Never Had You Until Never

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the bar, a relentless rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart. The neon sign outside, flickering intermittently, cast a sickly green glow across the sticky, dark wood of the tables. The air hung thick with the scent of cheap beer, sweat, and something vaguely floral, likely a desperate attempt to mask the other two. I’d been nursing a whiskey for an hour, watching the faces around me, searching for something, anything, that resembled the ghost of what I’d lost.

He’d called himself Damien. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, a smile that could melt glaciers, and a touch that left me breathless and aching for more. We'd met at a dive downtown, a place where desperation and loneliness found refuge. It wasn't love, not really, but it was something raw, primal, and undeniably powerful. We'd spent three glorious, chaotic days lost in each other, fueled by stolen moments and whispered promises. Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. He left, vanished without a trace, leaving behind only the lingering scent of his cologne and a void in my soul.

Now, here I was, drowning my sorrows in this dimly lit hellhole, hoping against hope that he'd return. The bartender, a hulking man with a shaved head and a permanent scowl, slammed a fresh pour of whiskey in front of me. "Rough night, friend?" he grunted, his voice gravelly from years of shouting over the din.

"You have no idea," I muttered, taking a large gulp of the amber liquid. The burn was welcome, a temporary distraction from the gnawing ache in my chest.

Suddenly, the door swung open, letting in a gust of rain and a wave of bodies. A man stepped inside, shaking off the water and scanning the room with an air of casual arrogance. And then, my breath hitched. It was him. Damien.

He looked older, harder, but the piercing blue eyes were unmistakable. He moved through the crowd with a predatory grace, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the bar before settling on me. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, a familiar curve that sent shivers down my spine.

He made his way towards my table, dodging elbows and jostling shoulders. As he drew closer, the floral scent, the one I’d clung to so desperately, intensified, confirming my suspicions. He was still wearing the same cologne he always did, a potent blend of sandalwood and spice.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. "Looking for something, darling?" he purred, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my very core.

"Just hoping you'd come back," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the music.

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to shake the foundations of the bar. "Hoping? You should have known better. Some things are never meant to be rekindled."

"But I want you," I pleaded, reaching out to brush my fingers against his arm. The touch sent a jolt of electricity through my body, igniting a fire within me.

He pulled me closer, his body radiating heat and an undeniable energy. "Desire is a dangerous thing, my dear. It can consume you entirely."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "Let me show you just how dangerous it can be."

He began to unbutton my shirt, slowly, deliberately, each movement a deliberate provocation. The buttons slid down my chest with a soft, sensual sound, revealing the lace bra beneath. The sight of my bare skin ignited a frenzy within me, a desperate yearning for connection, for release.

He took my hand, his fingers interlacing with mine, and pulled me onto his lap. He positioned himself above me, his weight heavy and insistent. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils, intoxicating me, drowning out all other thoughts.

His hands moved down my body, exploring every inch of skin with a masterful touch. He traced the curve of my hips, the swell of my breasts, the delicate arch of my back. Each caress was a whispered promise, a silent invitation to surrender.

He lowered his head, his lips claiming ownership of my mouth. The kiss was rough, demanding, a primal expression of lust and desire. I moaned, lost in the heat of the moment, my body responding instinctively to his touch.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes blazing with a dark intensity. "You're trembling," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I don't want to stop," I gasped, clinging to him with all my might.

He chuckled again, then began to kiss my neck, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin. My pulse quickened, my body convulsing in anticipation. He moved his hands down my spine, sending shivers through me.

He reached behind me, his fingers finding the strap of my bra. He pulled it free, and the lace ripped slightly as he tugged. The sight of my exposed breasts sent a surge of pleasure through me, a feeling so intense it threatened to overwhelm me.

He lifted me further, his body pressing against mine. He began to grind against me, his movements slow and deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. The rain continued to beat against the roof, but I no longer noticed. All that mattered was the feel of his skin against mine, the heat of his breath on my neck, the raw, unbridled passion that consumed us both.

He pulled away, panting, his eyes filled with a dark satisfaction. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

I could only nod, unable to speak, my body still humming with the aftershocks of our encounter. He leaned down and kissed me again, a slow, lingering kiss that tasted of desire and regret.

Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he pulled away, leaving me breathless and aching. He straightened up, adjusting his shirt, as if nothing had happened.

"Don't get any ideas," he said, a coldness entering his voice. "Some things are best left forgotten."

He turned and walked away, disappearing into the rain-soaked streets of the city, leaving me alone once again in the dimly lit confines of the bar. But this time, the loneliness felt different. It wasn't the crushing despair of a lost love, but the bittersweet ache of a memory, a reminder of the brief, intense connection we had shared.

As I watched him go, I realized something profound. Damien hadn't just taken my body; he'd taken a piece of my soul. And even though he was gone, the memory of our encounter would forever linger, a potent reminder of the intoxicating power of desire. And I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that I would never forget him, never forget the feeling of being utterly consumed by his touch, never forget the desperate longing for a love that could never be. The rain continued to fall, washing away the scent of his cologne, but not the image of his face, not the memory of his touch. It was a mark on my heart, a permanent reminder of the man who had awakened something primal within me, a man who had shown me the true meaning of desire, even if only for a fleeting moment. And in that moment, in that rain-soaked bar, I had truly, truly had him, until the very last, agonizing breath.

Did you like this story? Never Had You Until Never look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.