A/N: Hello! It has admittedly been a while but I am so happy to be writing again! ALSO, this one is JUICCYYYYY
Artemisia
I kept my eyes on the waiter as he walked away from us, having taken our drink order. My heart was beating fast, but I was doing my best to ignore the nerves and anxiety crashing through my body.
Anton cleared his throat before placing a hand on mine that rested in my lap, squeezing it gently, and I looked over at him.
"Why did you wait so long to get back in touch Arté?" He rasped and I shut my eyes, taking a slow breath in as I tried to come up with a response in my head.
"I thought that the longer I left it, the easier it would be; I was telling myself that with time I would be able to get over it, and that things would be fine when we did eventually meet again."
"But obviously that isn't the case, even after five years." Anton replied and I opened my eyes to look at him; his brown eyes were so dark that searching them was like looking around a pitch black room. "You wrote me that letter with the expectation of feeling none of those things when you next saw me, but instead you feel everything for me and more." He observed
I bit the inside of my cheek, tearing my eyes away from him and looking over at the group of women chatting but staring at Anton and I. It made me feel uncomfortable, it made me feel seen, like they knew I was talking about my feelings I had for a married man with a child, who I had abandoned after he had made me so happy.
It felt fucking awful.
Anton placed a hand on my jaw gently and guided my gaze back to his. I felt vulnerable, so exposed under the light of those around us but particularly him. He could read me better than anyone, something he would always have to his advantage.
"I love you Artemisia." He murmured
"I know," I rasped
"Why do you keep pushing me away?" He sighed
"Because you have a wife, and she's given you a child." I replied, not tearing my gaze from him
"You pushed me away before Leandro ever came into the picture, so why then?" He asked and i shut my eyes as a wave of uneasiness came over me.
"Because you know me better than anyone, and for a very long time I depended on not being seen or understood by people to make life manageable. Then you came along, and you fucked it all up, and you made me irrational and emotional, I couldn't have that, not when I was doing what I did for a living." I muttered, opening my eyes and finding his brown ones, so blurred in the light.
"But look where that got you Angel," he mumbled, "look where that got us."
The waiter came over and set down our drinks, his being a scotch and mine being a glass of wine. I drew my glass to my lips and scanned the area, catching the gazes of men watching from a distance and the women had now thankfully returned to their own conversations.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I muttered, resentment laced through my tone, "I don't know why you have such a big hold over me, I don't know why I'm so torn."
"Maybe it's because, as you said, I'm the only one who can read you. But also Arté, I'm one of the very few who can understand you. Leandro doesn't get you like I do, and I'm not saying that out of a place of bias, just out of truth." Anton replied. I looked over at him, allowing my gaze to settle on the tattoos peeking out through the undone buttons of the linen shirt.
The cross tattoo that was the centrepiece of his chest was being slightly revealed and my mind immediately flashed back to the nights that I would spend tracing the artwork, with Anton explaining each one to me.
The memory had an adverse reaction on me, sending chills up my spine, because I knew better than to let myself indulge in the insanity of what once was us.
But I couldn't stop. I hadn't been able to stop for these past five years. I thought I poured my heart out to him in that letter, but over the last four years there had only been more and more for me to say to him.
I wanted to tell him that I wanted the normality he loved to speak of, with him. I wanted to tell him that I missed everything about him, his presence, smell, the feeling of his hands on my hips, his head nestled between my thighs.
I caught myself before I reminisced too much, knowing that if he wished, it would be my command, and as I looked up I realised that there was a chance it was too late for me to escape the fate Anton and I shared, but I could do my best to avoid it for as long as possible.
I stood up suddenly, and kept my gaze away from Anton's alert expression.
"It was good to see you, I'll call you tomorrow," I managed to speak as I made sure I had everything in my bag.
"Artemisia, what th--" but I started on my way out of the hotel before he could finish his sentence.
I thought I was leaving him in my wake, I couldn't hear any footsteps and the gazes of the men in the courtyard were fixed solely on me, not behind me. It wasn't the case though, because as I walked at pace through the hotel corridor my voice was called, bouncing off the walls and onto the marble floor beneath me.
The way he said my name, how rough it was, how urgent it was. There was only one other time I had heard him say it that way.
Five years ago before I ran to Sicily, after seeing Leandro's hickey on my neck, when he was filled with desperation but more importantly fear; and that was relatively minor compared to this.
