her, and with each confession, I fell a little bit more into her depths.
The adrenaline of death and sex, the taste of cheap wine on our lips, and the knowledge that a rocket could land on us at any moment spiked us into a fevered lovemaking that haunted me even now.
The thrill had never lessened over time.
“You know it’s me,” I whispered, as I tried to take her lips again.
I fleetingly wished that I was clean, and not covered in my own blood and sweat. My Goddess, who smelled like summer sweet berries should only be touched with clean and worshiping hands.
But, at the same time, I was selfish and greedy. I would take her as I could - covered in dirt, blood, dust and sweat.
“No.” Her fingers covered my lips, silencing me.
I took the pad of her index finger in my teeth, nibbling on it because I had never tasted anything as good as her on my lips. I was starving for her.
“Prove to me that it’s you,” she demanded.
“You don’t recognize my voice?” I asked in the darkness.
Of course she didn’t recognize it. My own closest friends may not recognize me from voice alone since it was seldom used.
Well, except for Rose. But in my heart, I wanted Calissandra to be the woman who could know me, and feel me. That she would know me by the sheer electricity in the air. By aura, or by spirit… as ridiculous as all that was.
“Why can’t we turn the light on?” Her fingers lightly traced my chest hair.
I had seen her so often over the years. I had watched her from the shadows with the obsession of an addict. So to have her in darkness was right. She lived in the light, and I brought her into my blackness - into my Hell.
“Because it’s a janitor’s closet,” I explained.
She laughed, even though I hadn't made a joke.
I adored the sound of it.
“There you are.” She laughed, and I could hear the warmth in her voice. “Hugo. I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Will my tongue help you believe?” I pushed her against a wall - the bare one I had seen before I turned the lights out on myself to wait for her in the dark.
I was always in the dark, waiting for her summer light.
