THE SENSE OF DENIAL

I will explore him till I discover what is pulling us together in this way, whether it is lust or some other kind of fuck. He cannot be a stranger and radiate a contradictory emotion, or perhaps it's the fire growing between us that is playing havoc with my head.


"I will be forced to believe that you want more than just a bath if you continue to devour me in this manner." I jolt myself up from the seat in response to what he says.

Oh, fuck these obnoxious, tight muscles! Are they really getting worse by the second?

Once more, I'm in his arms as a result of my stumble and him playing the caring guy. The heat is already rising as I scour his eyes for the source of this scorching fire but am unsuccessful. It's impossible to read this look, and I abhor it.


"And you are not doing the same?" I discharge the voice from my lungs and mumble something akin to a faint whisper.

"I am only returning the favor, baby." He seductively whispers into my ear.


"And what exactly do you think I want? What do my eyes indicate I desire?" I challenge the beast, ratcheting up the fire in his sparkling eyes.

He peers at me for a minute, presumably appreciating the rattling of my lips, the jiggling of my frail body, and the desperate longing in my feeble gaze.

"You won't be offended, right?" He warns.

"No. Be sincere like I was with you." I murmur, harking back to the day he granted me the pleasure of reading through his bottomless eyes.

"You need something to get rid of the hurt and anguish you're trying to conceal." Straightforward and sincere, he says.

"What then do you think I need?" While our eyes are still locked, I ask. I can't really tell when we last blinked. Our eyes seem to be engaged in a heated dialogue of their own.

"I had hoped the city tour would be helpful, but it wasn't." He states.

At this point, his left arm moves to the right side of my face, and he runs his fingers slowly and tenderly down from my temple, leaving hot traces on their way down. His exploration ends at my chin, where his thumb is resting on my supple bottom lip and gingerly fondling it. Even as I open my mouth to speak, he continues to work his magic.

"What else, teacher Damian Almenda, do you think your student needs to get rid of this purported pain and sadness?"

Between this heat, his magical touch, his strong pheromones, and my lack of breath, it's quite a hustle to produce any sound, but I am glad he is this close to reading my lips.

"Why don't we find that out right now, my student?" He softly roars with raspy and erratic breathing.

We both can feel the pounding of our hearts on each other's chests. Similar to how I'm certain my own eyes are doing, his are glowing darker with lust.

My eyes automatically close to savour this feeling.

"How?" I mumble, our entire bodies coaxing us to give in to our deepest desires with the gentle smooch of our lips.

''In the bathtub.''

He murmurs, picking me up in his arms, and almost sprints up the stairs. I seductively lick the bottom of one of his ears and caress the perpendicular jawlines on either side of him as we ascend.

I adore the prickly feeling this sin that is beckoning us is giving me right now.

"Hurry up, baby, please." I stutter like a desperate, sexy, thirsty b*tch.

"Mmh. You are being naughty!" He says this as he bangs a certain door open.

I don't bother peeling my eyes since they are filled with this scorching fire that is making them too heavy to function. They are heavily pregnant with lust—lust for the stranger.

"No, baby. I'm horny." I murmur as I move to kiss him, but he jerks his head back, and my lips only touch his chiseled jaw. Nevertheless, I kiss him, albeit with disappointment.

I find myself fixated on those alluringly moist, pink lips, longing to feel their softness beneath mine. The anticipation builds within me, a restless ache growing stronger with each passing moment. How much longer will he withhold the sweet satisfaction of indulging in that tantalizing sensation? I want to taste them. I want to chew them.

And him? He wouldn't be retaining this if he did not want it. He would have pushed me away already and not stood here devoring me with his eyes. But why is he just standing and watching us get burned by this fire without doing anything? Why can't he do anything?

As I stare, captivated by the curve of these lips, a deep sense of longing washes over me, accompanied by a profound feeling of disappointment. It is as if my desire is met with a stubborn resistance, a refusal to grant me the pleasure I so desperately crave. My heart sinks with each passing second, weighed down by the realization that my hopes may remain unfulfilled because I am afraid of taking the first step.

But the desire is so strong. So dominating. And it keeps budding and building with every passing second as our eyes delve deeper into each other, conveying a message that only they understand. Or maybe we understand too; I honestly understand what is happening here. We are in heat. We are aroused. We lusted. I need him in the same way he is craving me right now.

It is wrong, but so strong—irresistible. And it is not forbidden. As far as I know, I don't have a man to call my own, and he? He hasn't talked of a girlfriend.

I reach for his lips, but he leans aside, my desperate lips landing only on his jaw.

I curse inwardly!

I can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his reluctance to reciprocate my desires. Our desires, because I know he feels this too. It is a bittersweet mixture of longing and disappointment, leaving me torn between the overwhelming desire for intimacy and the crushing disappointment of rejection. How much longer will this silent dance of longing and denial continue? How long can he stand this?