And what was this?
I asked myself that as I froze for a moment. This was me running, that's how Anton would see it, and as much as I hated to say it I knew that he would be right. I didn't want to find out what happened if we crossed that line.
We'd had an amazing evening together, even if there were moments of bickering and animosity, it was all heading in one direction. I love
I wanted it, I wanted to have that with him again, but I knew that once I got a taste I wouldn't be able to get enough, and that was going to leave me in pieces because the reality was that he was married, lived in New York, had a beautiful family and was happy.
I couldn't fuck that up for him.
So, I unstuck myself from the ground and resumed walking towards the exit of the hotel, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Artemisia," he grunted, and I knew that if he wanted to he could've spun me back in his arms, but he didn't. He wanted me to stop, and it was infuriating, because for once I didn't want to give in. I didn't want to give in like I did all those times I was furious with him and he got me into bed, all those times he would leave me before Leandro existed, even then he left me feeling like a volatile mess, all those times in Madrid where he would vanish for the entire day and all it took for me to come crawling back to him was a glimpse of his million dollar smile.
I wanted him to make me.
-
Anton
History was repeating itself, Artemisia was running from me, and the rage that took over my body was all too familiar. I felt the possessive drive completely take over me, and after calling her name twice with still no result I lunged forward, grabbed her wrist and snapped her back into my body, a sharp breath emerging from her as I did so.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I muttered, looking over her shoulder as I placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing her body into mine.
"I said I would call you tomorrow," she said shakily, her head resting on my chest as her body was still in my grip.
My jaw ticked as I was reminded of Artemisia's past empty promises, or blatant lies.
"Like the time in Madrid when you kissed me goodbye and said you would be waiting for me when I got back from New York?" I said stonily, a pang of anger running through me as I relived the moment.
I felt her hands come to my stomach, but before she could push me away I held another hand to the back of my head that lay on my chest and held her there. She was trying to push me away, literally and metaphorically.
"Stop fucking running Artemisia, I can't deal with you shutting down on me Angel, not now, not anymore."
I shut my eyes as I felt her body relax in my hold slightly, and her arms wrapped around my torso as she placed her hands on the span of my shoulders.
"I'm scared," she said quietly after a long silence.
"You have nothing to be scared of," I replied, her grip on me getting stronger
"You're an awful liar," she mumbled and a small smile came to my lips, I took in the scent of her, the smell of her signature Oud perfume reminding me of so many night I had her in my arms like this, in this exact position.
"Stay with me tonight," I rasped, and internally cringed as I felt her hands drop from my shoulders and this time she manoeuvred herself out of my hold. Our eyes met and I caught myself getting lost in the amalgamation of blue, green and gold that swam around her pupils, my heart beating a little faster.
All the work I had done to get back to who I was before Artemisia had come into my life had completely gone to shit.
"We..." she wouldn't look at me, "We can't Anton."
"Bullshit," I muttered, taking a step closer. Her eyes dropped to the ground, focused on the minimising space between us.
"If we--" she cut herself off and I took the opportunity to tip her chin up, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look at me.
"If we what Artemisia." I rasped, feeling the burning take over my body, the harsh hold of my hand reminding me of all those times I'd had her beneath me, of the moments we jumped to rip each other's clothes off, of the times where I'd devoured her, of the times when she was solely mine.
"If we cross a line, we can't go back, or I can't go back. You get to fly to New York, be with your family, and I stay here dealing with the consequences."
"Yeah but I would tell you that I'll be seeing you soon, and unlike you Artemisia, I'd follow through on my word." I grunted, a feeling of desperation slowly creeping up on me.
She stood there speechless, and I took the opportunity. I grabbed her hand and began to pull her towards the lift, the one that would take us to the executive floor of the hotel that I had rented out.
"Anton," she said, almost as a warning.
I ignored her as we got to the lift and pressed the button. The doors opened and I pulled her in after me, tapping my key card against the sensor and roughly pulling her into my side.
"We won't be able to take it back," she murmured
"I don't plan on regretting it Arté," I said, turning her in my arms and making her look at herself in the mirror of the lift. I moved her hair from over her shoulder and placed a trail of light kisses onto her neck. She was responsive, her breathing unsteady immediately. "Do you?"
Her eyes met mine in the reflection, filled with conflict, but underneath her shallow facade of worry was her desire, I could see it in her body language. The way goosebumps rose on her arms as I pressed my lips to the nape of her neck, the way she had laid her head back into the crook of my neck, and the way those confusing fucking eyes kept on mine.
