Chapter 154 - 0154: Did You Miss Me That Much?! (r18+)

Chapter 154: Chapter 0154: Did You Miss Me That Much?! (r18+)

Elena’s Point of View

A groan clawed its way out of my throat, raw and broken, as if an entire building had collapsed on me. My body ached in places I didn’t even know could ache. My muscles burned, my skin was tender, my thighs felt heavy, like they’d been stretched and used and ruined in the best possible way.

There was something almost sacred about this kind of exhaustion, the kind that came from being taken apart and put back together by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

I’d never felt anything like it before, this strange mixture of soreness and satisfaction that made me want to simultaneously curl into myself and stretch out like a cat in sunlight.

My body felt like it had been through a war, and I’d surrendered every single battle willingly. A low, broken groan escaped my lips as I shifted, the sheets cool against my overheated skin.

My thighs pressed together, the soreness between them a delicious reminder of how thoroughly Jaxx had used me. I let my eyes stay closed a moment longer, savoring the ache, unwilling to let the morning erase what the night had carved into my body.

Some part of me wanted to hold onto this feeling forever, to bottle it up and keep it safe from the harsh light of day and all the doubts that came with it.

Last night.

The memories flooded back in fragments, each one more vivid than the last. His hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me against him, his mouth on my skin, his teeth grazing my neck, my shoulder, my breasts.

The way he’d bent me over every surface in this damn room like I was his personal playground. The floor, the kitchen counter, against the wall, the bed... each position more intense than the last, each thrust more possessive, more ruinous.

He’d taken me in every way imaginable, bending me, breaking me, owning me until I couldn’t think straight, until all I knew was him. Some distant, rational part of me whispered that I should feel used, discarded even, but instead I felt claimed, treasured in the most primal way a man could treasure a woman.

I wondered briefly what that said about me, about the woman I’d become in his arms, but the thought slipped away before I could hold onto it, chased off by the warmth still pulsing through my veins.

I remembered the way he’d pinned me against the wall, his hands gripping my wrists above my head, his cock slamming into me with a force that stole my breath. He’d whispered in my ear, his voice rough and dark, "You’re mine, Elena. Fucking mine."

The way his words had sent a shiver down my spine, the way his cock had filled me, stretched me, ruined me. I remembered thinking, even then, half-delirious with pleasure, that I didn’t want to belong to anyone else ever again.

It should have terrified me, that kind of certainty, that kind of surrender, but instead it had settled into my bones like something inevitable, something I’d been waiting for without knowing it.

I remembered the way he’d laid me down on the bed, his body covering mine, his mouth claiming mine, his tongue sweeping in to taste me, to own me. The way his hands had roamed my body, his fingers trailing over my skin, his touch burning me, marking me. The way he’d lined himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance, teasing me, tormenting me, before slamming into me with a force that made me scream.

In that moment, nothing existed outside the two of us, not the room, not the world, not even time itself. I remembered thinking that I never wanted this feeling to end, that I’d trade every certainty I’d ever had just to stay suspended in that moment with him.

I remembered the way he’d flipped me onto my stomach, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me up onto my knees, his cock slamming into me from behind, his thrusts hard, fast, brutal. His hands had slid around my waist, pulling me against him, his mouth on my neck, his teeth grazing my skin.

He’d whispered in my ear, his voice a dark growl, "Look at you, Princess. Taking my cock like a good girl." Pride and shame had tangled together inside me then, an intoxicating, confusing mix that only made me want more.

I hated how much I craved his approval, how his filthy words could make me feel more powerful and more owned at the same time.

I remembered the way he’d made me come, over and over and over, until I’d lost count, until I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could only feel. The way my body had shattered beneath him, my orgasm ripping through me like a wildfire, my pussy clenching around his cock, milking him, begging for his release.

The way I’d screamed his name, my voice raw, my nails digging into his skin as wave after wave of pleasure consumed me, ruined me, changed me. Somewhere in the chaos of it all, I’d stopped being afraid of how much I wanted him. Somewhere between the second and third time, I’d stopped keeping track of who I used to be before him.

