Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 30 🌶️

Marx

The room feels like it's closing in on me, a silent press of judgment for the confusion that wrecks my mind.

Damn it, I can still feel her, as real as the madness bubbling inside me. Emersyn, with her unspoken trust, her vulnerability that lures me in, pulling at a side of me I wish didn't exist. A side that wants to claim, to protect, to cherish.

I rake a hand through my hair, a vain attempt to rid myself of the images that cloud my mind, the way Emersyn looked on that counter. Her soft, pleading noises as I plunged my fingers into her wet pussy. The way her muscles clamped around me, pulling me in.

I should have stayed away, should have maintained the distance that has been my shield for so long. But the magnetic pull towards her is something I can't seem to fight, a war I'm not sure I want to win.

The memories of the kitchen scene play like a loop in my mind, stirring a hunger that threatens to overpower the caution that has been my constant companion. The taste of her skin, the sounds of her pleasure, they mingle with the darkness.

I find myself at the window, staring out into the quiet street, seeking comfort in the calmness. But the peace I seek seems a distant dream, overshadowed by the chaos Emersyn has unwittingly unleashed within me.

I know I'm stepping into dangerous territory, venturing into a world of emotions and connections that have no place in the life I've built. A life that has always been about control, about keeping the world at arm's length to protect the fragile remnants of my sanity.

But as I stand here, grappling with the storm inside me, I realize that Emersyn has become someone I can't ignore. A force that threatens to break down the walls I've built.

I don't want this. I can't have this. I can't have her.

I can feel the shift within me, a slow crumbling of the barriers that have kept me safe, kept me isolated. And as much as it terrifies me, I find myself craving the warmth, the light, the love that Emersyn offers.

Her skin was so warm, so soft against mine. The way she whimpered my name almost brought me to my knees. I would have feasted upon her like she was my last goddamn meal.

My cock is straining against my jeans painfully so.

This is what she does to me every time she is near.

I reach down, undoing my pants. I grip my cock, giving it a couple of pumps. The sheer need of her, so tight around me, the way she begged for her release, is all it takes to push me over the edge.

I feel the first few drops of cum bead up.

Emersyn's scent is still in my nose, my hair, my skin. It's a scent I'll never be able to wash away.

I continue stroking my length, imagining what it would feel like inside her tight, wet pussy. A low groan escapes my throat as I quicken my pace. The need to be inside her is so strong, my body demanding it, my mind unable to fight the attraction.

I don't want to be holding on to the window, staring out at the night as I come. I want to be holding her, burying myself inside her. I want her to scream my name.

I lean forward, my forehead resting against the cool glass. The soft thumping of a bass drum echoes from the house next door, the low rumbling vibrations shaking my bones.

I close my eyes, the scene of the kitchen fading from my mind, giving way to a new one, of Emersyn's pouty lips around my cock, sucking me into her hot, wet mouth. The thought of her, on her knees in front of me, is just what I need to bring myself closer to the edge. I'm so close now, my cock twitching in my hand.

I can feel the wetness of my own pre-come gathering at my tip, the way my balls tighten and the crown of my dick throbs as if urging me on.

I need to be inside her.

The bass drum in the house next door is silent now, the pounding of the music long gone.

The images of Emersyn are still here, though.

My muscles spasm as I come. Emersyn's face, her eyes, are the last things I see before I collapse against the glass, my arms sliding up over my head, the faint glow of the streetlamps on my skin.

I don't move for a long time.

I stand there, the night air brushing against my damp skin, a cruel mimic of her soft touch. My breaths are ragged, uneven, a physical manifestation of the chaos that reigns in my mind.

Fuck, this isn't me. This isn't who I am. I am not the guy who loses control, who gets swayed by the mere scent of a woman. But Emersyn isn't just any woman. She is a tempest of passion and innocence that threatens to topple the fortress of solitude I've painstakingly built over the years.

And it's not just her body that calls to me. It's the glimpses of her soul I've caught sight of. The sparks of laughter that light up her eyes, the depth of kindness that seems to flow effortlessly from her. The small, innocent moments we've shared, where it felt like time stood still.

It's the way her eyes speak volumes, telling tales of love, loss, and resilience. The way she smiles. The way she listens, truly listens.

She's not just a body to lust after, she's a woman to admire, to respect, to... love?

I shake my head, trying to dispel the dangerous thoughts that threaten to take root in my mind. But it's futile.

The moon casts long shadows in my room, as if mocking the darkness that threatens to engulf me, pulling me deeper into the vortex of desire and longing that Emersyn has unleashed within me. I can feel her everywhere, a persistent itch under my skin, a craving that only seems to grow with each encounter.

I can still hear her soft moans echoing in my ears, a sweet whimper of pleasure and surrender that calls me with an urgency I find hard to resist.

I find myself moving towards the bed, an entity possessed, driven by a hunger that refuses to be sated. The sheets are cold against my heated skin, a poor substitute for the warmth and softness of Emersyn. Even these thoughts have me growing hard again.

My hand finds its way to my throbbing length again, but this time, the images that flood my mind are different. It's Emersyn laughing, her eyes twinkling with mirth. It's Emersyn engrossed in a book, her face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. It's Emersyn looking at me, really looking at me, seeing past the facade, reaching into the very core of who I am. Each stroke is a reminder of what I crave, what I need, what I can't have.

I can almost taste her on my tongue, the sweet essence of her arousal. I should have tasted her. If only this one time. My mind is a battlefield, a clash of desire and restraint, a war I'm not sure I can win.

The room is silent, save for the harsh breaths that escape my lips. I feel myself teetering on the edge, a precipice of pleasure and pain.

I succumb to the inevitable, the image of Emersyn seared into my mind. Her face, her eyes, her spirit.

I want her, all of her, her passion, her fire, her vulnerability. I want to lose myself in her, to find salvation in her embrace.

But I can't. I know I can't.