She grabbed my hand as the doors opened into the hotel suite, that was basically an apartment, stepping out of her heels as she pulled me close to her. "I fucking hate you sometimes," she muttered
"Nothings changed then," I grunted, noticing how all of a sudden she was frustrated, a frustration that was instantly rubbing off on me.
I had a feeling I was going to get what I had been dreaming of for five years tonight, but whether it was the sex where I made love to her over and over again was appearing to be out of the question.
I hadn't solely been dreaming of having sex with her, but it was a phenomenal added bonus.
I had a feeling that we were gonna fuck like we despised one another. Nothing had changed at all.
"I fucking hate how you can just walk back into my life," she declared as she began to undo the buttons on my shirt, the harshness telling me a side of her that hadn't appeared in five years was re-emerging.
"I fucking hate how you can just vanish from mine," I snapped, hoisting her off the floor without warning.
"I wonder why that was," she bit back and my jaw clenched as I sat her down on the kitchen island.
Our eyes met but mine darted down to her lips, it had been five years since I'd kissed her. Five fucking years I'd waited. I spread her legs, her hands landed on my bare chest as I stepped in between them, and as I moved to kiss her she swiftly turned her head and my lips landed on her cheek.
"You don't get to kiss me, not yet." She said fiercely as she turned her head back to meet mine.
"You're such a bitch sometimes," I gritted, my hands landing on her thighs underneath the fabric of her dress and gripping them harshly.
"Rich coming from you." She muttered, my eyes narrowed, she was loving this, making me suffer, and it only made me more infuriated.
"What is it gonna take to have my dick buried inside of you," I breathed as I pulled her closer to me, her breathing wavering slightly as she listened to my words. "Tell me baby,"
She didn't respond, she didn't have the words, but her hands smoothed over my chest and moved to my shoulders, peeling the linen off my body. The feeling of her finger tips running delicately across my skin sent me to another place, and I forgot how much the simplest element of her touch could drive me totally insane.
I felt my dick getting impossibly hard in my trousers and I let out a slow breath out as I shut my eyes. Artemisia noticed, and I felt her hand trail down my torso until she grazed the tip of my dick, her touch innocent on the outside, but it was far from it.
A low grunt emerged from my chest, my head dropping as my grip on her thighs got stronger.
"You know what I hate?" She rasped, bringing a hand on her thigh away from the hem of her dress and to the back, where I found a zip between my fingers.
"What Angel?" I rasped as I slowly pulled it down, watching as the fabric pulled away from her body.
"The fact that you can call me all those sweet names," she breathed as I had finished unzipping the dress, and she nudged me back, giving her room to drop from the counter and I watched as the dress fell off her body, leaving her in nothing but a thong and the gold jewellery.
"You can call me those names, and fuck with my head as soon as I hear the sound of your voice, and you can promise me that you love me, yet you'll still pick up the phone to your wife, tell her you love her, and make me fucking listen to it all, keep me next to you as you do it." Her eyes were ablaze, and painfully she took another step back. My jaw clenched, "I hate that you have the upper hand, and I let you get away with it for so long Anton, too fucking long,"
My heart was pounding in my chest, and I was finding it hard to resist taking her then and there, but I knew she had a point, what I was doing wasn't fair, but none of this was fair. Nothing we had ever shared was fair, we were always hurting one another, and our only moments of peace had come when we had finished having sex or during those days in Madrid.
But neither of those had lasted anyway.
"So, now that I got that out of the way, are you gonna fuck me? Or am I going to have to go to someone else to finish the job, Leandro's coming soon." She smirked
That, well, that set me off.
I walked towards her and within seconds I had her pushed up against the wall, her hands pinned above her head and our eyes locked. Tension thrummed through my body at the mention of his name, the thought of his hands back on her, someone who was supposed to be mine.
Artemisia was mine, and then Leandro came into the picture and fucked everything up.
"Watch your fucking mouth," I gritted
"Make me," she spat back and within seconds my lips were on her's in a harsh kiss, giving her no time to reciprocate as I pulled back, knowing that she would want more as soon as our lips met, but before she could protest I lifted her off the ground and her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist.
"Never mention his name in front of me again Artemisia, unless you want me to go and fucking kill him." I grunted, walking up the flight of stairs to the master bedroom.
