Page 114 of Eternal

DAMIR

“ColorBlind” by Counting Crows

Present

S he loves music.

I never really understood why she always played the same song over and over. But she does, and I let her. I like it when she hums along, it’s quiet and calm, it sounds soft, like she’s healing, or at least pretending to.

Not that I know what kind of healing she’s going through. I wish I did. I wish I knew how to help. I wish I understood why she clings to these old songs like it’s her last piece of oxygen.

Like if she lets go, she’ll drown.

The funny thing is, the music’s good. Really good.

Colorblind plays through the old TV’s busted speakers, the sound warps a little every time the volume dips, like it’s gasping.

She leans into it, eyes closed, mouth on mine. Soft. Sensual. Perfect. And for a moment, she’s somewhere else. And she’s taking me with her.

Somewhere safer. Somewhere I’ll never be able to follow entirely.

Her fingers clenched in my shirt. Her tongue dances with mine. And my hands slipped under hers, no bra. Only her, in that thin tee, warm and soft. I groaned quietly against her lips.

She smirked. “You okay there?”

“I just remembered,” I murmured against her jaw, “I can finally touch you however the fuck I want.”

Her lips curved, eyes half-lidded. “Round two?”

“Three,” I corrected, hands already on her thighs. “Or four. Whatever round it is. I need more.”

She laughed giddy, breathy and tugged her shirt off over her head like she’d done it for the hundredth time in front of me. Confident. Casual. Sexy as hell.

And I… stared.

The scars, the ink, the bruises that hadn’t yet faded, all of it.

I picked her up toward the kitchen, stupidly smiling.

She blinked at me, “Seriously? The kitchen?”

I smirked, pressing between her legs, my hands already roaming. “Why not?”

She glanced down at herself, wearing only my oversized shirt, no bra, no panties and she shrugged. “You’re lucky I didn’t put pants on.”

I leaned in, mouth brushing her jaw. “So fucking lucky…”

She squinted at me with mock suspicion, but her legs tightened around my hips.

“Manhandling me now?” she murmured.

“Turning you on?” I shot back, head tilted toward her face.

Her eyes narrowed, but a smile played on her lips. “No...”

I slid my tongue over her neck and smiled back. “You’re such a dirty little liar. Then why’s my arm soaked?”

She paused as I put her on the counter.

The silence cracked her, and she huffed a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Why do I kind of like knowing that?”

I kissed the corner of her mouth, a slow smile stretching across my face. “Because you’re like me.”

She stared at me, then snorted. “Nasty?”

“Hungry,” I corrected, my lips at her ear now. “And you’re still leaking on my arm, partner. You're gonna make me beg, or feed me?”

She tilted her head, deadpan. “You’re tiring.”

“I’m starving .”

She gave me that smile that meant trouble. “Get yourself your meal then.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her properly, one brow raised. “The sweetest dessert.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, shoving at my chest. “You’re so stupid.”

“But you’re still spread open on my counter,” I whispered, kissing her collarbone now. “So, either stop me… or let me keep being stupid.”

She sucked in a breath, her voice lower now, rougher. “Don’t stop.”

“Didn’t plan to.”

She didn’t cover herself. She let me look.

I kissed her stomach, her ribs, the inside of her thigh. Her skin. Everywhere. She shivered under my mouth.

I looked up, catching her eye, my voice rough. “You’re so beautiful.”

She just pulled my hair so I could kiss her again.

Her hands were on my jaw now, guiding my mouth up her body. She was smiling, genuinely, dangerously. “You’re really going to make a mess on this counter?” she whispered, wrapping her legs tighter around me.

I grinned into her skin. “You’re the one who’s gonna mess it out, actually.”

She actually laughed, loud and real, and then she tilted her head back, eyes closed. “Don’t make it sweet. Just make it good.”

I gripped her thighs, bit gently at her hip. “Anything for you.”

Her breath hitched as I lowered my mouth again, this time without teasing.

She was already trembling when I kissed her inner thigh, and her hands slid into my hair like she owned me. Maybe she did.

“Told you I was hungry,” I murmured, dragging my tongue along her skin without giving her what she wanted just yet.

She let out a half-groan, half-laugh. “You’re talking too much. More tongue, Damir…”

“I’m working,” I said, then sucked a bruise into the top of her thigh.

She tugged my hair. “Work faster.”

I looked up at her from between her legs, lips curled. “Bossy.”

“Hungry too, apparently.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice rough. “ Apparently. ”

When I finally tasted her, she gasped so sharply it echoed off the kitchen tiles. Her thighs jerked around me, and I held her steady, one arm wrapped around her waist pushing her lower stomach, the other pinning her open.

