🇧🇷 Cat, escritora.

Dito isso, logo se amaldiçoou ao terminar a frase. Não queria parecer exasperado, nem invasivo. Então virou de costas, fechando os olhos por um instante. A moça, envolta de estranhamento suavizou a expressão e chamou-o.

— Senhor Nornoct!

Sebastian virou novamente com o coração disparando como se fosse sair do peito.

— Sim, senhorita... — Tentou se manter firme esperando que ela se apresentasse.

— Valkiria. Valkiria Bennet. — Se apresentou sorrindo com as bochechas avermelhadas.

Sebastian quase se estremeceu ao ver aquela beleza de deuses, as bochechas como um tom de pêssego o fizeram desejar se apaixonar somente por aquela dama.

O jovem tomou a mão da moça levando-a aos lábios num cumprimento lento.

— Muito prazer, senhorita Bennet. Encantado. — Murmurou soltando seus dedos devagar.

E logo depois se viu preso outra vez naqueles olhos castanhos familiares.

— Me perdoe pela maneira como a abordei, senhorita Bennet. — disse ele ajeitando a cartola sob a cabeça.

Valkiria sorriu timidamente comovida como teria sido rude com um homem tão civilizado.

— Não é comum homens dizerem esse a uma senhorita que sequer conhecem como se já tivessem sido íntimos.

— Claro, me perdoe — repetiu arrependido.

Ela acenou um "está bem", e o gesto fez Sebastian engolir em seco. E se perguntava por que parecia reconhecer aquele momento vindo de alguém que desconhecia seu coração selvagem.

— Ainda estou curiosa, senhor Nornoct. Nos conhecemos de algum lugar do qual eu não me recordo?— Valkiria perguntou docemente.

────୨ৎ────

Maybe sweet, obscene, you never knew if he had both in the same party of neurons. So you decide to take the lead and experiences the struggle of talking openly like two adults tired of gossiping about life, people without substance. But Joe is faster, and asks a pointed question that could unfreeze any crack in your frozen heart.

"Honey, how was your day today? Are there a lot of people calling? Or are they just boring people wanting discounts on your art that's worth a lot more?" his voice was sweet, like candy. Maybe chocolates. And here we have those chocolate buttons that you were kind of dying to look at and see their reflection. You used to say that Joe had a beachy look, the kind where you feel summer, the sun burning your cheeks.

Joe could be the summer that warms your winter and all the other cold seasons that you let bloom inside you. But he prefers to see you in the garden as a fragrant flower, perhaps a gardenia.

And the sun shone on his face, that late afternoon, six in the evening. My God, that man has you paralyzed, and now you need to answer his question about "boss." Meanwhile, her eyes turn to you and flirt with the cold, botched execution of a serious woman. Haha, Joe knows very well how to disarm you from that woman you are at work, the mature side. He and you are fifth year students. Idiots in love, let's suppose.

"First, come here. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVEE!" He says happy and kisses you all over of your face and lips, with hugs.

You smile like a little and happy girl. So needly.

"Today I was selected in a campaign. They want to publish my drawings, but I don't know if it's just another opportunist, my dear." you respond firmly and seriously. With a slight thoughtful air.

"How magnificent, my goddess. Do you want something to drink? Like celebrate with me, hm your birthday too? Mm… I spent part of this night alone, abandoned. I would like to spend time with my artist girl." He shot the arrow of love, those heart-shaped eyes.

"Hm, okay." disarmed, you were disarmed by Joe's mental ability to keep you from your own self-sabotaging thoughts. And you loved that, because love didn't come from dates, flowers, chocolates. It came from when Joe saw the worst in you and continued there as a fan, a loyal fan of the "idol" and for him you were more than an idol, you were his muse. He loved to show you to the world as his woman, He wasn't ashamed to act like a lovesick idiot, even though he was a serious man.

On the outside, his layers were just a persona he created to protect himself. And you admired that about him, you loved Joe out of that busy Joe who made big-time movies. For you, you would fall in love every day with the same Joe, the doting Joe, the passionate Joe, the Joe who spoiled you with books. The Joe gave you a studio to call your own, so that you would never forget each other, in case the day no longer smiles at you.

You quietly go to your bedroom, and get rid of your tight clothes. Putting on some comfortable pajamas, when you point your head back into the living room, you find Joe dragging the coffee table into the living room. He holds his glasses, and winks.

"Comfortable now, princess? You look so cute in your Hello Kitty pajamas." As cute as it was, it was actually Joe's cute way of flirting with you.

In response to his attempt to be the man of the house while making your woman relax, you simply smile. And her cheeks burn.

" Are you trying to be a good husband before you even get married, Joe? " the direct question makes Joe nervous.

