☠ Chapter Twenty-Three ☠
➳ ZAYN'S POV
I wake up in a sweat. I go to move my arm, but I can't feel it. When I look to my right, Arielle is laying comfortably on top of it. I squeeze my hand into a fist, pins and needles tingle at my fingertips.
Arielle's tucked into my side just the same as when she first curled up here. The warmth is radiating off of her small body onto mine, which has caused the temperature of my skin to warm. Her brown hair is pulled up messily. My eyes trail down her body. Her rear is barely covered by my shirt; I can see the faintest sight of the bare skin on her ass.
My mouth is parched, and I can still feel the liquor in my bloodstream. I'm still a little drunk, but it's not nearly as strong as it was earlier. I wriggle my arm free from underneath her body. When I've finally freed my arm she stirs a little in her sleep, but she doesn't wake. I sit up and look at the clock, we've only been asleep for maybe two hours – it's three in the morning.
I walk across the room. I make it about halfway across before I stop dead in my tracks. My neck cranes itself towards the wall to my right; the wall which the small green armchair rests up against. The chair is still pulled away from the wall, exactly where I left it.
I'm tempted to grab an eraser and clear the entire wall. She should have her own wall where she can write whatever the fuck she wants on it. I wouldn't care if she wrote a single word on the entire surface . . . it'd be her wall, and her wall alone.
I saunter towards the kitchen and grab a wad of paper towel. I head straight back towards the bedroom and recklessly wipe away at the chalk drawings that have littered this wall for so long. Some of these comic book characters have been on here since I moved in.
It takes a lot of work to erase everything that's ever been drawn on the wall. I'm sure the wall looks like a mess now, but all that's left on it is the one quote she's written. And now she'll be able to draw, or write whatever she wants on it. I want to wake up every morning only to roll over and stare at her handwriting on the wall.
When I'm satisfied with what I've done, I look back towards Arielle. She's still silently sleeping, and so I walk over to her, taking the time to comfortably tuck the blanket around her small body. I discard the soiled paper towel on the green chair for now.
I grab a cigarette and a lighter and head for the balcony. As I walk past the living room area, I spot Sky sprawled out on the little pillow I'd bought for her. She snores lightly in her sleep and kicks her leg a little but she doesn't seem to hear me as I pass her.
I step outside and the warm Miami air instantly kisses my skin. It's a beautiful evening, the moon is full in the sky which is littered with stars. I light up the cigarette in my fingers.
I'm having a bit of difficulty in remembering the earlier evening's activities. The alcohol is still latched onto me, fogging my memory slightly. I inhale slowly on the cigarette, and exhale, causing a white cloud in front of me.
When I look down at my chest, I notice some new black lettering that wasn't there before. Arielle's name is written over the skin that rests above my heart. I slowly run my fingers over it. I can't remember much about how it got there, but I remember her undressing me, and myself asking to make love to her.
I've never asked a woman to make love. Yes, I'd asked multiple women to have sex, to fuck, to bang, whatever, but there was something about using the term make love that felt so much more intimate to me. I was used to sex being rough, and quick. There wasn't an overabundance of touching, caressing, massaging . . . everything was rushed, messy and desperate.
But in my drunken state I find myself wanting to touch her, to caress her. I wanted to slowly peel her clothes off her body. I wanted to kiss every inch of her skin. I wanted to please her in a way that I'd never pleased another woman. To please her in a way that she'd never been pleased.
Ever since the first time I kissed her I've been hooked. She's worse than this damn nicotine. She's my drug of choice. I'd much rather feel the relief that washes over me when her skin touches mine than smoke a cigarette.
"Zayn?" I hear her sweet voice calling my name.
I finish off the cigarette in my fingers and toss it carelessly off the balcony. I head back inside. As I'm closing the patio door, she comes around the corner – the epitome of beauty.
"What are you doing awake babygirl?" I ask.
She tugs awkwardly at the hem of my shirt. "I missed you . . ." she confesses. "Are you okay?"
I nod my head, "just parched is all." I walk towards her. When I'm standing directly in front of her I hear her take a large breath, inhaling my scent. I gently place my hands on her hips and softly kiss her forehead.
I move around her, grabbing a glass from the kitchen cupboard. I fill it up with water from the tap and drink it. "Why'd you erase your wall?" She asks as I place the glass onto the marble top.
"It's yours," I say.
"You're still drunk, aren't you?"
I admire how long her legs look. She's still fiddling with the hem of my shirt. "That has nothing to do with the wall," I comment.
