Page 55 of Forever Mr Black

“One more.”

He pulls out of me an inch and then drives deep inside me. And that’s all it takes. The tension in my body overspills. The climax I’ve been denied all evening hits me full force, consuming me, and I scream. My arms shake; I can barely keep hold of him as the heat courses through my body. He wraps an arm around my back and crushes me to his chest, steadying me through as his hips stutter, and he comes, moaning into my hair and holding me until we’ve both stopped shaking.

He lowers me to the bed, and I close my eyes. I’m worn out—in every sense.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

I nod. Too exhausted to string a sentence together.

He moves off me. Soft sheets cover my body. He drapes a strong arm around my waist. Warm skin slides against mine. I fall asleep.

Sixteen

The world seems different when I open my eyes the next morning, and it takes me a few seconds to realise why. I’m upside down, facing the headboard. I prop myself up on my elbows and glance around the room, getting my bearings. A pair of handcuffs on the parquet floor beside the bed catches my eye, and my mind shuffles through the events of last night. The party. Aisling. The sex … the SEX.

I look at Art, stretched out on the bed beside me, sleeping soundly. Dark lashes frame his cheekbones, and he looks totally peaceful. A world away from the cold, detached man from last night.

I climb out from under the covers and head into the en suite and take a shower. When I return to the bedroom, the bed has been made, and the sound of the shower running is coming from the main bathroom across the hall.

I head to the walk-in wardrobe, pull on my underwear, and slip on a black pencil skirt and cream blouse. Then, I walk into the bedroom and start towel-drying my hair.

“Hey.” Art stands in the doorway. A grey towel is wrapped around his waist. Droplets of water glisten across the tops of his shoulders, and his wet hair is sticking up all over the place.

He looks completely shaggable. I feel a flutter between my thighs at the sight of him.

“Hey.” I smile.

Concerned eyes search my face as he walks up to me. “Are you okay … after last night?”

I drop the towel on the bed and run my fingers through my hair, untangling it. “Yes. Why?”

“I wanted to speak to you about it afterwards, but you were so tired, so I let you sleep.”

“You wore me out … it was intense.” I give him a reassuring smile, but he still looks worried. “And you were right. You were a bastard,” I joke.

But he’s not amused.

“I don’t like being that person anymore. I found it especially difficult to be like that with you.” He rests his hands on my shoulders. “If anything, last night just made me realise how much I’ve changed.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the one to use the safe word.”

He frowns and shakes his head at the memory, like he surprised himself.

“Is that the first time you’ve ever used it?”

He cups my cheek with his hand. “Yes. I couldn’t watch you do what I’d asked. I wouldn’t have been able to take it. I needed you.”

I link my fingers around his wrist and feel his rapid pulse. “And I needed you.”

A sliver of a smile inches across his lips, and he seems a little reassured. “How did you find what we did?”

He’s been honest with me. Done what I asked. Given me a window into his past and the man he used to be.

I need to be honest with him. “It was one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever experienced.”

“You enjoyed it.”

I smile. “I thought you might have guessed by my screams.”

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