Chapter 97: 81.3 - SENSATION
His naked body beneath mine felt hot, firm, undeniably masculine. I touched every inch of him, every hard curve, every taut muscle, as if memorizing a map of something I had craved for an eternity. Every touch was a brutal confession, a desperate plea, a harsh reminder of my unworthiness and my searing need.
I traced the line of his jaw with my tongue, then moved lower, to his throat, his chest, my mouth demanding, tasting, claiming him. "You know," I chuckled, my breath heavy, almost a sob, "I always thought you were too good for me. Brilliant Doctor Satoko, admired by everyone, almost saintly. And me? I’m just a spoiled, messed-up brat who somehow got lucky."
He threaded his fingers into my hair, a low, guttural moan escaping his throat. "Shut up, Kairi," his voice rasped, thick with desire and distress. "Don’t talk."
I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I kept talking, pouring out all the ugly, filthy insecurities that had accumulated in my head for years. Vulgar words, raw, animalistic desires that had been suppressed for far too long, the persistent, gnawing fear that he only pitied me. This wasn’t just about sex. This was about ripping open old wounds, about purging all the personal trauma, all the deep-seated insecurities that had haunted my waking and sleeping hours. I wanted to smash through the emotional walls between us, even if it meant shattering myself in the process.
My mouth found him then, hot and demanding. I worked him with my tongue, my lips, pulling him deep into my mouth, tasting him fully, completely. He groaned, a sound that vibrated through my very bones, and I reveled in it. It was a sound of pure surrender, of unadulterated pleasure that mirrored the raging hunger inside me. I pushed deeper, greedily, wanting to consume all of him, wanting to be utterly consumed in return.
Then, he shifted, a powerful movement as he positioned himself over me. I braced, my hands gripping his hips. A different kind of gasp tore from my throat as he pressed the head of his cock against my entrance. It was thick, undeniably so, much larger than I’d subconsciously imagined. A jolt of pure shock, almost comical in its intensity amidst the chaos, shot through me. I tried to play it cool, forcing a smirk. "Well, well, Doctor. Seems you’ve been hiding some... impressive equipment under those scrubs." My voice wavered slightly, betraying my feigned nonchalance.
He didn’t reply, his gaze locked onto mine, a mix of determination and something that looked suspiciously like nervousness flickering in his dark eyes. He pressed again, slowly, and the head slid in, stretching me. A burning sensation flared, making me suck in a sharp breath. Okay, maybe "impressive" was a colossal understatement. This was monumental.
He pushed further, slowly, agonizingly, and the thick shaft filled me completely, stretching me to my absolute limit. My eyes widened involuntarily, a choked sound escaping my throat. Holy fing s**. It was so much. So incredibly much.* I tried desperately to maintain my drunken, cocky facade, that smirk still plastered on my face, but inside, my body was screaming in a dizzying mix of intense pain and overwhelming sensation.
He started to move, slowly at first, his hips grinding against mine, each inch he pushed deeper intensifying the pressure, knotting my insides. My breath hitched. He was so deep, I could feel him pressing against my cervix, a dull, insistent ache blooming in my lower abdomen. The burning intensified, now a searing heat that radiated outwards, mixed with an almost unbearable fullness. I tried to take a breath, but my lungs felt constricted, squeezed tight by the sheer invasion. I opened my mouth, a silent gasp, my chest heaving.
"Sat... Satoko," I managed to croak out, my hands tightening on his hips, my playful smirk dissolving into a mask of raw intensity and panic. The air felt thick, heavy, suffocating. I tried to inhale again, but it was a shallow, desperate gasp that did little to fill my lungs. My entire core felt stretched, overwhelmed, utterly consumed. The sheer size of him, combined with the unexpected intensity, had stolen my breath. My vision started to swim violently at the edges, bright, distorted spots dancing behind my eyelids. "F***... terlalu... dalam..." Too deep. The words tumbled out, a panicked, desperate whisper, a raw admission of my limits. The shock had finally overridden my drunken bravado, replaced by a desperate, guttural struggle for air.
He stilled instantly, his movements halting. His eyes, wide with alarm, searched mine, the raw desire in them abruptly replaced by concern. "Kairi? What’s wrong? Are you okay?"
I couldn’t answer, my chest heaving, trying to draw in a full breath, but failing. My grip on his hips tightened further, a silent, desperate plea, an animalistic clutch. The reality of what we were doing, the sheer physical magnitude of it, had finally crashed down on me, leaving me breathless, gasping, and utterly, completely vulnerable. My bravado shattered, lying in pieces around us.
Then, slowly, carefully, he began to withdraw, each agonizing inch a painful release. The pressure lessened, and I finally managed to suck in a shuddering breath, then another, and another, until the dizziness began to recede, leaving me trembling, raw, and exposed.
Then, silence.
Only the ragged, ragged sound of our breathing, slowly evening out, and the dull, persistent throb in my head that was finally starting to register. I lay beneath him, chest to chest, the comforting weight of his arm heavy and strangely reassuring across my stomach, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling of my apartment. A tidal wave of profound relief washed over me, immediately followed by a suffocating, almost unbearable regret. What had I just done? What had we just done?
Then, his arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer still, until our bodies were pressed flush against each other. I felt his breath on my neck, warm and gentle, a stark contrast to the ferocity of moments before.
"If you wake up tomorrow morning and hate me," he whispered, his voice so soft, so fragile it almost broke my heart, "I’ll leave. I promise."
I closed my eyes, feeling hot tears, unbidden, track trails down my temples. Tears that were either from raw, aching relief, crushing, agonizing regret, or a terrifying, brand-new fear that felt like it was tearing me apart.
"If I wake up tomorrow morning..." I held my breath, the words impossibly heavy, each syllable a monumental effort. "...don’t leave."