"Yes it does, you'll regret it in the morning. There were so many beautiful drawings up there . . ."
I take a step towards her. "I won't regret it, I promise. It's yours now . . . in fact," I grab her hand and pull her towards the room, "I want you to write or draw your first thing on it." She pulls away from me a little, but realizes that she can't fight my grip. I tug her into my bedroom and hand her a piece of chalk.
"Go ahead," I encourage. She turns towards me, and her eyes rake up and down my body. She stares at the black writing on my chest of her name before she shyly turns back towards the now empty wall.
She steps forward and begins writing something in her beautiful handwriting. When she's done she takes a step back, only to think for a moment, step forward to another spot on the wall and begin writing again.
The conversation between your fingers and someone else's skin – this is the most important conversation you can ever have.
She steps back from having written something else further up the wall.
Kiss me like you wanna get slapped
I smirk, "where's that from?"
I'm unsure of what she's talking about.
"It's a book and a movie," she elaborates. A moment of silence falls over the two of us, and so we just stand and stare at what she's written. She puts the chalk down delicately on the dresser and walks back to me. Arielle wraps her hands around my waist. "I think I like drunk Zayn," she comments quietly.
"Why is that?" I whisper.
She snuggles into my side, "I don't know . . . something about him is very . . . he's very honest, and I like it. I could see myself spending a lot more time with him."
Her words spark something inside me. I'm taken aback for a moment and so I don’t respond. It's quiet between us again. Her hands move slow circles up my torso until they find the sides of face. I look down into her eyes, and her hand softly runs across the stubble on my chin. I close my eyes at her touch, it makes my skin feel heated; it's a feeling I desire.
She stands on her tippy toes and threads the fingers on her left hand through my dark hair. Her other hand reaches for the ring in my lip and she tugs on it lightly, enamoured with the way my lip bounces as she releases it.
It feels like an eternity before she presses her lips to mine. My hands quickly find the skin of her hips and I squeeze them playfully. Her eyes drink in the sight of my naked torso, and she runs her hands over my skin. Her hands ghost over my exposed chest, emitting a trail of goose-bumps in their path.
Her hands are trembling against me. She crashes her lips against mine again. My fingers run up her spine and she lets out a shuddering breath. I use the opportunity to slip my tongue into her mouth and she moans at the contact. "Zayn," she whispers my name in the darkness, almost as if she's drunk off my touch.
She grabs hold of my lower lip with her teeth and pulls at it friskily. Her hand grazes over me through my boxers and I involuntarily suck in a breath. Her lips curl into a smirk as her eyes fill with anticipation.
"I fucking love the way you say my name babygirl," I moan out. It's almost impossible to form a coherent thought as her hand strokes over my boxers. I'm already becoming stiff under her. I lean into her addictive touch and kiss her olive skin.
I kiss her neck, her jawline, her lips – any piece of skin that throbs under my touch. Her taste absolutely consumes all of my senses, as does her scent. She still smells of strawberries and I find myself inhaling the scent as if I somehow need it to breathe properly. My heart-rate has already accelerated rapidly as has hers; I can feel it under my fingertips.
Her fingers trail down my body again and she dances them along the waistband to my boxers. I'm straining against the fabric, desperate for release. I reach up towards the elastic that's holding her hair. With a little tug her hair comes cascading down onto her shoulders. I stare at her beauty for a moment.
"What?" She asks, breathless.
"You're beautiful," I comment. Her hair is messy and wild, just like the look in her eyes.
She reaches for the waistband to my boxers again and I feel my mouth dry as she slowly sinks down to her knees in front of me. She pulls the cotton fabric down and it pools at my ankles. Arielle looks up at me under her eyelashes, looking ever so innocent. I suck air through my teeth, trying to mentally prepare myself for what's to come. I've been wanting this for what feels like forever, but now that she's on her knees in front of me, with her pink plump lips mere inches from me I can't help the pounding of my heart. I know that I won't last long when she's so sinfully beautiful.
A hiss leaves my lips when she runs her tongue up my length. I instinctively reach for her hair, grasping it as lightly as my fingers will allow. "Christ, Arielle."
She takes me in her mouth then, and I groan loudly at the wonderful feeling. She moves slowly at first, swirling and flicking her tongue around my tip while her hand pumps. I bite my lip and throw my head back as an erotic moan slips out. She takes all of me, until I hit the back of her throat. She appears a little flustered at first, but then hollows her cheeks and sucks harder.
