Celeste's Desires and Her Suppressed Feelings for Ethan
Celeste lay stretched out on the massage table, her mind and body seeming to exist in two completely different worlds. The strong hands working over her shoulders, slowly sliding down her back, were meant to relax her, to release tension - but instead they awakened something deeper. A tension she wasn't sure she wanted to let go of.
Because no matter how hard she tried to clear her mind... Ethan was still there.
Beside her, Elizzia continued to speak, her voice soft and unruffled. But Celeste's attention wavered, fragmented by the slow, deliberate movement of the masseur's fingers, which trailed from her spine to her lower back, pressing into the soft curve of her waist.
"You feel like Ethan is slipping away from you, don't you?" Elizzia mused, her own eyes fluttering shut as the massage deepened.
Celeste's eyes snapped open at the words. The hands moving over her back suddenly felt like something else. Something that stirred the jealousy that was simmering just beneath her skin. Yes, Ethan was pulling away. And it was unbearable.
"He can't pull away from me," she said, carefully controlling her voice.
The masseur's hands moved lower, skimming the firm muscles of her back, brushing the delicate arch of her waist. Celeste inhaled sharply, her lashes drooping, her lips parting ever so slightly. Ethan was hers - as much as she was his. And yet here she was, trying to find comfort in the touch of another.
Elizzia turned her head slightly, catching the faintest flicker of tension in Celeste's expression. The jealousy showed, even if Celeste didn't say it out loud.
"Celeste, Ethan is your son."
The words hung in the air like a blade. Celeste's back tensed. The masseur hesitated for a second before increasing his pressure, coaxing her muscles to relax again. She clenched her teeth. That word. Always a chain around her. Son. But when she thought of him... she didn't always feel like a mother.
"He is mine," she murmured, her voice low, almost possessive.
Elizzia understood at once. The jealousy. The ownership. The fear of losing control of him.
"Celeste, Ethan is a man now. He's going to have other people in his life. Are you ready for that?"
Celeste barely registered the words - because just then she felt the masseur's hands linger a little too long on the hollow of her back, fingertips brushing the curve of her hip. For a moment, the desire that flared inside her didn't belong to this stranger's touch. It belonged to Ethan. Had he really changed? Or was it only now - when his attention had begun to turn elsewhere - that she was beginning to realize it?
"I will do whatever it takes to remind him who he belongs to," she whispered, her eyes slowly opening. The masseur's hands continued their slow, deliberate movements. But Celeste's mind was no longer here. It was somewhere else. With Ethan.
Celeste held her breath slightly as the warmth of the hands spread over her back. As the masseuse increased the pressure, sliding down both sides of her spine, it should have completely relaxed her, but instead it only deepened the chaos in her mind. Ethan. There was a truth that Elizzia didn't know. He wasn't just her "son". He belonged to her. Ethan knew it too. He knew it better than anyone.
Celeste's mind suddenly drifted back to that night. The first touch. Ethan's gaze... Even before everything else, those eyes had pierced her. At first she thought it was an illusion. Maybe just a fleeting illusion... But she could never forget how Ethan had touched her that night, how possessively, how desperately he had reached for her. When Ethan's strong hands had run over her skin... For the first time, she had felt him looking at her as more than just his mother.
The night had descended on them like a storm. It was hot, stifling, yet inevitable. When Ethan's skin touched hers, Celeste knew that nothing would ever be the same again. And Ethan knew it too.
When the masseuse's hands reached her waist, fingertips brushing dangerously close to the curve of her hips, Celeste's breath quickened. It was annoying that this touch reminded her of Ethan. Because Ethan's warmth was something else entirely. No other touch could compare to that night.
When Elizzia noticed Celeste unknowingly biting her lip, she smiled mischievously. She was provoking her. "You said you were jealous of Ethan, but I have a feeling there's more to it than that."
Celeste narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at Elizzia out of the corner of her eye without lifting her head. Knowing things that Elizzia didn't, only made her possessive desire grow stronger. "It's not jealousy, Elizzia," she said, her voice soft but laced with unspoken tension. "Ethan is mine. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Elizzia raised an eyebrow as if expecting this response, clearly amused. "Do all mothers claim their sons like that, Celeste?" she asked with a gentle laugh.
As the masseuse's hands slid up and down her back, the pressure of the fingers reminded her of the first moment Ethan had touched her. The warmth. The depth of that moment.
Celeste's lips parted slightly; her skin trembled. But it had nothing to do with the masseuse's touch. She remembered the first time Ethan had reached for her. Ethan had always wanted her. It was that night that he realized she was more than just his mother. It was only one night, but it changed everything.
Celeste noticed that Elizzia was still watching her intently, studying her, so she gave her a teasing smile. "Things aren't always what they seem, Elizzia."
