101|A Lost Hero

“Jace…”

“Sh…” I cooed, kissing her quivering lips. Her cheeks were wet from crying. I wiped it away with my thumb as our lips grew frantic, unwilling to pull apart. Her kiss was different. It wasn’t of love but of sadness, of fear. Fear of what? I do not know. “I love you, Aurora,” I said, cupping her face. “I will come back.”

“There must be another way….” She whimpered, pinching her eyes close, setting her hand above mine.

“You know there isn’t. Plus, I get to be the hero in this story.” She shook her head. An outcry followed, and she was snatched away from me.

“No!” I pushed up from the bed, sweat rolling down my skin. Running my fingers through my drenched hair, I exhaled the emotions brought by that dream. This night was different. Usually, it would end with me telling Aurora I would come back. Now I am boasting about being a hero? What the hell does that even mean?

A dream about Aurora was another sleepless night for me. The full moon made me restless. I shouldn’t have taken my chances of getting some sleep. I already knew this would happen.

It’s the only time of the month when I dream about her, a recurring vision that is probably part of my past. I stopped seeking professional help and decided to live with what I have. My memories will come to me in time, I told myself, but that doesn’t mean I am not growing restless as time flies by.

I know my name is Jace; it’s what Aurora called me. It’s practically the only thing I knew about myself.

Three years ago, I woke up in a hut on the shores of Caramoan island. It was a beautiful place in the east, but it became my prison world since I knew no one. A fisherman, Mang Kiko, found me floating in the sea and brought me to his home. I’m still in contact with him if someone goes there looking for me.

I draped my legs on the bed, resting my elbows on my knees, and buried my face in my palms. The moon was bright, its light slipping through the open balcony of my penthouse.

I lived my life with what I have. I survived, but there was still this hollow in my chest demanding to be filled. No money or luxury could fill this void.

Six months into my stay in Caramoan, I discovered a few things about myself. I was good at hunting, weaponry, and anything to do with knives and guns. I feared that I was some kind of criminal on the run, so I approached the US embassy and sought their help. It took a lot of courage since I might go to jail if it turned out I was a criminal. But I wasn’t.

I don’t even have records with them, legal and criminal. I was no one.

I continued living in Caramoan until I met Cristos. He ran a security company and offered me a job. He helped me step into US territory a year ago. Now I am working as a bodyguard, and I excel at it. In fact, I was one of Cristos’ best agents, and he gave me the most challenging task and paid me well.

Warm hands slipped in my middle. Soft body molding against my back. “Another bad dream?”

“Yeah.” I ran my hands over my face. Soft wet lips trailed kisses on my shoulder; her hands wandered lower until she had me hot and hard in her palms. She never fails to make me hard, no matter what situation I am in.

“I know a way to help you relax,” she said, maneuvering to straddle me. She was naked, dark hair wild from our previous coupling.

I smirked, cupping her breast, weighing her perky tits already heavy with need. She arched her back as I pinched her nipple, tugging it towards me.

“Fuck,” she moaned, blue eyes dilated with lust.

I trailed my fingers on her middle, down her taut belly, until I was cupping her pussy, and damn she was soaking. My fingers slipped easily between her pussy lips. Up and down, circling her clit. “Dirty girl,” I pawed her nape, pressing our forehead together. Her mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’ when I curled my fingers. Over and over, I poked at her g-spot. She writhed on my lap, begging for more. I added a third finger, taking her nipple into my mouth.

“Jace…” she whimpered, her nails digging into my shoulder. She was so close, choking my fingers as if she didn’t want to let me go.

“Come, dirty girl,” I grunted, watching her unravel under my touch. “Come for me, Agata.”

~~

AN

Ah... this is a story for another time. Thank you for reading.

xx 5.4.22