He gives a small smile and remains focused on pouring glasses of rosé wine, stealing a few fleeting glances. It wasn't like he didn't have the courage to look at you, he had only seriously considered marrying you the following year. You both had solid, solid careers, so nothing would be wrong. You sat down next to him, and he handed you a glass gently, with a warm look.

As you drink and taste the wine you recently bought together at the market, you open up.

"Why all this ceremony for me? What did I do to deserve this cultured, cautious and warm man, huh?" you say with a grateful look. You no longer looked exhausted, he was your refuge.

He finished drinking the wine and left it on the table. He returned his gaze as a man in love and ran his fingers around her waist.

"You were the best thing that happened to me since those hellish days"

" Those hellish days? " you look at him, locking your gaze with his, not out of desire, you know he needs to be heard.

"Yeah, when everything was about my career, and there was almost no room for really solid stuff. I didn't even have time to listen to a song without having a zillion things orbiting around in my head"

--

"I understand, honey. I almost did the same thing to you, when you approached me, remember what the first thing you said was?" your fingers tightened in his hair, the curls intertwined as if they didn't want to let go of your fingers.

Joe became thoughtful.

"I said something stupid or clever?"

"How absurd! Don't you remember? That puts you down the marriage proposal chain!" You playfully swear at him and suddenly a swear word escapes your mouth, but on your tongue. Portuguese. "He's going to ruin everything!"

The first thing Joe does after hearing that crazy sentence said in another language is raise his eyebrows and stare at you.

"I remember, I was testing you, baby. And what was that? Did you curse at me in another language, babygirl?"

You huff, but you don't get mad at him, you punish yourself.

"Damn, that sucks. Excuse me?"

Joe hates it when you punish yourself like that, he likes you being free and passionate about everything you are or do. But he always reminds you, when you overdo it, "You shouldn't be measured by what you do out there."

And that thought orbits and you follow the planetary of admiration.

"I want you to have some manners with yourself. No holding back. How ugly, a grown woman, hot, fucking hot as hell. Talking so rudely to yourself? That's blasphemy!"— he protest seriously, as much as you can to punish yourself in the correct way.

You're speechless, Joe had this power, he would raid your words, like a thief, and steal them all, from your personal dictionary. But you always get the copyright back.

"Don't leave me like this, don't steal the words from my mouth when I want to speak!— you exclaim in a sly tone, which suddenly permeates, and he stops being rude.

"I'm not saying things to assault your vocabulary, I'm serious. I hate it when you act like that, you're so beautiful in every way, face, personality, body. Creative, so stop being bossy with yourself. Okay, baby?"

The flood of sermons makes you smile for him. He frowns, trying hard not to be defeated. Or to be defeated by the pout you're giving him right now.

"Shit, don't do that, that's not fair. I'm trying to be serious and you come with that pout".

But it didn't take long and he stole a kiss from you, after looking at you for a long time.

"Mmh, Joe. Great way to silence myself from intrusive thoughts— You smile inappropriately, and he does the same.

He licks his lips.

"You're the cutest, most hellish thing in my world, you know that?" his hands hold her face firmly, but with a delicate tone.

A while later, after the kiss. He drops his hand to your leg, his palm closing so well on your thighs, and before you can speak or get his attention, he plays at peeking inside your pajama shorts.

"Hey, watch out! You have no right to peek at my shorts. I'm not wearing any panties..."

The revelation makes Joe salivate, but he still wants to get serious and know how you are. So the macho, surrendered man pose, well, it disappears for a few minutes.

" I won't peek anymore, I promise..." but he is aware and realizes that you lied about not wearing underwear. "Ahh, liarrr"... He smiles shaking his head.

But, Joe complete:

"Now tell me, what was that about you suddenly cursing in Portuguese? Am I correct?

"I learned some pretty heavy swear words, you know, foreigners don't seem to have that swearing sauce..." you scoff but still maintain respect.

He rolls his eyes, but then becomes curious.

"And you know a lot of... Hm, swear words?"

"Oh my god, my boy wants to learn uneducated words??"

All Joe does now is stifle his laughter, but soon he invites you to the giggle party.

"I wanna know, teach me and I can teach you some British. How about that, love?"

The idea sounds appealing, and you went for it, even without a ticket.

"Tell me words and I'll translate them for you, hm?"

Joe looks thoughtful, his tongue circling the roof of his mouth, and suddenly says.

"I will be condemned, burned in hell, but how do you say in Portuguese "pussy?"

You laugh, unexpectedly.

" Hm, God... Okay, you would change the "p" at the beginning to "b". So you say " Boceta"

He frowns, and smiles. Tucking his hands behind her shoulder, as they sit on the couch.

"And how do you say something kind of cute, I mean, how do couples call each other? How do you say the affectionate word "darling"?

"You change the "d" in Darling to "q". It becomes "querida".

Joe tries to imitate what you say, with a certain note of embarrassment at having his tongue now rolled up.