Elizzia chuckled, narrowing her eyes as if trying to decipher Celeste's secrets. "Is that so?"
As the masseuse's fingers pressed into her back again, Celeste closed her eyes. For a moment, all that existed inside her was Ethan. And Ethan would always be hers.
As Celeste relaxed on the massage table, she felt the relief of the pressure on her body intertwine with the turbulence of her thoughts. Elizzia's words slithered into her mind like a snake as the masseuse's hands applied deeper pressure to her back.
As always, Elizzia was not just an observer - she was a provocateur. She knew Celeste's jealousy, her possessive nature, and she fed it with delicate precision. As the masseuse's fingers worked to release the tension in her muscles, Elizzia stoked the fire of another kind of tension in Celeste's mind.
"Ah, Celeste..." Elizzia said, her voice soft but teasing. "I see how relaxed you are. But how long do you think that will last?"
Celeste closed her eyes and felt the masseuse's fingers slide from her back to her waist. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but she knew exactly what Elizzia was doing with this game.
"Why do you ask, Elizzia?"
Elizzia chuckled slightly, patiently trying to break Celeste's resolve. "I'm just curious," she said slowly. "Because every time I mention Lovren's name, I feel a change in you. How do you feel about him?"
Celeste was silent for a moment. Lovren. She couldn't deny that whenever his name crossed her mind, something stirred inside of her. Lovren had recently entered her life, his complex yet alluring energy drawing her in.
But... comparing Ethan to Lovren? It was like comparing the sacred to the mundane. Ethan was the man who truly belonged to Celeste.
"Lovren fascinates me, yes," Celeste admitted, keeping her voice calm. "But Ethan... Ethan is different."
Elizzia tilted her head and grinned. "Different? Then tell me, what do you think Ethan would do if he found out Lovren was getting close to you?"
Celeste pictured it in her mind. The rising anger in Ethan's eyes. His conflicted, uncontrollable jealousy. But... would he really be jealous?
Celeste knew Ethan better than anyone else. She knew his need to own everything, his instinct to protect what was his... But at the same time, she thought of the other women in his life. Aurin. She had been a part of Ethan's world for some time now, one of the valued players in his games of pleasure. Always there, always giving Ethan exactly what he wanted.
Celeste felt a sudden, undeniable pang of jealousy. It was always the same. She had to watch Ethan with other women. And there was nothing she could do about it. Because Ethan was a man that every woman wanted. Especially now, in his current position, he was more irresistible, more powerful, and more unattainable than ever.
Elizzia had noticed Celeste's jealousy. She let out a soft laugh, leaned forward slightly, and whispered in a teasing tone: "See? Lovren excites you, but Ethan... Ethan ruins you. So which one are you going to run from? And which one will you surrender to?"
Celeste opened her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. "You're not running from Ethan, Elizzia."
Elizzia laughed. "Ah, yes. And you wouldn't let him run away from you either, would you?"
Celeste's eyes gleamed slightly. Elizzia always knew how to touch the deepest parts of her. Ethan is mine. Her voice was calm, but the storm inside was unmistakable.
As the masseuse's hands gave her one last pressure before withdrawing, Celeste's mind was consumed by a single thought. Ethan.
And who he truly belonged to.
As the masseuse's hands moved upward from Celeste's feet with flawless contact, she felt that each touch was made with deliberate precision. The pressure was just right - neither too much nor too little. The rhythmic movement of his hands seemed designed to release the tension in her body, but in Celeste's mind it elicited a much deeper resonance.
She noticed that the tempo slowed for a moment as the masseur's fingers slid up her legs. It was as if the man had sensed an invisible boundary. He was approaching that fine line, but he didn't dare cross it completely. It was up to Celeste to draw the line.
Then something happened.
Unconsciously, Celeste gripped the edge of the bed with her fingers, her breathing getting heavier without her realizing it. Her body seemed to be under her control, but her mind... her mind was playing tricks on her.
The masseur's hands moved with greater purpose now; each touch carried a rhythm, a purpose. Celeste's body began to respond to the contact. A soft, muffled sigh escaped her lips. The sound faded into the silence of the room, and when Celeste noticed it, her cheeks flushed. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. She wanted to give in to her senses.
This went on for a while. As the masseur's hands worked to release the tension in Celeste's body, she let herself melt into the moment. Slowly, of her own accord, she turned onto her back. Her hands drifted unconsciously to her breasts, her fingers roaming her skin as if rediscovering her body through this touch. Was this an attempt to regain control or was it total surrender? Even Celeste wasn't sure.
And then her gaze shifted to Elizzia.
The woman was still there, silently watching her. Elizzia's face wore that ambiguous expression - satisfaction? Jealousy? Or maybe just the strange pleasure of being part of this moment? When Celeste's eyes met Elizzia's, the woman slowly rose to her feet. Her movement was graceful, yet there was an air of determination about it.