Her nails scraped my scalp, and I moaned into her, drunk on her, messy with it already.

“Fuck,” she breathed out. “Okay, okay, maybe you’re right, you can talk more.”

I pulled back for a second, “Say it louder.”

She glared down at me, face flushed. “You’re such a whore.”

I grinned, lips wet. “Only for you, partner .”

She was laughing again, short and breathless, the sound catching in her throat when I slid two fingers inside her and sucked hard.

“Oh my god— fuck ,” she stuttered.

“You like that?” I asked, voice low and smug.

She bit her bottom lip, nodded. “Shut up and don’t stop.”

So I didn’t.

My fingers curled deeper inside her, faster now. She bounced on the counter, wild and messy hair all over, cheeks burning red, skin slick and raw under my touch. The roughness made her gasp, sharp and ragged.

I slapped her cunt again, wet and loud, smack after smack echoing off the kitchen walls.

Without breaking eye contact, I spat right on her cunt, slick and hot. Rubbing my hand over her slick folds, dragging it slow and possessive.

She looked at me, breath catching, eyes wide and wild. “Okay... why the fuck does that feel so good?”

I leaned in close, voice low and cocky. “Because you’re made for me. Messy, greedy, and fucking mine.”

A sly, teasing grin spread over her lips. “You’re full of yourself.”

And I laughed. “That’s because you turn me the fuck on.”

She shivered, biting her lip, trying to hold her cool but failing.

My fingers didn’t stop, they slammed inside her harder, curling, stretching, dragging every gasp and tremble out of her.

My other hand gripped her thigh, fingers digging in, nails scratching just enough to sting.

“You should see yourself,” I whispered, voice thick with hunger. “Messy and desperate.”

She moaned, head falling back, hips grinding into my hand like she wanted more, needed more.

She came apart on my tongue, shaking, gasping , every nerve raw and exposed. Her legs locked tight around my shoulders like she was trying to hold herself together.

But I didn’t let up, not even close.

I kept going until she was a mess, pushing me away with weak hands, chest heaving, sweat slick and skin flushed. Boneless and broken against my counter, but still mine.

Her eyes were wild, lost in bliss and exhilaration.

I stood slowly, wiping my mouth, licking my fingers without breaking eye contact.

“You’re insane,” she whispered, breath shaky.

“Should’ve never tasted that good… or looked that damn pretty getting eaten out right here in my kitchen.”

She groaned, cheeks flushing. “You’re never allowed to talk again.”

“Then you better keep my mouth busy.” I whispered, smiling.

I leaned down and kissed her, slow, deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue.

Her fingers curled into my chest like she didn’t know how else to hold on. Then she bit my lip and said, “How about keeping mine full?”

I didn’t even get a word out before she shoved me back toward the fridge and dropped to her knees. I stared down at her, stunned and breathless, watching her fingers tear my briefs down with terrifying ease.

“ Jesus .”

She sank to her knees, dragging it with her, mouth already watering as she freed me. Her eyes locked on mine. She took me in slowly, wet, hot, saliva slick against my cock.

Her lips wrapped around it, warm and tight, tongue swirling, sucking, biting just enough to make me shudder. I grabbed her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pushed deeper, relentless, desperate, sloppy with spit.

I pushed her closer, sliding a hand behind her neck and pressing her down harder. Just enough to make her jaw tense, her breathing hitched. My breath caught in my throat as I whispered, “You like that? Can you fucking breathe with my cock in you like this?”

Her eyes fluttered closed, then snapped open.

Fucking beautiful.

I slid my hand lower, gripping her chin, forcing her head up slightly so I could watch the way her throat moved, struggling for air but still taking me in, willing and wild.

Gasping , but not asking for anything.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, choking on it.”

She struggled around me, hand clutching my thigh, nails digging in, trying to hold on as I pushed harder. And her pretty mouth welcomed the thrusts.

Until she stops and smiles while licking it. “Say it,” she murmured, lips brushing the tip before she took me in slowly, teasing.

I groaned, fingers tangling in her hair. “Say what?”

Her eyes locked on mine, dark and daring. “ Partner, please. Beg for it.”

I pressed back against the wall. “Fuck... partner, please .”

She nodded and opened her pretty lips again. And then I fucked her mouth harder, deeper, the slick drag of saliva making every thrust torturous and relentless.

Her jaw clenched and shifted around me, wet and warm, her tongue swirling in sloppy circles. I was lost in the sound of her breathing, the little gasps, the wet smack of skin sliding against skin.

Music to my ears.

I couldn’t even hear the background noise, the other song playing now. I can’t even tell what it is.