12-27-2017, 11:14 PM
He beckoned and Evelyn followed willingly. It was like a dream. Any moment she would wake and it would all end. She pierced the veil. Her light scattered darkness. So why did she feel so ... guilty?
Think on it later, she told herself.
She melted onto the cushions. His touch was intoxicating. The weight of him was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Before she worried about being crushed, he propped himself on his arm and hovered near. The starch of his shirt crumpled as she pulled him close again. The shape of his arms and chest she made out with the palms of her hands, and when he sat up enough to pull his shirt overhead, his silhouette cast shadows that she did not want to chase away this time.
He gripped her hands like he did not want to let go, like a boy that needed the reassurance of flesh and blood to ground him. That was her purpose, she recalled, to be the light that guided him forward. The light of Jesus that shined through her could redeem him his sins. She only had to remain pure of heart. Pure of virtue. Without the light she could not fulfill her destiny.
His breathing deepened. His weight shifted. Buttons were tugged and she blinked. The little circle-lights cast a pattern of shadows across the ceiling. Pure of virtue, she thought, realizing the source of her guilt.
"Nikolai,"
and he trembled at her whisper. He would take this all the way, she told herself. He was already doing just that. His caress was too wide, his kiss too deep. God help her but she had to push him away or it would be too late. "Nikolai,"
she spoke again.
"Yes?"
his whisper in her ear shot chills down her body. Maybe she was overreacting. She was being a silly, old-fashioned prude, she tried to tell herself. This was the Ascendancy. There was no denying how attracted she was to him. The most powerful man in the world, the whole entire world probably that ever lived, was nestled in her arms. The face that smiled for a million pictures whispered in her ear. But he was CCD. She was American. She was there to guide him, not bed him. No matter how much she wanted him closer, she could not give permission. One of them had to be strong. The duty fell to her.
She barely had the strength to push him away.
He looked hurt, "What's wrong?"
he asked. She wondered for a moment if she'd made a mistake. No. This was the responsible thing to do. One of them had to be responsible. She was just out of her element. She sat up and pushed her hair over her shoulders and straightened her blouse. He had opened only a few of the buttons. Deft flicks fixed them, and she straightened the necklace back to its place. He wasn't going to understand this, but neither did she want to wound him with rejection. How to let him down gently?
She smiled softly. His little lights were adorable. From there, she looked at their surroundings and considered the significance of her location. "We must stop,"
she began. "I'm .. I'm not ready."
It was more than shameful to admit, but she could think of no other excuse that was half-way believable. She could still feel the press of lips on hers, and the temptation to return to them pulled hard. Instead, she closed her eyes and put a hand to her necklace for focus. God's light was her beacon. She could not betray it outside--
--outside of marriage.
Think on it later, she told herself.
She melted onto the cushions. His touch was intoxicating. The weight of him was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Before she worried about being crushed, he propped himself on his arm and hovered near. The starch of his shirt crumpled as she pulled him close again. The shape of his arms and chest she made out with the palms of her hands, and when he sat up enough to pull his shirt overhead, his silhouette cast shadows that she did not want to chase away this time.
He gripped her hands like he did not want to let go, like a boy that needed the reassurance of flesh and blood to ground him. That was her purpose, she recalled, to be the light that guided him forward. The light of Jesus that shined through her could redeem him his sins. She only had to remain pure of heart. Pure of virtue. Without the light she could not fulfill her destiny.
His breathing deepened. His weight shifted. Buttons were tugged and she blinked. The little circle-lights cast a pattern of shadows across the ceiling. Pure of virtue, she thought, realizing the source of her guilt.
"Nikolai,"
and he trembled at her whisper. He would take this all the way, she told herself. He was already doing just that. His caress was too wide, his kiss too deep. God help her but she had to push him away or it would be too late. "Nikolai,"
she spoke again.
"Yes?"
his whisper in her ear shot chills down her body. Maybe she was overreacting. She was being a silly, old-fashioned prude, she tried to tell herself. This was the Ascendancy. There was no denying how attracted she was to him. The most powerful man in the world, the whole entire world probably that ever lived, was nestled in her arms. The face that smiled for a million pictures whispered in her ear. But he was CCD. She was American. She was there to guide him, not bed him. No matter how much she wanted him closer, she could not give permission. One of them had to be strong. The duty fell to her.
She barely had the strength to push him away.
He looked hurt, "What's wrong?"
he asked. She wondered for a moment if she'd made a mistake. No. This was the responsible thing to do. One of them had to be responsible. She was just out of her element. She sat up and pushed her hair over her shoulders and straightened her blouse. He had opened only a few of the buttons. Deft flicks fixed them, and she straightened the necklace back to its place. He wasn't going to understand this, but neither did she want to wound him with rejection. How to let him down gently?
She smiled softly. His little lights were adorable. From there, she looked at their surroundings and considered the significance of her location. "We must stop,"
she began. "I'm .. I'm not ready."
It was more than shameful to admit, but she could think of no other excuse that was half-way believable. She could still feel the press of lips on hers, and the temptation to return to them pulled hard. Instead, she closed her eyes and put a hand to her necklace for focus. God's light was her beacon. She could not betray it outside--
--outside of marriage.