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‘Do you trust me?’
My stomach swirls with acid. ‘With all my heart.’
His smile is sensual. A second later, his hands are trailing over my flesh, so light, barely touching me, and I’m crying his name out over and over. His mouth follows them, his tongue flicking my nipples, as he moves lower with his hands, spreading my legs to make way for his mouth.
His tongue is gentle at first, running over my seam, exploring me, rediscovering me. I thrash from side to side, my handcuffed wrists a new form of torture as I ache to touch him or touch myself, to do something to relieve this tidal wave of sensation.
‘Please,’ I groan, incapable of saying anything else. He keeps my legs pinned wide as he sucks my clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue. I am on fire; I am burning up. ‘Please,’ I whimper, needing him, needing more, needing everything.
He pulls away, up my body, his mouth finding my nipples, his hands roaming my skin freely, inquiringly, and I’m so hungry for him I can barely cope. I need to feel him inside me.
‘I want you,’ I beg.
‘I know.’ His smile is tighter now, tension on his face. He pauses, rolling a condom over his length, and hope is a beast inside me.
His eyes hold mine as he pushes his rock-hard arousal into my wet core; my muscles spasm around him and I jerk against the handcuffs, wanting to touch him now, to feel his muscles bunch beneath me as I run my hands over his skin.
His laugh is soft, a caress against my skin. He moves inside me, deeper, and I groan, surrendering to this completely. My body is an instrument and he plays me with perfection.
* * *
Dawn is coming. Even in winter, when the sun rises later, nothing staves off morning’s eventual appearance. I watch him sleep, my own eyes heavy, my mind heavier, my heart a dead weight.
I love him, and I have no hope that he loves me back. For me, this has been completely unprecedented. For Nicholas, this is his life, his norm. I have no reason to think anything has changed for him since we started up with this, whereas all the boundaries of my world have shifted.
My eyes run over his beautiful face, disbelief curdling my insides.
This is so much harder than I thought it would be.
I shift in the bed.
A coffee will help.
I step out quietly, drawing one of his shirts from the wardrobe and pulling it over my nakedness as I prowl through to the kitchen.
It’s snowed overnight. When I look down from the windows, I see the pavement is white like chalk, cars covered in a pale, sparkling blanket. I press a button on the coffee machine, cursing as it stirs to life. Even though it’s quiet, it’s not silent, and I look towards his bedroom door in time to see Nicholas shifting in bed. He looks for me and my heart groans, because I’m his first thought on waking.
How can this be the end?
He disappears from view and a second later steps into the lounge area, a pair of grey boxer shorts low on his hips. My eyes find his tattoo on autopilot; acid coats the inside of my mouth.
‘Is it even morning?’ he asks groggily, his face showing bemusement.
‘I have to get going,’ I say, my own voice tight like a wire that’s been pulled too taut.
His eyes focus blearily on his watch. ‘It’s five o’clock.’
‘I know.’ I pull the coffee from the machine and cup it in my hands. I keep my back propped against the kitchen bench. I hope it looks nonchalant. I hope I seem better than I feel.
‘Come back to bed.’
My heart groans. ‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’
I swallow, focussing on the black liquid inside my cup. ‘Because we said this would be the end. And I have to go.’
I don’t think the stilted statements make much sense, and this is confirmed when I lift my attention to his face. ‘Stay.’
