hell or flying | Chaelisa

Chapter 20

The rich color of her eyes darkened with lust. The way she struggled against my hands, squirming to get hers out of the hold to touch me. Or the way she tremored when she was close to her climax, my tongue pushing her over the edge. My fingers tangling in her hair as I pulled her closer when I kissed her. Her hands cupping my cheeks as she mumbled against my lips when they crashed together.

All of it, I remembered so clearly. Not just the physical things, but the way all of it felt, too. It was like one of those groundbreaking moments that just etch their way into your memory and stays there permanently.

I remembered the way butterflies caused an irrefutable ruckus in my chest when I felt her close. That despite being so angry at her at that moment, I couldn't let go. How every inch of me screamed to feel her, and how my skin begged to feel hers. I remembered the way my heart rate didn't slow down the entire time, instead only picked up its pace whenever my fingers dug into her flesh. And I remembered that despite her feelings for me long gone, mine only intensified as I watched her come undone before my eyes.

Everything I felt was so intense. So much so, that I found it painful, especially when panic overtook me each time I would think about what I've truly done. We fought, she said some hurtful things and so did I. I pushed her as tears streamed down my cheeks, yet I pushed through into her apartment.

She mocked me, degraded me, insulted me. I couldn't take it anymore. Couldn't take her hurtful words, let her insult the people I cared about the most. The ones I told her about when I shared my most vulnerable part with her. Yet, knowing how hard it was for me, she used it against me.

I slapped her. For the first time, I got physical. Not just with her, but with anyone. It was the first time I retreated to violence. My palm stung as it landed on her cheek, with a sharp sound resounding through the loft, leaving a red imprint on the flesh. I could see the anger rising in her, the hatred burning in her eyes, as she clenched her jaw hard, resisting the temptation of hitting me back.

The second it happened, a part of me regretted it, but I pushed it aside. However, the more time has passed, the bigger the regret became, and I made a point to apologize to her for it later, even though she had it coming for what she has said.

And yet, despite the anger, despite the fact that I slapped her, she kissed me. She surprised me, and she kissed me. Out of nowhere. Out of rage. Maybe out of loathing. Perhaps as payback. I wasn't sure. But she kissed me, and I could feel the venom on her lips as they slammed against mine.

I pushed her away. As soon as it happened, without hesitation, I pushed her back, angering her even more. And she just stood there, her shoulder rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath among both rage and what I assumed to be adrenaline, as she panted heavily. But she just stood there, watching me, anticipating my next move.

And then suddenly, not even knowing where it came from, I kissed her. I pushed her up against the door as I devoured her lips, my own anger taking over me with the aggressive way I was kissing her lips. With the way my teeth sunk in the supple flesh, eliciting more than just moans of pleasure, but also hisses of pain. And for whatever reason, that made me like it even more.

I tried to convince myself that I was just deprived of control, that I wanted to get back at her, hurt her even. But one doesn't do that by making them orgasm all over their tongue. Not only that, but I couldn't pretend like that sweet feeling of finally feeling her again wasn't there. Not necessarily the sex, but just being able to be so close to her. Being able to kiss her again, to feel her against me and mingle my breath with hers. I couldn't deny that the same butterflies in my stomach and the fluttering of my heart weren't there as our lips connected, even if the kiss was anything but tender.