:: previous –Love and Pasta
:: this story contains adult themes
Misa
My dream is coming true.
Emilian and I spill into my bedroom, kissing each other like there’s no tomorrow. Amazed by this moment, I open my eyes. His are closed, and he trips over me, losing his balance. Is he drunk? The bottle of Petite Sirah we shared couldn’t have been that strong.
I come up for air from his soft lips. “Can you see alright?” I ask, wrapped in his arms.
“Sure.” He stumbles backwards, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can see.”
What a sexy liar.
I watch him squinting hard at me. It’s not that dark in here.
“I’ll get your glasses.”
“No, Misa, it’s—”
“Nope. Protest all you want; I’m still going to get them.”
His glasses are in the living room beside the couch. I put them on. Everything is blurry, like I’m in another dimension. I take them off and find Emilian standing beside my bed with his hands in his pockets looking vulnerable as he stares at the floor.
“Here you go.” I slip the glasses on his face and kiss his smooth cheek.
We stare at each other. Half of his face is covered in darkness; the other side is lit from the gold light of my corner lamp. I run my hand through his styled dark hair as he watches me with excitement and want, just like I fantasized so many nights in this room.
“Thank you, Misa.”
He pulls me into his powerful arms for a kiss and I feel his arousal growing against me. After three glasses of wine plus his kisses and touches, I have a newfound confidence tonight.
I’m ready.
“Take it off.” I demand against his lips, already undoing the buttons of his shirt. One pops off, flying across the room. “Ah! I’m so sorry!”
Calm down, you’ll scare him.
“I don’t mind.” Emilian whispers, watching me undo the remaining buttons.
His big brown eyes are sensual and fierce. Just like in class when he shared his test with me. And the day he gave me my forever sunflower. Then earlier this evening when he was watching me cook.
I’m melting.
After the last button, Emilian frees himself from his black shirt. It falls on top of our feet.
Happy to explore, I feel his heart thump fast against my palm. His light brown chest is broad and sprinkled with thin, dark hair. He’s strong, tall and fit. Not too muscular, not too lean. I grab his belt buckle and undo it slowly. It falls to the floor with a heavy thump.
Emilian grabs my wrist, stopping me before I can get to his pants.
“I want to see you.” He says darkly, taking a seat on the edge of my bed to watch.
Butterflies come to life in my belly and my cheeks grow hot. Why did I get his glasses?
“Ahh.” I drag one strap of my dress down in front of him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I shut my eyes. “I’m s-sorry. I’m nervous.”
“Really?” He laughs softly. “You weren’t a second ago.”
“I…”
I’ve only had one boyfriend before and he was my first, everything. What if I’m not experienced enough? Ugh! Stupid lack of confidence. Just keep quiet, Misa.
Go with the flow.
Emilian senses my nervousness and smooths out my goosebump arms. “Don’t think about it.” His lips meet mine as my other dress strap slides down on its own.
“Okay.” I breathe and close my eyes. Emilian’s hands are gentle as he lowers my dress down to my ankles.
I’m standing in front of him with only my yellow G-string on. Goosebumps sprout over my arms, my legs, and my tummy as he circles me in silence. I stare straight ahead but feel his eyes dance over my body—waiting, yearning. I’m lost for words when he stops in front of me, undoing the top button of his pants, then the zipper.
Gasping, I stare at his cock peeking above the top of his black boxers. Illuminated by the light, it glistens at the tip with inky liquid, pointed up at me.
Okay, Misa. Time to be strong and brave. Reject any shyness.
I pull his cock out, gripping it tight. My hand moves on instinct. Emilian moans. A long, whispered one that sounds like he’s holding back.
Ohmygosh. Ohmygosh.
I drop to my knees, face to face with it. He’s well groomed. There are sexy veins, beauty marks, heaviness and so much length… He’s power in my hand.
Quickly, I become a woman full of lust, taking him in between my lips, just like I practiced with a banana.
“Misa…” he groans.
Even down here, Emilian’s cologne lingers with hypnotic scents of bergamot and something tropical, driving me wild.
Slow and tight, my wet hand moves up and down his shaft as the tip of my tongue traces his thick head. I cup his smooth balls in my other hand, massaging and tickling them. Emilian hisses in pleasure, pushing in deeper, growing harder inside of me.
I look up at him, moaning. He tastes and feels so good, like a silky, tropical sweet. His fingertips pierce my skull as he rides my mouth faster. We find a rhythm and it feels like he’s about to lose control.
“No…” Emilian grunts and pulls out of my mouth. “I want you.”
