Chapter 5 BROKEN EDGE OF CONTROL

MICHAEL

Dealing with Aliana ought to have been straightforward and simple.

I had reminded myself countless times that evening: take her home, bid her goodnight, then leave.

I intended to do so.

I truly had.

Aliana is in my living room, her wet hair cascading down her shoulders, dressed in one of my shirts since her dress had become drenched-

It changed every guideline I had ever followed.

How she couldn't feel my tremors I had no idea but I knew I was in trouble as I watched her fold in her legs and sit comfortably while I struggled to breathe because my hard on couldn't get more hard. I tried so hard to maintain a semblance of being normal by acting as if I wasn't affected but I failed woefully.

We maintain few seconds of peaceful silence before she looked straight at me and asked me a dangerous question. "What keeps you gruonded Hamilton? The world talks about you like an untouchable soldier, you overthink a lot, so how do you maintain normalcy?".

I had no idea what the response to that question is because quite frankly until I met her, I've never questioned anything about my life but after meeting her even the foundations of my belief are totally unfounded.

In the pregnant silence of my confusion, with rain petals still making it's wavy sound on the roof, I clear my throat and try to sound normal. "It's been a very long day Aliana, you should go get some sleep now."

She smirks then scoffs "Will you go to bed if I go now?, will you stop overthinking even for a second?"

"I rarely ever get enough sleep anyway."

"Is it because of me?" she inquired, playfully-but her voice shook.

I gulped. "Partly also due to all the things I'm trying to suppress."

She was near enough now that I could observe the small droplets dropping to her lashes. My heart raced like a drum I couldn't silence.

"I've never seen you so frazzled and unsure," she murmured. "You're always very composed and capable."

"That's the issue, isn't it?"Perception is not all there is." I whispered, hardly hearable.

Her hand lightly touched mine. It was a short, unintentional shift, yet it shattered something within me-something deeply coiled, old and exhausted of always being in control.

I grabbed her fingers just before she could retract them. "You have no idea what you've been doing to me Aliana, and honestly, I'm trying to give you space because if I were to touch you, there would be no turning back."

She looked directly at me, her eyes challenging me with something I hesitated to identify. "Perhaps you could show it to me."

It felt as if gravity had been awaiting approval.

As soon as I kissed her, all my fears-the separation, the constraints, the tag of "asexuality," the idea that I'd never experienced, what other guys did-it disintegrated in one fleeting moment.

I have no idea who made the first move afterwards, or whether the storm outside had lessened, or if time itself had just paused out of compassion but I was totally lost.

I was aware only of her hands on me, gentle yet confident, while mine shook as they outlined her face. Each touch seemed like a revelation. Each breath, a promise of more to come.

"I'm unsure how to handle this; I've had some partners after that, but never anything deep," I murmured against her temple.

She gave a slight smile. "Neither do I, but you probably have more experience at this than I do." "Seven years of being married without any form of intimacy, you must be superior to me."

That truth broke me more than anything else.

We were not specialists, were not flawless. We were two shattered individuals discovering comfort in the most unlikely places.

I had a thousand questions for her-whether she was sure, if she grasped the implications-but her eyes responded before I could say anything. There was no uncertainty, only confidence.

I kissed her deeply and passionately, lifted her up, and carried her to my bedroom; within moments, we were both breathless and undressed. Her phone began to ring at one point, but I was too lost to let her return to her reality or her husband, so I bit her shoulder to keep her with me in this moment. My fingers traveled to her clit as she moaned in desire before I slid my dick into her. She was tight-definitely too tight, confirming she had never been intimate with her husband. This knowledge thrilled me because I would be her first and last. She tensed, and I reassured her, "It'll pass, sweetheart; you'll feel good soon." I dry her tears, saying, "It hurts so bad, Mike..."

I peck her forehead and say, "Calm down, things will get better soon."

I attempted to restrain myself, yet her tightness nearly overwhelmed me; however, at some point, her tears turned into moans, and I lost my grip on control as I repeatedly thrust into her. "Mike...oh...god, it feels odd...please..."

She experiences her first orgasm as I release fully within her, but the night is merely starting.

The universe gave way to the rhythm of her inhalations, the ebb, and the flow of them alongside my own.

It wasn't desire-it was something more genuine, profound, frighteningly authentic.

For the first time ever, I experienced a sense of vitality within my own body.

And I realized, without question, I was back. I brought her to the bathroom and bathed her, and upon our return, my housekeeper had changed the sheets.

Eventually, after the storm had calmed down following my relentless grasp on her after taking her at least three times, and she rested half-asleep next to me, I found it impossible to look away from her.

Her expression was serene, illuminated by moonlight, and I understood something both lovely and harsh: there was no return from this.

I swept a lock of hair away from her face. "You've ruined me," I murmured.

Her eyes slowly opened, a relaxed smile appearing. "You ruined me."

I chuckled gently, the noise unusual and fresh in the silent room.

She snuggled up tighter, exhaling softly. "Are you thinking once more?"

"Always."

"Stop." "Simply live in this moment."

So I went ahead and did it.

For a moment in my life, I allowed the world to fade away, and I remained.

Yet long after she fell asleep, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling, experiencing all that I had spent years telling myself I couldn't feel.

Desire

Love

Primarily fear-since I had discovered what it felt like to desire, to care, I wasn't sure if I'd ever survive losing it.

I reached for her hand beneath the sheets, intertwining our fingers.

The rain had stopped outside but inside me, a storm had just begun.