"Jealous much?" she retorted, her breath fanning my ear sending goosebumps down my spine
"Not jealous, just protective of what's mine." I snapped, and I quickly landed a slap on her ass causing her to protest, but her breathing hitched in my ear and given how many times she had let a small moan escape in the past, I knew she missed the feeling of punishment.
"Possessive more like," she said brattishly, leaving me to let out a sadistic sounding chuckle.
I dropped her down onto the bed, my heart pounding and my dick throbbing at the sight of her. She was fucking beautiful, I didn't call her 'Angel' for no reason, it was a pretty accurate name for the beauty lying beneath me. But her actions were the opposite. The Angelic assassin, it never made sense, until she was in front of me like this.
"Anton," she breathed shakily, and I registered the neediness in her voice, the small shifts of her body, the slight arch of her back. She wanted this as much as I did.
I undid the buckle of my belt, trying to be slow, but my body couldn't take it. I wanted all of her, instantly. I dropped my trousers and boxers and I watched as her eyes became filled even more with desire, squirming more now in desperation of being touched.
"Baby," she whined, and I bit down on my lip hard as I took in the sight of Artemisia so desperate for me. She looked even more beautiful now than she did five years ago which seemed impossible. My hand started pumping my dick subconsciously as I watched her, and I trailed my eyes down to the white lace of her thong.
"Take it off Arté," I grunted, small waves of pleasure running through me as I pumped myself slowly. She was quick to follow my command, taking the thong off and chucking it off the bed. "Spread your legs," I ordered once more, my voice low and baritone, the sight of her then and there could've made me cum.
She let out a whine of protest, but I didn't give in to her demands, I knew what she wanted and I so desperately wanted to give it to her, but this was a sight I wanted engraved in my mind for the rest of time. Her, ready for me, the only thing she was wanting was me.
No one else.
"Anton, if you don't touch me, I'm going to have to touch myself," she breathed and a low moan emerged from me, one I had no control over her.
I hovered over her on the bed, our eyes connecting, and I guided my dick to run up her slit, an action that had us both letting out sinful noises. Her hand came to the back of my neck as my head dropped to her chest.
"Please baby," she moaned, breathless.
"You still hate me, yeah?" I rasped, looking back up at her. She was about to respond but was caught short as I pressed my tip into her entrance. Her head extended back and her back arched off the bed, her tits pressing against my chest. "Answer the question Arté," I grunted.
I don't know what answer I was expecting, but what she said next told me everything I would ever need to know about us. Gave me all the confirmation I could want to know that regardless of what was to happen in the future, we would always come back together.
"I fucking hate you, but the more I hate you the more I love you," she rasped, her eyes meeting mine, and within a split second of the words falling from her lips I had thrusted into her, up to the hilt.
A cry of pleasure left her lips as her back arched further off the bed and I slowly dragged out of her before thrusting back in again twice as hard. My hand found hers as I buried my head into the crook of her neck, ragged breathing and grunting taking over me as I got lost in the feeling of her pussy tightening around me.
"Fuck Angel, feel so fucking good," I groaned as her moans filled the room, like music to my ears. I pushed myself up and stared down at her as I continued to thrust in and out of her viciously.
"Anton," she moaned, "fuck!"
"Such a good girl Artemisia, Jesus Christ." I grunted as my movements grew in speed. A hand came to her neck, and I gently gripped it as her lips parted. "Missed having you like this, underneath me and so fucking wet."
The dirtiness of my words drew a moan from her lips, strangled and needy, and her nails dug into my back like daggers, the pain only turning me on. "Anton, baby you're gonna make me cum,"
And as soon as she said it I pulled out, admittedly having momentarily losing sight of the fact that I was supposed to be punishing her. Why? I didn't have a specific reason, maybe it was just the pain of her vanishing acts, the ones that lasted 5 days, to five weeks, to the ones that lasted five years. My obsession, my heart, my entire being wanted her to pay the price.
"I fucking hate you," she gritted as she sat up, and I flipped her body over onto her hands and knees with no warning and she let out a disgruntled sigh. "The last thing I want is for you to edge me," she spat, her head dropped down.
"Like you deserve anything better after your little tricks over the last five, no six, or even seven years. You were like this before him too Arté, you weren't a fucking saint then, and you're still not now." I grunted, gripping onto her hips hard enough that I was sure I'd leave bruises, but I didn't care. We trusted each other, I knew that much.