He leads me onto the bed.
I lay down, watching the ceiling fan spin above. My chest rises and falls like ocean waves as Emilian slides down the last piece of clothing I have on. He looks over my naked body over for a long time, letting his hands roam down my waist, over my thighs and across my legs with gentle strokes.
“Hmm.” He says with his deep, inquisitive voice.
What is he thinking about?
His face falls into my breasts, wrapping me in his arms. Snug against me, he takes a deep breath against my heart over and over.
I could rest with him like this forever.
“One sec…” He hops off the bed, emphasizing one sec by holding up one finger. “Don’t move.”
“I won’t.” I whisper, holding the blankets to my chest.
Emilian pulls a black square from his pants pocket. I hear the wrapper open and fall back onto my pillows, realizing what’s about to happen.
“Hey.” He gets back in bed, brushing loose strands of hair behind my ear.
“Hi.”
Beneath the blankets, our hands find one another, holding tight. His long legs brush against mine.
We kiss again, twisting and rolling across the bed. Before I know it, Emilian’s on top of me.
“Misa, we don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
And I know he does. Emilian’s being kind because he knows I’m nervous, which makes me want to even more.
“So do I.” He whispers, parting my legs.
His eyes never leave mine.
“Emilian…” I moan in anticipation. I’m about to lose it just from him watching me.
Bang bang bang!
We both freeze.
“What was that sound?” I ask.
“I think someone’s at your door.”
Bang!
Emilian gets out of bed.
“Stay here Misa.”
“No… where are you going?”
“To tell that motherfucker to leave.”
We both look at the clock on my nightstand.
“It’s one in the morning. Just stay here, they’ll go away.”
Bang bang bang!
Please don’t be Timothy, please.
Emilian wiggles into his pants, remaining shirtless.
“Emilian!”
“I’ll be okay. Just stay here.” He runs out.
Oh no. Oh no.
“Oh no.” I hear Emilian say from outside my room. “Fuck!”
I throw my dress on fast. “Who is it?” I tiptoe into my living room, praying it’s not Timothy.
Emilian doesn’t answer. He’s pacing and typing on his phone, muttering to himself. He looks furious. I look out the window. It’s a… woman.
She sees me and starts kicking the door, harder this time.
“Hey!” I yell.
Bang!
She kicks again, but this one makes a football size hole in my door. Emilian looks up from his phone, staring.
“My door! What the—who is she?!”
“COME OUT!”
The woman yells at the top of her lungs.
Emilian growls and opens the door. “STOP!” he yells at her. Every picture on my wall vibrates from the roar of his voice. “Do it again and I’m calling the authorities.”
“EMILIAN? Why are you in there?” she whines, her eyes searching. “This is apartment 1-3… 4, where’s his whores?” She slurs.
I peek from behind Emilian. The angry woman glares at me when I should make a face at her for ruining our damn night.
Whoever she is, she’s pretty, though. Long legs in killer stilettos, tiny waist, short dark hair, perfect breasts in her stark white fitted dress. Wait. No no no. Not again! He said he doesn’t have a girlfriend!
“You said you weren’t seeing anyone!” I yell at Emilian, trying to hold back tears.
“No, no, Misa.” He looks worried. “It’s not like that.”
“Then who is she?!”
He sighs, unable to make eye contact. “It’s… my mom.”
What? She looks young enough to be his sister!
I stare at the two of them. They have the same intense dark eyes, gorgeous brown skin and infamous scowls.
“No…” I look down at my dress in horror. It’s on backwards. Half of my breast is sticking out of the top and the bottom is hiked up, showing a significant amount of thigh. “I’m sorry. I…”
Emilian’s mom stumbles around, still glaring at me. This time with a silent, pointed finger.
“Don’t be. She’s drunk, I can smell it.” He looks lost, and I can feel his confidence fading. Maybe he’s embarrassed. Torn between having amazing sex with me and helping his mom. “Um… I have to call my dad. He’s been looking for her.”
“Oh. Will she be okay?”
“She’ll be fine.” He says without emotion, staring at her with pure hate. “Raincheck?” His eyes soften on me, full of hope. “I’ll call you later, I promise, and I will get your door fixed, of course.”
I nod.
Ugh, just go. I’m about to cry…
“I had a great time. I’m so sorry for this…” Emilian kisses my hand and holds it. He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
It’s just not the right time.
Taking his mother by the arm, I watch Emilian help her into his apartment.
My dream fades.
I almost had him…
Featured Image: Canva
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