"Querida..." He repeats it as if it were a sweet personal mantra that he would have with him or use when calling you.

"You don't want me to teach you a swear word combo, do you?"

" Combo?" His eyes seem lost. And searching for a mapping in yours.

"Yes, combo. Because in Brazil you don't swear with one or two words. Almost the entire dictionary comes with it!"

"Oh, then show me everything. I really want to know if they are more unbeatable than us British.

"A sua mãe, aquela cachorra sarnenta!"

Joe repeats his sentence, with a note of amusement. But he doesn't even know what he's saying, and it's hilarious.

"You actually got the drift of how to pronounce it right! Good kid!"

He smiles and says rubbing your fingers together.

" And what did I say?"

"You said "your mother, that mangy dog!"

Joe panics. The wrinkles contract.

"Wow! That's pretty offensive!" He stares at you as if he were fed more by more curiosity. And he was. " And what other swear words do you use most in Brazil, love?"

You start laughing before you speak.

"Filho da puta!"

He repeats confusedly. Out of orbit.

" Filho da puta? Love, what did I say?"

" Son of a bitch".

Okay, he was loving every moment of this with you, no matter how casual it was.

"Oh, God, that's terrible. But I like the sound of it, "Son of a bitch." His drawl drawl, making her almost soak your middle.

He continues to look at you, and his hand traces circles around your waist, and slowly moves up until it finds your sensitive point of reference. Your neck. He remains for a while with his gaze paused, still. And when you protests, he kisses you slowly. His lips wrap around yours like two ropes intertwining passionately. His tongue twirled as if your tongue were a planet to orbit and not leave so soon.

"Mmhh, baby..." He grunts and groans against your lips. "I was so lonely earlier. I want to fill you so much... With kisses."

You shiver under his sly looks and murmurs. Damn hot, cute Brit.

"You can't wait for me to make dinner."

"Nope". He responds slyly, now kissing her neck hungrily. "I'm hungry. For you..."

His eyes sparkle, and his stomach feels like he's on a Ferris wheel.

"Oh, god... What you want, baby? Hm, Joe?"

"Your Joe, he wants affection, and maybe some extra." He couldn't hide that he was crazy about every inch he had of you, that came from you.

And you go back to kissing, with his hands cupped in the corner of your face, lazily caressing your cheek. The kiss intensifies, and he moves his kisses down your blouse, without even protesting you let him play there. That made you alive, after all. The affection, the desire that mix in the same orbit. Thats you and Joe's love.

"mmh, give me your throughts, strip away every thought now." He begs, so submissive to her love and her touch.

You laugh at this adorable stupidity.

Then she climbs onto his lap, Joe smiles at her admission. And lifts her shirt to kiss her torso.

"I wanted this so much."

It almost came out like a sacred proverb, his need for you.

"We need..." At that, Joe opens the drawer behind him, stretching his arms. And hands you a condom. He was agile, over you and him.

You smile and slowly tear open the packaging as he beneath you screams inside for wanting you.

You hand him the condom, and he steps back a little, taking off his shorts and throwing them onto the other couch. However, when playing, he hits you in the eye, with a heavy hand.

"GOD, SORRY BABYY. I-I sorry... Are you hurt?" His voice is thick with worry. He keeps rubbing his eye, but you laugh it off. He kisses you several times on the mouth and sides as a way of making an apologetic apology.

"I'm fine, Joe. I'm fine." And when he makes sure you're not hurt, he lets out a sigh of relief.

Then he returns to his main mission, to have his girl riding under him.

"Will you be my pony?" He says this catchphrase that makes you laugh and get excited. That perfect mix.

"Have you been listening to Ginuwine? My God, Joseph…"

He accuses himself.

"Okay, guilty as accused. On a great R&B beat, baby."

You look at each other, and you start to rub yourself against him, and he pulls like a hungry animal your shorts and panties. He throws them aside, and after putting on the protection, he holds your sides and captures your lips, as you're gliding over it, lazily, because you don't want to start out like a starving animal. You like to eat from the edges, where the food is warm. You can't burn your mouth, you don't like this.

He kissed you as you slid from front to back, feeling like you were in a flower field where you were free to touch that soft grass. A crazy fantasy. And he was there with you.

"Fuck, that's it, slide like that. Fuck, fuck…" The sound of his soft moans hypnotizes you. And you decide to give in to the idea of ​​doing it so well. You rub yourself slowly and he tastes it, while he guides you by holding your waist. Joe has a firm, seductive grip as he watches you slide lower and lower, wanting to feast inside him.

You were the main star and you looked like the porn star. The way you have it makes you spin, as if you are on a roller coaster of emotions and desires beyond madness. You were like Persephone and he was your Hades. He worships you like the goddess you are, Joe loved feeling you sail deeply over his sensitive spot. It was intriguing, terrifying, but it was the best thing he didn't want to feel.