I couldn’t even count how many times he’d made me cum. I’d lost track after the fourth one, lost track of how many times I’d screamed his name. My body still throbbed with the aftershocks, my skin still tingled where his fingers had dug in, where his teeth had marked me.

There wasn’t a single surface in this room he hadn’t used, each one a testament to the way he’d owned me, the way he’d ruined me, the way he’d made me his. I almost laughed, thinking that I’d never look at a kitchen counter the same way again. The thought alone sent a fresh flush of heat through me, absurd and thrilling in equal measure.

I groaned again, squeezing my thighs together at the heat pooling between them. My body was still throbbing, still aching, still needing. I bit my lip, refusing to open my eyes, my fingers twitching against the sheets before sliding down my stomach, seeking the heat between my thighs. I couldn’t help it.

The memory of his touch, the ghost of his cock inside me, it was all I could think about. It was all I could feel. Logic told me to get up, to shower, to pretend I hadn’t spent the night unraveling in his arms, but my body had other plans entirely.

Some quiet, mortified corner of my mind protested, insisting that this was reckless, that I was supposed to have some semblance of control left. I ignored it completely.

My clit was swollen, sensitive, the slightest touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me, making my back arch off the bed. I spread my legs wider, my hips rocking into my own touch, my breath coming in sharp gasps as I chased the ghost of last night’s pleasure.

My fingers found my folds, already wet, already needy. I circled my clit, my touch light at first, but the need was too much, the ache too deep. I pressed harder, my hips jerking up off the bed, a broken moan spilling from my lips.

God, I was so sensitive. Every touch sent electric shocks through me, every movement of my fingers sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I slipped one finger inside, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

A second joined, but I still felt empty, the emptiness gnawing at me, demanding to be filled. My other hand found my nipple, pinching, twisting, my hips rocking into my own touch as I moaned, my fingers moving faster, harder, desperate.

It was humiliating and thrilling all at once, how quickly I’d become someone who needed this, who needed him. A week ago I wouldn’t have recognized this version of myself, and yet here she was, shameless and starving.

I imagined it was his touch, his fingers inside me, his mouth on my breasts. I remembered the way he’d sucked my nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

The way he’d groaned against me, the sound deep and rough, like he was starving for me. The way his hand had kneaded my other breast, his fingers rolling my nipple between them, pinching, tugging, making me whimper.

I rubbed my clit faster, my fingers moving in tight, desperate circles, my hips rocking up to meet my touch. My breath came in sharp gasps, my body trembling, my mind spinning as I chased the pleasure, as I chased the memory of him. I added a third finger, stretching myself, filling myself, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed him.

I spread my legs wider, my knees falling open, my body completely exposed, completely his. My fingers worked frantically, my touch rough, desperate, my moans filling the room as I pleased myself, as I chased the ghost of last night’s ecstasy.

I pinched my nipple harder, my back arching off the bed, my body trembling as the pleasure built, as the need grew, as the ache deepened.

This is insane.

This is crazy.

What am I doing?

I didn’t care. I couldn’t. The need was too much, the memory of him too vivid, the ache between my thighs too deep. Whatever shame I should have felt dissolved the second I let myself remember his voice in my ear.

I rubbed my clit faster, my fingers slick with my arousal, my body trembling as the pleasure coiled tighter, hotter, more insistent. I slipped my fingers in and out of me, my touch rough, desperate, my hips rocking up to meet each thrust of my fingers.

I remembered the way he’d fucked me, the way his cock had stretched me, filled me, ruined me. The way his thrusts had been hard, fast, brutal, each one hitting deeper, harder, the angle perfect, the force unrelenting. The way he’d made me feel, the way he’d owned me, the way he’d claimed me.

I remembered the way he’d whispered in my ear, his voice a dark growl, "You’re mine, Elena. Fucking mine."

The words echoed in my mind, sending a fresh wave of arousal through me, making my pussy clench around my fingers, making me moan, making me need. I rubbed my clit faster, my fingers moving in tight, desperate circles, my hips rocking up to meet my touch, my body trembling as the pleasure built, as the need grew, as the ache deepened.

I was so close. So fucking close. I could feel it, the orgasm building inside me, the pleasure coiling tighter, hotter, more insistent. I rubbed my clit faster, my fingers slick with my arousal, my body trembling as I chased the release, as I chased the memory of him.

