Connor
“Get your shit together, Connor,” I whisper to myself, the sound of my voice crushing the eery silence inside the chapel. I’m sitting on one of the front pews, staring at the cross over the altar as if it could provide me with the mental fortitude I need.
I’ve been sitting here for more than an hour now, but that strength I need so much is nowhere to be found. My thoughts always run back to Clarise, to the taste of her lips on mine… Jesus, just one kiss and she left me in disarray. How the hell am I supposed to be the Donovan’s adviser if one kiss is enough to leave me like this? I even skipped dinner with the Donovan’s because I wasn’t sure if I could be in the same room as her tonight.
Getting up to my feet, I run one hand through my hair and amble down the chapel aisle, making my way toward the door. Stepping outside, I lock the door behind me and start walking down the cobbled path toward the guesthouse.
Then, without even knowing why I’m doing it, I turn around and look at the Donovan mansion, a full moon glowing over its roof like a chandelier. Even though it’s already late, there are two lights still on in the Donovan house. One is on the first floor, in Jonathan’s office, and the other one is on the top floor… Clarise’s bedroom.
I stand there, impervious to the night chill, staring at that rectangle of light in the wall. I imagine her lying in bed, her silky blonde hair cascading over her pillow, a short nightgown embracing her skin…
“Get your shit together,” I repeat to myself, but the words sound too hollow for me to take myself seriously. Pursing my lips, I force myself to look away from Clarise’s window, and I go down the path once more.
Locking the door to the guest house behind me, I make a beeline toward the bedroom and get in bed as fast as I can. I throw my clothes over the chair I have in the corner, and I crash on top of the mattress wearing only my boxer briefs. Even though the night’s cold, the walls around me seem to push it away while keeping the warmth inside.
I close my eyes, trying to surrender myself to sleep, but that feels like an impossible task. My mind insists on working at full speed and, every time I look at the clock on my bedstand, one more hour seems to have passed. By the time I drift off into sleep, it’s already 1 am.
“Connor…” I hear her voice then, sweet and seductive, like honey and wine. “Connor…” It’s only a whisper, but one that shakes me to my very core. I toss and turn, dreams of Clarise tormenting me mercilessly. I wake up drenched in sweat, and the clock reads 1:47 am.
It seems that I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.
She’s like a virus, and I’ve been infected. If I’m awake, I think of her; if I’m sleep, I dream of her. How the hell am I supposed to forget about the taste of her lips when my mind is being this rebellious?
No matter what I do, images of her keep assaulting me.
And these images… they make me rock hard.
Stop, I tell myself, but it’s already too late. I’ve slid one hand down my naked chest, and now my fingers are going over the fabric of my boxer briefs, curling themselves around the thick shape straining against it. Grabbing my cock, I imagine Clarise’s small and delicate fingers around my shaft, and my blood feels as if it’s boiling.
I can’t do this, I continue to admonish myself but, at the same time, I push my boxer briefs down my legs. My cock springs free fast, and I grab it again, my grip tight and hard. Laying here, completely naked, I allow that need for Clarise’s body to wash over me. I’d give everything - everything - for her to be with me right now, laying by my side.
I want to feel her lips on mine again. I want to undress her, to peel her dress off and take my time with her underwear. I want all these things, and I want them so bad that I forget all about vows, honor, and duty. Right now, my mind is working on fumes - and they’re toxic fumes.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, slowly moving my hand up and down the length of my shaft. With each stroke, I sink lower and lower into the depths of an ocean of lust, imagining how it’d feel to have Clarise’s naked body pressed against my own. I imagine my hand going down the side of her body, feeling her perfect curves, savoring the warmness of her skin…
I’m an experienced man. I’ve fucked so many women I’ve lost count, and I’ve lived that life for so long that sex became… routine. Even though women still throw themselves at my feet, I don’t even glance at them twice. But with Clarise… Ah, fuck, it’s different with Clarise. There’s something about her that strokes my primal side. Whenever I’m close to her, I feel like a wild animal, restlessly pacing around its cage as it tries to figure out a way to break free.
Stroking myself harder now, I let all kind of dirty thoughts parade behind my shut eyelids. I think of Clarise on her knees, her parted lips reaching for my cock, her tongue brushing against my shaft… I imagine her wet, and I can’t help but wonder about how she’d taste, the wetness between her thighs against my lips…
I don’t even know if I’m awake or dreaming. All I know is that, in my mind’s eye, Clarise is right here with me. I can almost feel the warmth of her body, the beat of her heart. And, Jesus, as I imagine the tightness of her pussy around my cock… I almost lose it.
I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her so bad. I want to do it until we’re both covered in sweat, exhaustion gripping both our souls. I want to do it until both my lungs collapse, until my heart simply gives in.
And, more than just fucking her, I want to make her mine.
That final thought sends me over the edge and, before I can even prepare for it, ropes of cum shoot up from my cock. They fall on my naked chest, crisscrossing over my abs like a web. I remain still for a long moment, my chest rising and falling at a steady pace as I try to catch my breath.
What the hell am I doing? This isn’t right, I think to myself, sprawled on the bed and staring at the ceiling. I have to be strong. Or, at least, stronger than this.
Yes, I might want Clarise… But that doesn’t mean I have to succumb to this hunger inside of me. I can fight it. I will fight it.
No matter what happens, I’ll resist.