The masseur seemed to sense this change. The rhythm of his hands slowed, his touches more cautious. Celeste's breathing remained heavy, but the atmosphere in the room had changed. Elizzia took a step toward the bed. And then, with an air of insolence, she leaned over Celeste.
Elizzia's lips curled into a mocking smile. Her eyes glittered with a lustful spark - the look of someone who relished taking control. Her hand slid to Celeste's body, brushing lightly against Celeste's womanhood for a fleeting moment. The touch was both a challenge and an invitation. Celeste's breath caught, her body trembling in response to the sudden contact.
"I want to live you, explore you, Celeste," Elizzia said, her voice low and confident. The words came out of her mouth not as a command, but as a promise. Her insolence was palpable in every syllable, as if she wasn't just speaking to Celeste, but testing her limits.
Celeste's mind froze for a moment. Elizzia's hand lingered there, light yet firm, stirring a storm in Celeste's body. The masseuse had now stepped back completely; the stage belonged to Elizzia. Celeste's eyes locked with Elizzia's. She didn't know what to do - should she surrender or resist?
And at that moment, her mind drifted back to Ethan. Ethan's possessive, unhesitating, commanding touch. His movements that never wavered. But now, here, with Elizzia's brazen presence, everything had shifted to another dimension.
While Celeste's senses were drawn to Elizzia, her mind clung to Ethan.
The air in the room thickened with an unspoken tension as Elizzia's presence dominated the room. Celeste, caught in the web of her own conflicting desires, felt the world shrink to the points where Elizzia's touch met her skin. The boundary she had once guarded so fiercely was crumbling, eroded by the relentless tide of sensation.
Elizzia's hand, once tentative, now pressed against Celeste's womanhood with a deliberate, commanding rhythm. Each stroke was a calculated attack on her restraint, coaxing her body to betray the faltering resistance of her mind. Celeste's breath hitched, ragged and uneven, as the heat within her surged beyond containment. Her womanhood, now drenched in her own surrender, pulsed with an intensity that left her trembling, helpless against the rising storm.
Elizzia's lips twisted into a smirk, her eyes glittering with cruel pleasure. She reveled in Celeste's unraveling, her movements growing bolder, more insistent. The pressure deepened, each caress a taunt, as if daring Celeste to hold on to the last threads of her composure. "Look at you," Elizzia murmured, her voice a velvet blade cutting through the haze. "Falling apart so beautifully." The words dripped with mockery, yet they fueled the fire that consumed Celeste's senses.
Celeste's body involuntarily arched, a silent plea escaping her lips in the form of a low, shuddering moan. She could no longer tell where her will ended and Elizzia's control began. Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles whitening as the waves of pleasure overwhelmed her defenses. Sensing her victory, Elizzia changed her approach. With a slow, deliberate grace, she lifted her free hand, her fingers glistening faintly in the dim light, and brought them to Celeste's parted lips.
Celeste's eyes fluttered, half-closed with desire as Elizzia's fingertips brushed against her mouth. Instinct took over, raw and unfiltered. She pulled Elizzia's fingers in, her lips closing around them with a hunger she didn't know she possessed. The taste was faint, a mixture of salt and something uniquely Elizzia, and it sent a jolt through her already overwhelmed senses. She sucked greedily, her tongue tracing the contours of Elizzia's skin, every move a surrender to the moment.
Elizzia's grin widened, her gaze predatory as she watched Celeste lose herself. As one hand continued its relentless dance against Celeste's womanhood, Elizzia leaned forward, her breath warm against Celeste's skin. Her lips found Celeste's chest, brushing the soft swell of her breasts with a feathery touch that quickly became possessive. She pressed her mouth tightly, a slow, deliberate kiss that deepened into a gentle bite, marking Celeste as hers in that fleeting moment.
Celeste's world shattered. The double assault - Elizzia's fingers in her mouth, her lips on her chest, and the unyielding pressure below - pushed her to the brink. A scream tore from her throat, muffled around Elizzia's fingers as her body convulsed in ecstasy. She was weightless, suspended at the height of sensation, every nerve on fire. Her hips bucked, her drenched core quivering violently as the climax tore through her, leaving her splayed and vulnerable.
Soaked and trembling, Celeste's form shook with aftershocks, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Elizzia withdrew her fingers from Celeste's mouth, trailing them along her jaw with a possessive tenderness. Her lips lingered on Celeste's chest for a moment before pulling back, her expression a mixture of triumph and something softer - perhaps admiration for the wreck she'd wrought.
Celeste lay there, her body a map of sensation, her mind an abandoned battlefield. Ethan's shadow flickered briefly in her mind, a distant echo drowned by the tidal wave Elizzia had unleashed. She had wanted to feel, to surrender - and now she was nothing but feeling, a vessel of trembling flesh and broken will.
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