You start to bounce on him, and the grunts become higher pitched and thicker. A mix of guttural moans. He could feel like a rockstar himself right now, with you devouring him like this. He stood up straighter and took off the house shirt he was wearing, and your hands touched his chest, as if he were some kind of art piece. Exposed only for you. Joe was art. His body, everything about him, from his accent, his smile, and along with his dimples were the damn perfect package of a man you wanted since the beginning.

"Joe, I need you... Mmhh, that's it... mmhh, Baby!" Her grunts blend with his, each new entry more personal into his dungeons.

He smiles and can barely speak, his speech has become slurred.

"Ride like this, that's it, you're my pony." It was as if he was using the song "pony" as a reference.

And you hit the spot deeper and deeper, and he thanked every movement as if it were a prayer. And maybe it was. You dove deeper, and he took his fingers, two fingers inside your mouth and you took them, sucked them. Spoiled them. Joe could no longer bear that pleasure. And he grunted as you ate his finger, and licked it with affection and adoration.

"Good God, you are such a goddess."

"Then worship me?" You ask indecently and domineeringly.

He no longer left you in charge, he turned you over on the couch, getting on top of you and engraved on the walls of his heart, every inch of you. Your sweet and inappropriate smiles of a devil. And there was also an angel in you. And he doesn't know who he likes more. But he's sure he'd love every character.

He took her from behind, and gave her a slap on her buttocks that reverberated through the walls, only they would know what they did. No one else would need it, however, he couldn't bear it, and he would make her pay. His price was going to be charged.

As he takes you from behind, he rigorously pulls your hair that he has grabbed a handful of, and whispers in the shell of your ear:

"You woke the dragon here, now you will be eaten, swallowed. I will breathe fire on you, inside you." That was so erotic, that you let out a little scream, before biting your lips and melting.

And you let him devour you like a hungry dragon. He began to slide over you, press into you. Deep, and rough. But there was still care, and the loving side there.

"That's what you want, to be filled, baby. So say it, words, love, words."

"What words?" Now, you act like a fool.

"I guess the key words?" He growled.

"Bad words?" You have signed your contract with the devil, with hell.

He smiled, laughed insanely, and pulled your hair. And he filled you, until your core had been kissed by the strength of him against you. Your core had never been so grateful for your bud holding him. It was hot, completely hot. And you melted like ice cream.

"You're my ice cream, and I'm going to lick you all over" Joe signs and then slides his mouth over your buttocks as he lifts you up, with you whimpering like a baby without your pacifier.

He continued to lick you every inch, and you felt yourself melting like ice cream in the sun. But it felt good, too good, his tongue dancing over every curve of your body. He ran his firm hands down her belly, and up to her breasts, quickly removing her shirt. Joe squeezed each pair, tightly, saying.

"You're mine, only mine, brat."

"Fill me with your babies"...

You groaned and took a deep breath. And then he filled her, moving his body a little toward her, and filled her completely, until they both fell on the couch, one on top of the other.

"Ah, your gift. "He walks away, still naked and hands you a small box.

You smile, warmed by his warmth, then placing his hand on your thigh.

"What… no, Joeeey, I didn't need this gift… Baby, I already told you that you are the greatest gift the heavens gave me!"

"Open this soon, silly. I really hope my girl likes it." Even though he was unsure, there was a hint of anxiety and euphoria.

"Okay…" You roll your eyes and smile. He starts to unwrap it and finds a delicate pendant marked with his name.

"Mm… The pendant was for you to remember that you are my favorite artist. You are so good at creating, every single day I hope you have this insight, don't be shy, my girl. Undress for the world, ok, undress your art. You are mine!" You thought Joe was so sweet, jealous but always knowing that his wife was an independent artist and admired that about you, before any other attribute.

Their eyes fill with emotion, as if they had been hosed down with cold water, but during a sweltering summer.

"Put it around my neck, please?" You ask and he gently removes the cord from your hand. Pull your hair forward until it touches your chest. And after dressing you in the pendant, he places several warm kisses on the back of your neck.

When you turn to him you notice the damage to the room.

"God, what a mess." You look at the room full of thrown clothes and pillows thrown aside. Joe laughs at her reaction and doesn't stop loving her expressions, from the angry one to the one that recognizes the almost perfect damage.

"You're my favorite mess, the person who taught me bad words today. I just love you, I love you so much." He turns your face and you feel his soft, cotton-like fingers lining your jaw. And you smile, so beautifully at Joe and he pulls you in for a kiss, and warm, messy hugs. After all, between dirty and offensive swear words, you learned every day that each other's mess was the true essence that you had to keep beyond a promise in your entire life. You and Joe would be the messy sides that other people didn't want to be in, but you wanted to dive deeper and deeper into that mess that you were together.