Page 125 of The Sun and Her Star

I interrupt her with a bruising kiss and then wrap an arm around her tiny waist, throw her onto the counter and grip her by the back of her neck.

“You wanted my cock, right?” I ask when I break our kiss. She’s panting and answers me by hooking her legs around my hips. I enter with one sweet, electric slide. And then I fuck her like I’ve needed to. I press my face into her throat and close my eyes and let myself get lost in her.

“This is ours,” I speak gruffly into her neck. She whimpers, and I slap her ass. “Say it.” I demand.

“Yes, us … ours. Yes,” she says between sharp intakes of breath. That’s all I need to hear, and I’m coming. I spill into her body and pray that by this time tomorrow, she’ll still be mine.

The Guillotine

Apollo

I wake up to find Graham’s side of the bed empty. I glance at the small clock on our bedside table and sit up in surprise. It’s not even five o’clock in the morning. It’s dark in our room, but I can see a light on in the living room of our cabana. Maybe he’s working. I plop back onto the bed and make myself comfortable. Wherever he’s gone, he’ll be back soon. I stretch and feel the ache in my thighs from last night.

He woke up twice after we’d fallen asleep. He kissed my shoulders and made his way down my back. He lifted my hips off the bed and put his head between my legs. Then he ate my pussy until I was almost delirious with ecstasy.

When he woke me up an hour later, it was with the tip of his tongue as it ringed my nipple. He nestled his hips between mine and captured my mouth in a kiss that muffled our mutual gasps as he entered me.

We made love slowly. His hair falling like a curtain around our faces. Our kisses mimicked our fucking. It was wet, slow, unhurried, and endless. My lips were raw and chapped when he fell asleep with his cock still inside me, and his heavy body draped over me like a blanket.

I loved it.

My body craves him.

My heart adores him.

I’m so happy.

I hear a door close, and I hear the distinct timbre of Graham’s voice. I sit up slowly and wait for him to come into the bedroom. He doesn’t. I get up and pad quietly to the door and open it just a crack. He’s sitting at the desk across the room. His laptop is open.

He’s speaking in hushed tones, but there is dire worry in his voice that is unmistakable. A sickening sense of unease settles in my gut.

“Are you sure about this?” I recognize Amber’s voice and realize they must be on FaceTime.

“Yes. Very. Do you have everything ready?” he asks her.

“Yes. But, for the life of me, I don’t understand why you didn’t tell her. Why you’re leaving …” Amber’s voice is full of disappointment. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You should wake her up. Bring her with you, Graham. You are going to need her.”

“I’ve tried all weekend. I was going to tell her last night and I just couldn’t. I woke her up twice to tell her. Each time, I ended up fucking her like the world was ending instead.” The bleakness in his voice bleeds into me.

“Oh, Graham,” Amber says, her voice now consoling.

“How the hell did she know? How’d she get in front of us?” His voice is a terrifyingly visceral mix of frustration and anger. But it’s hearing him say “us” to her that makes my knees feel like they may not hold out.

Why is he talking to her and not me? That awful claw of jealousy is instantaneously resurrected.

“She’ll leave me when she knows,” he says, and his words propel me forward. I step out from behind the door. Amber sees me before Graham senses me and her eyes grow wide.

“What’s wrong now?” Amber’s eyes move to me and Graham’s shoulders tense as what she’s saying sinks in. Disappointed tears prick my eyes, but I banish them.

“When I know what?” I ask and cross my arms over my chest. He spins around, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. I just watch him with a dispassionate stare. I don’t want to show any of the emotions I’m feeling. Not the anger, not the disappointment, not the fear.

“Apollo, I thought—”

“Yes, I heard. You thought I was sleeping,” I say flatly. “What’s going on?”

“Listen, I want to tell you what I can. But can you wait until … I don’t want to say too much—”

“Say too much?” I interrupt loudly and then take a deep breath to regain my composure. I feel like I’ve traveled back in time. “Why are we back here again? What have I done? Why don’t you trust me? Why are you talking toAmberand not me?” I ask him. My river of anger pours out into a pool of hurt, and I don’t try to hide it.

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