She couldn't seem to get any words past the moans he was coaxing out of her. He knew exactly where to touch and how: slipping a hand from her waist to the small of her back, and then squeezing just a little; cupping her right breast, sucking or pinching hard on her left nipple just the way she liked it; the speed that his fingers thrust into her, how they curled and nudged all the right spots, leaving her speechless. As much as she liked being the one on top, it just felt so good, so natural, to let him dominate her.
He worked her so well that by the time he hooked his arms under her knees, spread her legs and pushed into her, it took only a few thrusts before she cried out, her insides pulsing around him.
"You came so quickly." His voice was black silk. "Were you that pent-up without me?" He kissed her deeply. "If that's the case, you can't have had enough yet."
He pulled out and, with a swift gesture, flipped her onto her belly, then covered her body with his. As he penetrated her again, he showered soft, slow kisses on the side of her face, her neck, and her shoulder. Following her moans, he found the right moment to slip his hand under her to rub her clit, and held her close as she came a second time. She was still quivering when he rose to his knees, grabbed her by the hips, pulled her backwards and up, and filled her once again.
She lost track of the number of times he made her come, but by the time he was through, she felt like her legs had turned to jelly. It was some time before she was able to muster enough energy to head unsteadily to the bathroom, leaving him to doze off on the bed.
...
"K. Wake up."
He drifted slowly up from the depths of post-coital slumber to find her kneeling on the bed beside him, the robe wrapped tightly around her once more. Closing his eyes again, he moved to curl around her legs, kissing her knee and burying his face in the side of her thigh.
"You're the one that should be coming to bed," he mumbled. "It's late."
"You need to go."
"But I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow."
"Keary, listen to me. You have to leave. Now."
"Hmm…" He nuzzled closer. "Don't want to."
Silence. Then: "I'm getting married in the morning."
The silver eyes blinked open, suddenly wide awake. "Seriously?" He sat up. "You're kidding, right?"
Her face held an expression he had never seen on her before. The look in her eyes carried a different flavour of resolution and… guilt.
Under his stare, she flinched; another action that was strange coming from her. He turned in the direction of her averted gaze and felt his throat constrict when he saw the white satin gown hanging on her wardrobe. When was that there? He had been so focused on her that he had completely missed it.
"Of all nights…! You disappear for months without a single word and then suddenly just show up? Do you have any idea how worried I was? You should have called before you came over!" she cried, her thoughts a mess. Then she gathered herself. "But it's alright. It's fine. Nobody needs to know about this. If you leave now, we can just pretend that none of this ever happened. I'll–"
"What's he like?"
"What?" She stopped, startled. "He's pretty good-looking, well-built, well-to-do. Gentlemanly. Respectable family. He's a couple of years younger than me, but he knows what he wants."
His silver eyes searched her before he spoke again. "Is he good to you?"
"Good? Yes… yes, of course." A note of her usual imperiousness slipped into her voice. "Do you think I would settle for anything less?"
Keary didn't respond, didn't comment on the traits she had listed, didn't say anything about how quickly she had moved on. Staring at the gown, he realised too late now that he had been wrong to assume that they would be able to continue this arrangement indefinitely, keeping the loneliness at arm's length with their romps and exploits.
But reality had come calling. She had a body-clock to answer to, honour and family to win back, a dream to chase… while he was just a lost boy less than half her age.
Silently, he rose from the bed, fixed his clothes, and bent to pick up his coat. Without another look at her, he left the room and headed for the door.
Something twisted inside her chest. Even though she knew it was impossible for things to remain the same in any way, she realised she couldn't bear to let him leave like this, couldn't stand the thought that she wouldn't see him again. It made her want to catch him in her arms, caress and soothe him, make him promises she already knew she wouldn't be able to keep.
"Keary, wait!" She flew to the dark figure and flung her arms around him, pressing herself tightly against his back. "Don't be like this, my darling. I wanted to tell you, but we got too caught up in the moment. It's just for tonight that you can't stay, because things start early for me tomorrow. We'll still see each other sometimes, won't we? We can still–"
"Nah." He extracted himself from her embrace without turning around. "Let's be honest: neither of us have any use for an arrangement like this in your new life." His hand on the door handle, he paused. "Anyway, congratulations. I hope you'll be happy at last, E."
The words, like the leaves falling from the trees outside, clung limp and dead to the quiet in the room, long after he walked out alone into the cold, dark night.
...