"You're acting like you were so innocent in all of that," she spat, but I was bored of listening to her serve me valid points, and I thrusted back into her.
"Mierda," she moaned, the sound of her Spanish sending a spark through me.
(Spanish: Shit)
I looked down and watched as my dick thrusted in and out of her, I couldn't get enough, especially when her hips started meeting mine, I let out a low groan and dipped my head down, the sound of her out of breath whining sending me to another dimension.
"Missed fucking you," I muttered, my mind flashing back to the first time we'd ever had sex, the pure desire and pent-up tension between us all coming to a head that fateful evening. I knew, as soon as it happened, that I would never be able to get this girl out of my fucking mind, and I was right. Three quarters of a decade, and all I had done these seven years was think about her.
"Anton, you feel so good," she moaned and my eyes flickered to her hand clawing at the sheets desperately followed by the feeling of her clenching around my dick, and immediately I pulled out once more.
"Do you fucking understand why I can hate you now!?" She snapped, her head turning to mine as I continued to rub my dick up and down her slit, "I'm begging you, stop teasing me, I'll do anything," she moaned
She shouldn't have said that, but I had a feeling that she was telling the truth, her words weren't just driven by sex. How? I had no idea, nothing but a gut feeling.
I wrapped an arm around her stomach and pulled her up so she was pressed against my chest, her body moulding with mine perfectly. The tip of my dick pressed against her entrance and her head rolled back onto my shoulder, I turned mine to kiss her jaw.
"Anything?" I rasped, my heart pounding, "you mean that?"
"Anything baby," she breathed, her eyes shut, "anything you want."
"You know what it does to me when you say stuff like that Artemisia, you better fucking mean it." I grunted and I felt her hands come to my thighs, and she gently manoeuvred herself onto my dick, pushing down on me. A low groan emerged from my lips as she remained speechless, her lips parting in ecstasy of the feeling.
The feeling I was giving her.
She turned her head, our lips inches apart, her eyes hazed and wild, the blue, green and gold undecipherable from one another. "I know what it does to you, and I mean it because I love you Anton."
My lips were on hers, and the kiss was all encompassing, our tongues colliding within seconds, both of us fighting for dominance. I nipped her lip causing her to let out a moan before she returned the action and pulled away, a loving look in her eyes as she slowly began to bounce on my dick.
"Fuck Angel," I groaned, letting her take over, and my hands found her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers sending her to another place.
"Anton," she moaned, her head dipping forwards, but I used one hand and tipped it back, keeping one hand on her breast whilst using the other to move her hair from her neck. My lips attached to her neck, teeth scraping the skin as my other hand returned to her breast.
"Angel, you said you would do anything." I rasped against her neck, and she let out a broken hum in agreement.
"What is it you want?" she panted, and I trailed a hand down to her clit as I felt my high slowly creeping up on me. The moan she let out as a result was so fucking beautiful I thought I wouldn't make it through my question.
"Let me cum in you," I grunted.
It was a loaded statement. It was me saying that I wanted her as mine and mine only, but also, we weren't using protection, and we both knew what was underneath it.
I wanted to get her pregnant, I wanted her to have my children. I wanted the woman I loved, the woman who had been my only real source of happiness apart from my kids, I wanted us to share something beautiful. To have a child of our own, to run from reality. To have that normality we always dwelled in.
I was expecting her to say no.
"Please," she moaned, "cum in me Anton."
Her wish was my fucking command, and I began to thrust my hips into her, meeting her in the middle as our moans got louder and my grip on her grew tighter. Her nails dug into my thighs as her head tipped to the side, and I took my opportunity to darken the patch of purple on her neck.
"Baby, I'm so close, please don't stop," she cried, her request only spurring me on. Within a moment I felt her clenching around me, hard, the feeling driving me over the edge instantly.
"Fuck Angel," I grunted into the skin of her shoulder as she moaned my name so beautifully I was convinced I would repeat it in my head for years to come. I came inside of her, my movements slowing but my grip on her only tightening, and we stayed moulded together, me still inside of her, as we lingered in the bliss of the remnants of the high.
I kissed the nape of her neck as she reached back and tangled her hands in my hair, her breathing slowing and her body relaxing.
It was incredible.
Worth the five years wait.
"I love you Artemisia," I whispered into the crook of her neck.
"I love you too Anton,"