I wanted her
1136 Words
~William ~
I stood outside her door for a long minute, staring at the tray in my hands.
A glass of milk and a plate of those cookies she liked.
My father had noticed she barely touched her dinner, and in his usual "everyone must be happy and i should bond more with my Step-sister we are family now” discussion.
He had suggested I take something up to her.
I should have told him no. I should have handed the tray to a maid.
But instead, here I was, with my heart doing a slow, heavy throb against my ribs
I pushed the door open quietly.
The room was dim, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the curtains. I walked over to the nightstand to set the tray down, but my eyes drifted to her.
Isabel was fast asleep, her dark hair fanned out across the white silk pillow like a crown of shadows.
She looked so peaceful, her breathing was deep and even, her face also softened by sleep.
In the office and while awake, she was a fireball all sharp words and stubborn glares.
But now in front of me? She looked like a baby. She looked innocent.
And god, she was beautiful. My eyes started tracing the soft curve of her jaw, the way her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheeks, and finally, her lips.
Those lush, pink lips that had been haunting my every waking thought since the first kiss.
"Bel?" I whispered her name like a secret on my tongue.
She stirred, her eyes fluttered open.
But they were glassy, heavy with sleep, and for a second, she just stared at me. I expected her to jump up, to tell me to get out, to be the Isabel I knew.
But she didn't. Instead, a small, sleepy smile touched her mouth.
"William," she breathed out my name, her voice was raspy, a low sound that sent a jolt of heat straight to my gut.
"You're here."
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
She looked at me with so much devotion, like I was the only person in the world she wanted to see. She reached up, her fingers trembled as she began to trace the lines of my face.
She touched my eyes, the bridge of my nose, and ran her thumb along the edge of my jaw. She was looking at me like I was perfection itself, and the way she touched me made me feel like I was burning alive.
When her thumb finally grazed my lower lip, her own mouth parted slightly.
She let out a soft, tortured moan that broke the last of my resolve.
I was trying so hard to be in control and remember that she was the daughter of a gold digging mom, but the way she was looking at me was stripping every layer of defense I had.
"Isabel, you're dreaming," I managed to say, my voice sounding like gravel.
"You're so handsome," she whispered.
She hooked her hand behind my neck and dragged me down.
When our lips met, it wasn't like our last kiss. It was soft, lingering, and desperately passionate. I groaned into her mouth, a sound of pure torture, because I knew I should stop.
I knew this was the line I could never cross again.
But her tongue swept against mine, tasting of the sweet seafood she'd had at dinner earlier, and I was lost.
My hands were already clenched into fists at my sides, every muscle in my body vibrating with the effort of not grabbing her, not taking everything she was offering.
I was a Sterling fgs! I was supposed to be in control. But Isabel didn't want me in control.
Instead She did the unthinkable.
She reached down, her small hands catching mine and pulling them under the heavy duvet. I felt the heat of her skin, the friction of the sheets, and then I felt her guide my hand down.
My breath hitched as she dragged my palm past the curve of her waist, down her thigh, until I was touching her clean shaved Intimate part.
She wasn't wearing anything underneath that short gown.
The shock hit me like a physical blow, but the feel of her so incredibly soft and already slick with heat drove every logical thought from my brain.
She pushed my hand higher, her body arching into my touch, another moan vibrating against my lips.
My fingers touched her c**t, She was so wet, so ready for me, and the realization that she’d been lying here dreaming of me, wanting me this badly, snapped the last of my restraint.
I broke the kiss just enough to look at her. Her eyes were hazy still, her cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful pink.
"William," she whimpered, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Please."
I didn't need to be told twice, I wanted to end her agonising torture. I let my fingers move, finding the center of her heat.
I dip one finger in thrusting slowly, she felt so tight and warm that i couldn't help but let out a tortured groan: She was killing me. And I loved it.
I keep thrusting my finger adding another one and increasing the speed of my thrusts, Her juices spilling down my palms.
She let out a sharp jagged gasp, her head falling back into the pillow as I kept the momentum. The friction, the sound of her breath catching, the way her body trembled under my hand—it was more addictive than any drug.
I watched her face,her features pinched with pleasure, and I knew right then that I was never going to be able to go back to hating her.
The tension in her body built and growing, her grip on my shoulders tightening until her knuckles were white.
She was calling my name, a frantic, desperate prayer, until finally, she shattered.
Her body convulsed under my hand, the sound of her release muffled against the crook of my neck.
I stayed there for a long time after, my hand still resting inside her, my heart hammering so hard.
She was drifting back into a deeper sleep now, with her body heavy and relaxed, a look of total peace on her face.
I pulled my hand back, tucking the blanket around her as if nothing had happened.
My mind was screaming at me, telling me I had just destroyed everything, that I was a monster for touching her while she was half-asleep.
But as I stood up and looked at her one last time, I knew the truth.
Everything had changed. And as I walked back to my own room in the dark, silent mansion, I realized just how badly my body ached for her.
I just wanted her.
- Writer
