7. Enough

Nasty. Not all sweet and lovely.
This thing we had going? I had to break the spell somehow.

I went to his fucking hotel. Knew where he stayed.  Knew under which name.

Knocked on the door. The door was opened. Not by him. By the rhythm guitar player. I said "Get out," and he did.

The elf was lying on his back. On the bed. He jumped up when I came in.

"She here?" I asked.

"Darling, no, what..."

I grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him over. Yanked his head forward, kissed him, rough.

Bit him in his lip. Pushed him on the bed. Clawed his hair.  Sat on him, astride. Held both his arms above his head.

"Enough," I jelled. "Get out of my fucking head. ENOUGH!"

I started punching him, squeezed my thighs together, bouncing on him. "Get out of my head!" I cried. Then I kissed him again, cried, howled. Kneading his arms, his torso, his hair.

"I can't do this anymore," I sobbed and fell forward, drained.

He put his arms around me and turned me over. Started caressing me, with soothing words. As if I was a scared puppy or a foal. Petting me, stroking me. My face, my hair, my arms, my back.

But I was so angry, I spat at him. Like a serpent.

He wiped the spit from his face, while looking at me. Teeth clenched. Grabbed my arms and held them under my body. A smirk on his face as I tried to break free.

I screamed, frustrated. But he crushed my lips with his, forced his tongue in my mouth.

With his free hand he ripped open my blouse and drew circles around my nipples through my bra till they poked against the fabric. I started panting.

A kiss, deep, moving his tongue as if penetrating me. He let my arms go, but did not stop scourging my tits in the most delightful way. I left my arms that way as to give him better access.

When I started moving my hips against him he opened my jeans and put his hand in my panties. With one finger he began to manipulate my hidden wet clitoris. And as I pushed my parts against him he slipped his hand between my legs and made me crazy with lust.

Suddenly he jumped of the bed and while staring at me he slowly took of his shirt, then his pants, his boxers. Stood before me, naked. Glorious. Ready. Huge. Throbbing.

"Take of your clothes," he demanded.

I raised my hips and pulled of my jeans, panties, then turned on my stomach and lifted my body. Stayed that way. On my hands and knees. Looked behind me.  Invited him, licked my lip. Saw his eyes turn dark as he approached.
He grabbed my blouse, other hand on my hip as he entered me.
The two thrust he gave made me rear. He licked me behind my ear, my neck, biting my shoulder and started rubbing my slippery mount while moving inside me. Kneading my breasts. Growling a bit. Moaning in rhythm. Gasping while he moved.

This was difficult to withstand and I felt an orgasm coming to be compared with the beginning of earth.

I reached under me, behind me, and took his balls in my hand. Kneaded them. "Fuck!", he screamed and unloaded in me. Loads, forceful, plenty. Stars. Jeeeaa. This was pleasure. I floated. Drifted away. He supported me. And when I crashed forward he fell with me. Panting, giving me little kisses like butterflies.

A loud banging on the door. The guitar player came in. Worried look on his face. Not surprised to see us that way. Said "She came back, changed her mind. In our room now. Thought you should know, man." And closed the door again.

Long silence. Then he got of the bed, got of me. Leaving me cold and shivering. He came back with a big white towel. Wrapped it around me and took me in his arms. Lifted me. Carried me to the bathroom. Put the shower on and stepped under it with me in his arms. He washed me, like a child. Said nothing. Nothing. Only a severe look in his eyes.

After this washing ritual he said he had to go. That I had to go. "I know what you wanted. Just can't happen. It's up to you. Only you can break free from what we have. What we have. It's just there." He touched my heart. His heart. Smiled. Finger on his mouth. Slight kiss. From his finger to my lips.
And then he left the room.