Page 35 of The Unraveling

It’s a luxurious oasis, a lavish retreat from the hustle and bustle of the city outside. The foyer is adorned with ornate, gilded accents that glimmer in the soft light of the crystal chandeliers. The walls are draped in plush, deep-hued fabrics, and the floors are lined with sumptuous carpets that cushion each step.

The room itself is expansive, with soaring ceilings and massive windows that would let in a flood of natural light during the daytime. The furnishings are decadent and indulgent, with plush velvet sofas and armchairs, intricately carved wooden tables, and massive, ornate mirrors that reflect the opulence of the space.

I go to the bedroom, where a grand four-poster bed dominates the room. It’s draped in swaths of silk and satiny linens that whisper against the skin when I touch them. The bed is flanked by intricately carved side tables, each topped with a glittering crystal lamp that casts a warm, amber glow across the space.

The bathroom is a marvel of modern design, with gleaming marble floors and counters, an enormous Jacuzzi tub, and a spacious glass-enclosed shower that’s big enough for two. Soft, fluffy towels and plush robes are neatly arranged on heated racks, ready to envelop guests in their soft embrace. Overall, the room exudes a sense of timeless elegance and indulgence, offering an escape from the ordinary and an opportunity to revel in the luxury of the space.

My life with Jordan was not glamorous. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t this. I’ve never really had this. It happens sometimes that I attend a gala for my company, something like that. But this is not my usual. It impresses me.

He walks up behind me and we both sip from our martinis. It’s awkward, but in a way that amuses me. I laugh.

“Now look who’s laughing,” he says.

This cracks me up further, and that makes him laugh.

When we finally start to catch our breath, I say, “I can’t believe we’re here right now.”

“No? It was your idea, wasn’t it?” He sets down his martini and takes a step toward me.

“Yes,” I say, as I take a deep breath and set my drink down as well.

And then I feel my smile fade as our eyes lock. His gaze drops to my lips and I step toward him fast, just as he reaches out to pull me toward him.

We crash into each other, into an urgent kiss. His strangeness intoxicates me further.

As we kiss, I feel like I’m in a dream. It’s a strange feeling, like I’m watching myself from a distance, but at the same time, I’m completely present in the moment. His lips are soft and warm, and they fit perfectly against mine. I can feel the heat between us, and I sense that we both want more.

Our hands race over each other’s bodies, my fingers frantically unbuttoning his shirt, his hand pulling up my lacy top, eventually pulling it over my head. My hair cascades over my face and he pushes it out of the way.

I let out a sound of desire as he kisses me again, letting his now-unbuttoned shirt fall to the ground.

He presses against me and I feel his hardness against my lower abdomen.

“Fuck,” I say.

Effortlessly, he unsnaps my bra. He then picks me up and carries me to the bed, throwing me down on it. “God, your body is beautiful.”

“I’m a ballerina,” I say, my voice practically a whine of desire.

“Really? In London?”

“Yes.” I breathe heavily, lowering his mouth to my breast. He envelops it, his tongue warmly thrashing against my nipple. My hands run through his hair as I say, “Bite me.”

He does it, just a little past gently, and it feels good.

I kind of want to be dirty and a bit rough. I’m sure it’s a reflection of how dark and fucked up everything around me has been lately, and that any therapist worth their salt would have a field day with me. But I don’t care what the reasons are.

“Harder,” I say.

He obeys, then moving to my other breast and doing the same to me there.

“Harder.” I breathe heavily and push my breast into his mouth, as much as I can. “I want you to leave a bite mark around my tit.”

He groans happily and bites me hard. I gasp. It’s really fucking hard, but I like the pain of it.

A moment later I pull him up and climb on top of him, taking in his incredible physique, my wetness against him. I undo his belt and step off the bed to pull off my own leggings, leaving them in a heap on the floor with his pants.

I pull off my thong and then tear off his briefs.

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