Nate Part 3

"How am I supposed to get out of this?" I tease, keeping my gaze locked on that beautiful look only Little Sun has. "Don’t you think you need to do something to help me?"
"If you’re waiting for me to relieve that..." she starts to say, her voice very seductive. She pauses and licks her lower lip, then gasps in a naughty way, showcasing the shiny silver piercing on her tongue. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Natezinho. I'm not the least bit interested in your piece of shit!"
I raise my eyebrows at her boldness, trying to break free from the prison that is her perfect face. But, surrendered by the greed to dive deeper into this woman, I lean against her lips and, without any warning or permission, I give them a big lick. I gasp like a starving man facing something that could feed me for ages. I bite down on her lower lip, tugging it with a bit of force, making her let out a low sound of pleasure, almost screaming as she fights to keep it inside.
What a delicious mouth! I want to do so many things with her...
"It didn’t seem like a piece of shit when you spilled milk all over your mouth... and you drank it all up, remember?"
Smiling, I pull my hands away from that tempting body. It will never stop being fun to see Isabela’s horrified expressions every time I say some outrageous thing she wasn’t expecting to hear.
I purse my lower lips, swallowing the flood accumulating in my mouth because I’m really salivating with the urge to kiss her, to lick her all over. I’m shocked by how disappointed she looks as I distance us. I give her a slight push on the shoulders, sitting her down on the upholstered bench beneath the window.
The naughty girl is braless because the tips of her small breasts are showing through the fabric. She wants to end me! Just look at those damn breasts... They seem like an invitation for hickeys and bites.
"I remember perfectly. The taste was of... sour milk!" she contradicts, laughing victoriously and raising an eyebrow.
My amusement grows as her face turns into a mirror of hatred, challenging me. We want to devour each other, but in different ways. I want to lift her skirt, move aside the tiny string of her panties, and bury myself inside her. Meanwhile, Isabela looks at me as if she wants to tear my skin off with her teeth.
I trace the tip of my finger down her face, caressing her jaw as the sexy girl closes her eyes, trying to maintain her frown, but can’t resist the affection, tilting her head towards my hand.
I continue down my finger, carving a path down her neck, which seems like the perfect spot for a nice bite, feeling how her throat rises and falls as she swallows hard. But my fun ends when I reach the contour of her breasts because she slaps my hand away.
"I want Belladonna back, Nate!" she warns, grunting, seeming to bury the fun and focus only on the war.
"I want you to shove off, Revolta!" I retort, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows.
When I scrutinize her more closely, I see that she’s different. Starting with her clothes, which are more basic, nothing red or black. Her tiny feet are wearing flip-flops, the denim skirt is nothing flashy, except for being extremely tight and short, and just a white low-cut shirt covers her back. She doesn’t have the makeup that’s almost part of her; she’s even without the nose piercing. Her eyes look puffy, and damn, I think she’s cried a lot.
"Dude, I hate you, you know?" she says, her eyes filling with tears. "That’s enough! Give me back my damn cat!"
"I also hate you, My Sun!" I purr, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand, in a simple caress that this time, she doesn’t try to push away. But the acidity in her voice hit like a punch; it hurt. I can hate her with every cell, bone, and piece of skin on my body, but I don’t want to hear that she feels the same about me. "Just go away, Isabela! Then you can have Pretinha back."
"You..." she gulps, as if she’s really holding back tears. And damn, that makes me angrier than if she were just insulting me. How am I supposed to fight against a crying Isabela? She’s not a worthy opponent; on the contrary, it makes me feel like a coward. "Are you taking good care of her?"
And the final blow is the solitary tear that seems to fight not to escape, but rebelliously runs down her cheek for a few seconds before she wipes it away with her slender fingers.
What kind of fool am I? Why is my chest tight seeing her like this? Isabela is no fragile damsel. On the contrary, she always retaliates fiercely, like she did in the Woods days ago. Damn, seeing her cry is messing with me; my cock has even softened.
"Yeah, I’m taking good care of Belladonna," I reply, shoving my hand into the pocket of my shorts and grabbing a cigarette. I pace in front of Isabela, lighting up the smoke, glancing at her sideways. I take a drag with a lot of need, feeling a momentary relief as I inhale the smoke, exhaling it all at once through my nose. I watch her cross her arms after sniffing. "I follow the feeding schedule you sent, clean the bowl, play with the laser, and I still sleep holding her. Is that good enough for you?"
"Why all this, Nate? Why can’t you just leave me alone?"
Shit, I start to feel a warm wave right in the center of my chest, which slowly flows down to the rest of my body, taking me over completely and making me pounce at her, throwing the damn cigarette against the wall. Isabela stares at me, scared, as I push her against the window frame. Her eyes are wide open as my hands crush her cheeks. I breathe with fury, exhaling the air like a beast:
"It’s you who won’t leave me alone, never, not for a damn second. You’re in every part of this damn place, on the walls, in my drawings and dreams, multiplying like a plague inside my head," I growl, but my voice comes out choppy, weak like the little shit this girl turns me into when it comes to the feelings I still have for her, even when I try to suffocate them with hate and anger. "I’m the one without peace, Isabela. Because ever since you came back into my life, you’ve taken everything. Everything, damn it! So fuck off, swallow that damn cry, and disappear from my college!"
She shrinks away from the shout that the last sentence becomes, furrowing her brow and intensifying the damn annoying whimper. I let go of her face, and suddenly, I realize I’m scaring her. I bite down on my lip, hard, until I taste the bad flavor in my mouth, the result of the bloody liquid running over my tongue.