I pinched my nipple harder, my back arching off the bed, my body trembling as the pleasure crashed over me, as the orgasm ripped through me like a wildfire.

I screamed, my voice raw, my nails digging into the sheets as wave after wave of pleasure consumed me, ruined me, changed me. My pussy clenched around my fingers, my body trembling as the aftershocks of my orgasm coursed through me, as the pleasure echoed through my body, as the need still gnawed at me, demanding more, demanding him.

I was still lost in the ecstasy of last night, my body humming, my mind spinning, my fingers still moving between my thighs, when a low, dark chuckle cut through the silence.

"Someone woke up excited this morning."

My eyes flew open, panic crashing into me like a wave. Shit. How could I have forgotten I was with him? How could I have let myself get so lost in my own touch that I didn’t even hear him?

Embarrassment burned hot across my cheeks, spreading down my neck, but beneath it, something else stirred too, something that liked being caught. I wanted to disappear and simultaneously wanted him to keep watching, which somehow made the whole situation even more mortifying.

Last night’s memories came rushing back... his hands on me, his mouth on me, his cock inside me, over and over and over.

I looked at him, and my breath caught.

He was standing beside the bed, arms crossed, that smirk on his face as he grinned down at me. Sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric doing nothing to hide the bulge between his legs. His hair was wet and tousled, probably from a shower, water still dripping down his chest, the sunlight from the window making him look unreal, like a sinful god freshly delivered from a magazine.

I hated how easily he could undo me with nothing more than a look, how one glance from him could unravel every ounce of composure I’d tried to gather.

His eyes were dark, hungry, as they roamed over my body, taking in the sight of me, of my legs spread open, of my fingers still between my thighs. His gaze burned into me, possessive, owning, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, the embarrassment, the need, the desire, all tangled together until I couldn’t tell one from the other.

I stirred, my legs instinctively trying to close, but his voice cut through the air like a whip.

"Uh-uh, Bambina." His gaze darkened, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Keep. Them. Open."

My breath hitched, my thighs trembling as I forced myself to obey. His eyes burned into me, dark and possessive, hungry. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look at him, to meet his gaze. My pulse hammered so hard I was certain he could see it in my throat.

"Did you miss me that much, Princess?" he asked, his voice a dark purr, his thumb brushing against my bottom lip. "Couldn’t wait for me to wake up and fuck you again?"

I couldn’t answer. My voice was lost, my mind spinning, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. His thumb pressed against my lip, his eyes dark, hungry, as he looked down at me, at the mess I’d made of myself, at the way my fingers were still slick with my arousal.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough, his hand sliding down my body, his fingers trailing over my skin, his touch burning me, marking me. "Playing with yourself like a needy little slut."

His fingers found my wrist, pulling my hand away from my pussy, his eyes dark as he looked at my slick fingers, at the proof of my need, my desire. "Did you think of me, Princess? Did you remember the way I fucked you last night?"

I whimpered, my body trembling, my mind spinning. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could only feel. Feel the need, the ache, the desire. Feel the memory of him, the ghost of his touch, the echo of his cock inside me.

He brought my fingers to his mouth, his tongue swiping over them, tasting me, tasting my arousal, my need. His eyes never left mine as he sucked my fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them, his groan deep and rough as he tasted me.

"Fuck, Princess," he growled, his voice a dark promise, his hand gripping my wrist tighter as he pulled my fingers from his mouth. "You taste so fucking good."

His other hand slid down my body, his fingers trailing over my skin, his touch burning me, marking me. "But you know what tastes even better?" His fingers found my pussy, his thumb brushing against my clit, making me jerk, making me moan. "You do."

And then his mouth was on mine, his tongue sweeping in to claim me, to taste me, to own me. His kiss was rough, demanding, his teeth nipping at my lip, his hands gripping my wrists, pinning them down above my head.

"Jaxx," I gasped, my voice broken, my body trembling, my mind spinning. I tried closing my legs, the pleasure suddenly too overwhelming to bear.

"Keep them open, princess," he murmured against my lips, his voice low and unyielding. "We ain’t done playing."