Arsen: a broken love story - Asher Mia - Страница 53
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And just like that, I know that my words are empty, my promises fickle.
I will see Arsen again.
I will…
Until I can’t anymore.
People say that if you play with fire, you’ll get burned. Well, when it comes to Arsen, I not only want to get burned? I want to be incinerated.
He’s my chance to be unguarded and content. To be wildly, incredibly, fiercely happy. With one kiss, he awoke something inside me that had laid dormant for a very long time—the will to live. And I am going to embrace it, even if it’s at the cost of my values and marriage.
Three weeks have passed since our affair began. Three weeks of living in a sullied heaven. A place where the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him are all I care about, all that makes my heart beat faster. A place where he’s my only reality. Three weeks of ignoring thoughts of Ben during the day, and avoiding his touch at night. I love him, I still do. But he’s not what I need, not what I hunger for.
Crazed, I need to be with Arsen to feel at peace, to feel calmed and centered. To feel claimed. Owned. I’m losing my mind over this man, and I can’t stop myself from letting it happen. I can’t do anything but wait and watch for the wreck to happen. And it will. It will leave me broken.
Destroyed.
In pieces.
On the rare occasions when Ben and I have dinner together, it has become extremely difficult to watch him eat, or talk to him as if everything is normal because nothing is. Sometimes, small things from the way he holds his fork or puts food in his mouth remind me of Arsen. I watch Ben’s dark hair and imagine Arsen’s blond locks in between my legs. I stare at his fingers gripping the fork and think back to the forbidden place where Arsen’s fingers were the other day. How much it hurt at first, but how good it felt when Arsen fucked me there right after.
It’s awful to sit in front of my husband and relive my day with my lover. The worst is when Ben makes love to me, and I imagine he’s Arsen.
But such is my reality. No one said cheating was pretty but hell, it’s downright disgusting.
Yet, I can’t stop myself from doing it.
Today, Ben is under the impression that I’m going shopping in the city and maybe staying to have dinner with Amy. Really, lies are so easy to tell when you don’t care anymore, or when you have lost all shame.
That is my truth.
Arsen picks me up in his white sports car from Grand Central and begins to drive seemingly to nowhere. “Where are you taking me?”
He takes my hand in his as he glances my way. “To my apartment. I feel that’s the only place where we get to be private without having to worry whether we’ll run into someone who knows us.”
“But we’re in Manhattan. I’m sure we can have privacy if we choose to.” I lean over and run my hands through his hair.
“I guess. But if I want you, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you no matter where we are.” He lets go of my hand to let his fingers roam over my exposed legs, his caressing touch warming my skin like the sun.
I smile and think of the last time I saw him.
We were at an underground nightclub. Arsen had chosen this place because we could blend in with the crowd easily and go unnoticed. The music was fast and hard, but as the crowd moved around us, bouncing and grinding, Arsen and I remained in our own little bubble. I could smell his delicious cologne and if I wanted, taste his sweat with my tongue. Arsen bent his head to rest his forehead against mine, grabbed my ass and pulled me flush against him, instantly igniting my ache for him. And like rolling waves, we danced together as one. Slowly. Sensually. Carnally.
The heat of the club, the sweat of our skin, the feel of his body so close to mine, yet not close enough, made me feel euphoric. Nothing seemed important but Arsen.
Nudging me gently, then not so gently, I started to laugh when I felt exactly what had nudged me. A smirking Arsen closed the space between our faces and kissed me open mouthed while our bodies kept writhing against each other.
I loved it.
We should have felt awkward by making out to this extent in the middle of the dance floor, but Arsen and I seemed to be in a different world where the passion that was making me incredibly wet and Arsen extremely hard, made everything trivial. I didn’t even care if pictures of this night made it on the newspaper. I was that far gone in ecstasy.
When the song changed to something even louder and faster than the one before, Arsen seemed to realize where we were. He let go of my ass, and cupped my chin in his hand while his fingers ran through my hair.
He moved his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “What is it about you that makes me fucking lose my mind?”
Before I had a chance to react, Arsen grabbed my hand and made me follow him to a dark and empty corner. By the time we made it to there, he backed me up against the wall. Arsen grabbed the hem of his shirt to wipe the perspiration off my face, revealing part of his six-pack. I wanted to lean down and trace my tongue through every ripple covered in his sweat.
After he releases his shirt, Arsen took me by surprise when he used the front of his body to pin me against the wall. He put his hands on the wall encasing my head, and then he leaned down to run his nose through my hair, my throat, behind my ear.
“The feel of you…” he whispered in my ear, “I want you so damn much. I don’t think I have ever wanted someone as much as I want you.”
It was in these moments when I was out with Arsen, so full of him, that not a thought of Ben crossed my mind. When I was able to bury my feelings for him deep in my heart and ignore the guilt festering inside me.
When I could ignore reality and pretend that Arsen was mine.
And in that moment I was drunk and high of him.
He was all I wanted.
He made me want to throw my head back and laugh.
He made me forget.
When Arsen voiced how much he wanted me, I felt powerful and inebriated with excitement. I wanted to show him how much he meant to me. He watched me closely as I lowered my eyes to where our bodies were connected, my hand coasting over the lean sides of his waist, the muscles of his chest, and his tense abdomen. Our need for each other so palpable in the air around us.
I wanted to touch him, to feel him in my hands, to make him feel as excited as he made me. I wanted him down on his knees with want. For me.
Without giving much thought to what I was about to do, I slid my fingers inside his jeans and boxer briefs until they curved over his erection.
I saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath as my hand felt how hard he was for me. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as possible, I slowly caressed his length, my thumb lightly rubbing the head of his dick.
Up and down…
Up and down…
I contracted my fingers boldly around him until I heard him hiss.
Arsen lowered his head and began whispering kisses all over my face with such tenderness it made me want to cry. It was as if he were worshiping me with his mouth and his touch. His searching lips lingered in the corners of mine, across my nose, then made their way back to my mouth. Urgently, I turned my face to kiss him, wanting his lips, his tongue, his mouth on mine, and he gave me what I wanted. He kissed me slowly, owning me by excruciating degrees, making me moan and open my mouth fully to the penetration of his tongue. Arsen led the kiss, setting the pace, not letting me pull away even when I felt overpowered by him.
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