235: In Egon's chambers (part 3)

In Egon's chambers (part 3)

0The pull she felt towards him was a primal force, urging her to be as close to him as possible. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding instinctively to his touch and presence.2

It was as if her very survival depended on being in his arms.

What if she chose to surrender to the powerful emotions coursing through her? What if she allowed herself to fully experience the intensity of their connection?

It was a moment of vulnerability, yet it felt liberating.

As her hands moved upward, tangling in his hair, her hips tightened, and satisfaction washed over her when a shiver of passion ran through him.

He threw his head back and let out a low growl, startling her with the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Down you go," he said, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and self-restraint.

She was disappointed when he actually bent down and gently placed her back on her feet. As soon as she stood alone, he turned away from her and walked deeper into his spacious chamber, heading straight for the bed.

"Wait," she pleaded, but it was already too late.

Egon sat down on the dark covers of his bed, his posture tense and contemplative. He kept his face hidden, buried in his hands, as if grappling with some internal conflict.

"Physical acts never used to strain me... until I met you," he trailed off.

Adela's heart sank, realizing that her presence had affected him in a way she hadn't anticipated. "Are you tired because of me?" she asked softly, concerned for his well-being.

He looked up at her, sweat forming on his brow, his boyish smile there, though tinged with weariness. "Resisting you tires me, it drains me even... It makes me feel... less strong."

As she listened to him struggle to put his feelings into words, a sense of justice pushed the lustful desires in her body to the background. 

"Don't look so happy about it," he half-joked, half-seriously implored.

"It somehow balances things out between the two of us," she mused.

Feeling an urge to close the emotional gap between them. She gathered her courage and decided to walk over to him, sit beside him on the bed even, uninvited but determined to offer support. 

"We do balance each other in almost every way," he continued, seemingly unaware of her approaching. His gaze was distant, as if he was lost in his thoughts.

Feeling slightly awkward sitting next to him, she placed a hand on his face, rubbing her fingers on his soft, beardless cheek. She wanted to show him that she was here, that he wasn't alone in his struggles.

"You belong to me," she said confidently.

He closed his eyes and frowned at her words as if they held some deeper meaning that seemed to cause him inner turmoil.

"Egon?"

Not commenting on what she told him, he took her hand again, intertwining their fingers.

They sat in silence for a while, but the lack of words spoke volumes, and the connection between them felt stronger than ever.

"You shaved," she remarked, breaking the silence and trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled slightly, amused by her observation.

"I will have to get used to it," she replied with a smile of her own.

He brought their intertwined hands to his cheek, and she felt her heart flutter at the tender gesture.

"Do you like that I shaved?"

"I do," she said with a smile, feeling her heart race when he gently bit the palm of her hand.

"There is a floral taste to you. How is that possible?"

She instinctively tugged her hand back, but he seemed unfazed, refusing to let go. He started drawing her palm into his mouth and licking it.

It felt incredible, so good that she had to throw her head back and gaze up at the ceiling.

How could her own body be a place filled with so much mystery? The sensations he triggered in her, as he had mentioned earlier, seemed endless.

"What a sight your ecstasy is," he said, his voice low and filled with lust.

Adela lowered her head back so she could look at him, and he smiled at her with a wild expression.

"Just to let you know, I have you right where I want you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little perplexed.

"You appeared to be thoroughly enjoying a particular part of me earlier," he remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Adela flushed, struggling not to look down at his manhood.

Smirking, Egon reached over his head, yanking the shirt from the back and throwing it aside. His eyes turned crimson, and they were all over her. Just like hers were all over his muscular, scarred, and beautifully bronze chest.

"Why just look when you can touch?"

That startled her.

"The hour of recompense has arrived."

"Recompense?" she asked, feeling like she was missing something important.

"Your innocence is so alluring, do you know that? It makes me want to... indulge you?" He asked, his eyes suddenly on her breasts. "...It is not the only seductive thing about you," he added.

Adela was not an inexperienced young maiden who knew not what men preferred. She had heard that conversation many times before, and she knew that her humble breast size was not her most captivating feature.

She smiled at him, "Thank you for saying this,"

His eyes, almost black like onyx, bore into hers with an intensity reminiscent of a predator. Their hawk-like gaze held her captivated. Clutching her chin with his thumb and forearm, he held her in a firm grip as he prepared to share something of great significance, she steeled herself for it.

"Your breasts are perfect." 

She cast her eyes downward, feeling a surge of heat in her ears, cheeks, and neck.

"Look at me." He commanded.

As she met his intense gaze, he licked his lower lip, and his eyes began to roam all over her form.

"Your breasts are the perfect size, you have a long waistline that's significantly narrower than your hips, and your height is average for a woman, but your legs are really long…" His face darkened, "I had them wrapped around me just now..."

"Egon," she pleaded, unable to hear more and still contain herself.

"You are just my type, Adelaide," he stated firmly, a heavy dose of desire in his intense black eyes.

pqdm.com