Isabela Part 3

"Go to the bathroom!" he commands, in a slow tone, not breaking his teeth apart. Why do I obey so readily when he's like this, wanting me, desperate to give me more than all this bitterness? I don't know the exact reason I follow his command, as if I'm accepting that Nate really dictates the rules of the game. And the path I take makes it clear that he will have everything he wants from me as soon as my feet head toward the bathroom.
I leave my flip-flops outside the room, along with any caution or decency. When I enter, my heart racing, my body trembling and hearing every heartbeat thumping in my chest, I lean against the long gray marble sink, nervously staring at the bathroom door. I bite my upper lip, struggling to breathe.
God! I should resist. I shouldn't let him in so easily. Why am I so dependent on him? Am I really foolish for being willing to give in? I know Nate wouldn’t do anything if I said no; he would have to let me go, but I can't dodge the absurd desire to have something from him beyond the anger, something that transcends the rage we feed, even knowing it's going to consume us more and more.
Having sex with him will be another dose of tragedy. I know he will ruin me, tear pieces of me apart because he will ignite things. I’ll nurture feelings I wish I could kill. They will grow, multiply, weaken me.
I want that bastard. And that is Nate's greatest defeat over me: the way I crave his body recklessly. And if wanting the same man I hate is a sin, I'm on the VIP list to be burned in the flames of hell.
Whenever Nate wants to play like this, cornering me between four walls and wanting my body, he will win the round. I have no resistance, and I’m ashamed of that.
When he enters the bathroom, armed only with that damned pen, my body ignites. His cock stands erect, reaching his belly almost like an arrow, making my stomach twist, warming me up. There’s a wet drop shining in a little hole at the tip of his pink head.
I'm shaking, looking foolish, and I didn’t even feel this way during my first time. I think knowing it's him, seeing him gaze at me like that, promising to destroy my entire body just with his penetrating look, makes my breasts feel heavy. Every damned hair on my body stands on end, my nipples hurt from being so hard, and I can even feel my traitorous pussy getting excited, contracting as if welcoming him even before he gets close.
As soon as he shortens the distance, intimidating me by pressing me against the sink, I collapse. It's as if my body is a furnace, and he is the fuel that feeds it, making the flames grow and crackle.
Even my breath falters as Nate uses little strength to lift me onto the sink. The cold stone is frightening, contrasting with the warm skin of my thighs. My hands falter, but I manage to use them to flatten against his rigid chest. They glide slowly, wandering over the muscles of his arms, which are just right to drive me crazy.
Nate is exhaling exaggeratedly, looking like a predator, staring at me as if I were his favorite meal. His eyes shine, fixed on my face. The steel piercing in his eyebrow captures my attention because, since the night of the initiation, I’ve hardly seen the jewel on his face. But I like it, the way it reminds me of the kid from the Den who stole my attention. His brown hair gleams with the bright light of the room, his full lips glisten because he moistened them with his tongue. There’s a small abandoned piercing hole below his lip, on the left side. His well-defined jawline, pointed chin, perfectly sized nose… He’s so hot that I can’t understand why God granted him the merit of being so flawless. It’s absurd to be so beautiful and such a bastard at the same time!
I look down at my hands flattened against his chest. I investigate each of his tattoos: the smoky heart in dark tones right in the middle of his chest; the word Destruction, which is his trademark, below his right collarbone; and many other designs, birds in flight climbing up the left side of his neck, roses and thorns descending down his shoulders, splashes of colorful ink, paintbrushes, and so many other webs of stories told through tattoos, covering both arms. Who are you now, Nate?
I gasp with the satisfaction of tracing every piece of this skin. His belly is all defined, and the small trail of hair leading down below his navel, marking the sinful path downward, makes me burn. Nate inhales my scent, leaning in to reach my neck, dragging his nose against it, sending shivers down my spine. How is it possible that I feel cold? I think it's just because I want to cover myself with this man's body.
He pulls my chin up, leaving my face motionless, forcing me to look at him. I swallow the damned tension lodged in my throat, my eyes glazed and lost in his, deaf and mute, staring at his smug smile. It seems to have doubled in size, filled with ridges in his abdomen, muscles tensed around me, so tall that I can see nothing but his body. I can almost feel the magnetic field emanating from him, pulling me in as if he were a magnet.
"Your skin is a perfect canvas. No painter in the world could transfer the true beauty of this onto a canvas!" he praises, resurrecting that damned honey in my mouth that made me fall in love with him years ago, looking at me in a very intense and seductive way, making a swarm of butterflies take flight in my stomach. He raises the pen and rubs the cap against my cheek. Every trace of the object on my skin causes combustion, making wet squirts drip from my vagina. I want to close my legs, give some relief to the terror tormenting my clitoris, but Nate is right in the middle of them, forcing them to be an invitation for his body, keeping them open. "I think, Isabela, that you take pleasure in driving me crazy! I see you around here, strutting in those clothes that show this bunch of assholes that you're the hottest one. That makes me rock hard. And it pisses me off because everyone sees the same thing I do, that you're beautiful and delicious."
I feel the rough cap sliding across my face as he bites his swollen and bruised lips suggestively. When the pen brushes against my mouth, a wave of saliva fills it.
"Nate…" I whisper, feeling the marker being pressed against my lower lips, touching the tip of my tongue.
I close my eyes, overwhelmed, my whole body in a frenzy, screaming for every cell that wants him.
"What are you doing to me?" He lowers the tip of the enchanted object to take me to the edge, increasing the desire with every movement against my skin. "If there's any way for me to go crazier, know that you are the only woman who knows how to do it."
The pen drops to the middle of my breasts, sliding boldly inside the neckline of my shirt, brushing against one of my nipples, causing friction that draws a moan from me. The sound barely escapes because Nate swallows my mouth at that exact moment.
I am slowly invaded by his tongue, struggling to keep up with his teasing and calm rhythm because I’m desperate to suck it entirely. I moan against him, resting my forearms on his neck. Our salivas merge, forming a sticky and sexy web together as I gasp for air on his lips. But he doesn’t even let me breathe, gripping my hair tightly with his free hand, roughly pulling my head so I keep kissing him, making my scalp complain.
"Don't you dare run away!" He punishes me with a bite on the mouth. "I'm starving, and the only one who can satisfy me is you!"
Damn, Nate! Why do I love you so much?
And we kiss more and more. As soon as I brush the piercing on my tongue against his lips, it's his turn to moan, and he makes me smile.