"Stop," I groan out. She stops what she's doing and looks up at me from under her eyelashes, confused. "I want this to last, and if you keep going, I won't," I explain.
She stands up and I grip her arms lightly. I step forward, which forces her to step backwards until her knees hit the edge of my bed and she falls backwards. Her beautiful hair spreads out around her face angelically. I step between her legs, hovering over her, placing gentle kisses to each piece of skin that's exposed. My fingers ghost over the skin of her naked thigh and she shudders at the touch.
When my hardness comes into contact with her clothed centre she rolls her head back and arches her body off the bed. It's an exquisite site; she can't get enough of my touch. She rolls her hips against mine, craving me. She looks absolutely delicious beneath me.
I reach for the hem of my shirt and slowly peel it off her body. Her breath hitches in her throat when I pepper her with kisses again, carefully making my way down the valley of her breasts. I grab each breast in my hand and give them a light squeeze. She arches her back again, moving her body towards my touch.
I quickly move my hands around her back, reaching for the clasp on her lace bra. Her fingers reach for my back and she rakes them lightly down my skin. I pull the straps of her bra off her shoulders and remove the lace fabric. My mouth darts for her right nipple and I give it a kiss before taking it in my mouth and sucking lightly. She bites her lip and moans while her fingers run frantically through my hair. "Zayn," she says my name again.
She grips my hair harsh, pulling me up towards her lips. She slips her tongue into my mouth. My fingers reach between her legs and I graze my fingers over her clothed centre. Arielle's fingers rake down my back again and I break the kiss.
I move downwards and gingerly pepper the skin above her panties with kisses. Her eyes close and she rolls her head back a little with anticipation. I hook my fingers into the sides of the fabric and tug it lightly down her legs. I carelessly toss it over my shoulder.
I run my fingers over her folds and her breath hitches again. I swipe my tongue quickly over her and she moans out. Her fingers find my hair and she gives it a light tug. I kiss her sensitive nub before rolling it between my lips. I continue the light assault and her hips buck up off the bed as she presses herself against my tongue.
"Jesus. Zayn, I–" she's wildly squirming underneath me.
I hum in response, sending vibrations through her. It's enough to send her over the edge. She mumbles out a series of profanities as she reaches her high.
I retract from her and she sits up on the bed. Her hands grasp my neck and she wastes no time slipping her tongue past my lips. I hover over her on the bed, both hands placed on either side of her thighs. After a few moments she pulls away and I crawl onto the bed.
I place myself in the middle of the bed. She begins crawling over to me. I hiss when her hands reach for my throbbing length and she strokes it lightly.
I sit on the bed with my legs out straight in front of me. She crawls up onto my lap, placing her knees on either side of my thighs. She holds my length as she lowers herself carefully onto it. As I sink into her she slowly swallows and throws her head back, wrapping her arms gently around my neck. We're both sitting up, tightly holding onto each other.
She begins slowly moving herself up and down. My hands reach for her back and I rake my fingers down her naked flesh. Her lips dart for mine, placing a gentle kiss to them. She twists her hips, making small figure eight's – it causes so much pleasure that she throws her head back. Her beautiful hair cascades down her back, touching the tips of my fingers, which rest on her lower back. I dart forward, attaching my lips to her collarbone and I suck, bringing blood to the surface. I wanted a reminder of this night, of how good I've made her feel tonight. I suck harder, being sure to leave a mark on her beautiful skin.
"Fuck," I curse. I begin lifting my hips, thrusting to meet her as she slowly moves up and down on top of me.
She moans even louder, "oh my god." Her eyes dart to my heart, where her name is still loudly written on my skin. She places her hand over top of it.
"I'm close Angel," I whisper against the shell of her ear, nibbling on the sensitive skin. She moves her hips a little faster, making quicker movements. It's enough movement that I feel my release coming. I buck my hips up harshly and she screams out. Her breathing becomes ragged and I nestle my nose in the crook of her neck as she reaches another high. I listen to her soft curses as I feel my much needed release.
"You're so beautiful," I say again, as if I haven't said it enough during the evening. She looks down at me and kisses my lips softly before carefully crawling off my lap. Her eyelids appear heavy – full of sleep. Her head softly hits the pillow. I mimic her actions, pulling the blanket over both of us.
She hums an inaudible, sleepy response. My hands reach for her under the covers and I force her to move closer to me. She smiles at me before sleepiness overcomes her and she closes her eyes.
I spend the next half hour or so watching her sleep, and listening to her breathing until my eyes shut and my body finds sleep.