Page 93 of Black Curtain

Black left my bone-white nylons on, along with the garter.

Inserting himself between my legs, he paused long enough to look down at me.

I was unfastening the front of his tuxedo shirt, which had already been half undone.

When I glanced up, I felt it again.

I saw it on his face too, as it hit both of us how long it had been.

I didn’t even want to think about how long it had been.

Pain hardened his expression, right before his fingers slid inside me. He barely had them there before he groaned and withdrew them. He leaned his head briefly against mine, and his pain ran through me so intensely I couldn’t breathe at all.

“You’re fucking wet, doc,” he said, his voice gruff.

His voice shifted lower, deeper. My eyes closed as my fingers wrapped around his arms. His hands wrapped around my ass over the dress and he yanked me closer.

“You’re really fucking wet,” he repeated. “I’m almost mad at you… walking around the others when you’re this fucking wet.”

I gripped his hair in one hand, and realized it was shorter than it had been in a while. He’d had it cut for our wedding. Somehow, that one small detail, given the rest of it, made my throat tighten, my eyes sting.

His friend died.

His friend died, and he’d gotten his hair cut for our wedding.

He had his cock in me before I could take another breath.

I let out a choked cry.

My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, gripping him there, and I was breathing so hard I thought I might pass out.

He arched into me again, slamming me into the mirror. I heard it crack and let out a gasp, but I only gripped him tighter with my legs. He picked me up, leaning my back against part of the wood, pulling me partly horizontal as he changed the angle to go deeper. His arms cradled my back that time, keeping it off the mirror, and I groaned, raising myself up and then twisting down on him.

His eyes closed.

We were moving then, fucking harder.

He held me against the wall…

…I opened my eyes when he set me back down on the counter. He gripped my thighs and ass under the dress, leaning me into the wood edge, using the counter as leverage.

I couldn’t believe how good he felt.

I couldn’t believe how completelydifferenthe felt.

I felt that disbelief in his light, too.

I had a weird flashback to the first time we had sex, in the hallway between his bathroom and his living room in San Francisco. We’d just gotten back to his penthouse after being separated for months, after he’d nearly died in Paris because of my uncle and my ex-fiancé, both of whom tried to kill him.

I remembered that same disbelief in both of us then.

He angled into me harder and I gasped.

“Gaos.” His mouth lowered to my ear. He threw his body into mine, letting out another low groan.“Gaos.I want to extend. It’s taking everything in me not to extend right now, doc…” He let out a heavier groan, pausing long enough to close his eyes. “I think it’ll be over in about two seconds if I do, Miri.”

Pain rippled through him, and my fingers clenched on his arms.

“Harder,” I urged him. “God… do it harder…”

---