Chapter Six

“Fuck this,” I said, raising my head slowly, spinning. Spiraling.

Instant regret flooded through me, making my limbs heavy and stiff all at once. I couldn’t move, but I wanted to, I needed to.

I had to get to her. This wasn’t how this was supposed to end.

Why did I think I could let her walk away like that, with so many things unspoken? So many emotions left buried, tucked away so they wouldn’t be identified?

Why did I stay silent when I wanted to scream at the unfairness?

I chortled; who the hell was I kidding? She knew how I felt.

She’d seen through me one time too many; her ability to read me got us stuck in this predicament. Because she got me. Because she dared to look beyond my walls and understand me.

Why the fuck would I let that slip away?

“Because it’ll ruin your career, Silver,” I said to myself as I stood up, legs wobbly, barely keeping me stable. “Because it’ll reveal the truth about your past, Silver. Because it’ll put her in jeopardy, Silver!”

I banged a fist on the desk, then winced at the immediate pain slicing up my arm.

That pain woke me up, gave me the final push.

I wouldn’t let her leave without a legitimate goodbye.

I marched towards my office door, my heart thudding in my chest. Just a few steps, past the threshold, her bedroom awaited, and she’d be inside, packing, crying…

I’d dry her tears. Whisper the words I wanted to say, move her hair out of her face and press my lips to hers.

I’d show her that I cared, though that meant thrusting us deeper into danger. She had to know, before she took off and started her new life, that I wanted this, I wanted her.

If she left thinking I didn’t, that I’d lied…

No, I wouldn’t allow it. I had to hold her, touch her one last time.

I had to trail kisses down her face, her neck, her chest, flick my thumb over her nipples and watch them harden before I licked them. Had to sense her heat swarm around me as she succumbed to me.

I had to get my hands up in her wetness and let it absorb on my skin to leave an imprint forever.

One more time.

The way we’d fucked on the desk the other day—it was still so fresh on my tongue, but I needed a final taste, a proper one. Without having to shove papers out of the way or settle uncomfortably on a hard slab of wood.

She deserved a real fucking. In a bed of rose petals, surrounded by vanilla and sandalwood scented candles, gentle music playing in the background. A soft and slow farewell, with wrinkled sheets and clutched pillows.

She deserved all the orgasms I could give her, to remind her that no matter who she worked for next, no matter who she dated, who she fucked, I would always be her first woman.

I would always be her best.

Or so, I hoped. She’d never confirmed to me that I was her first, but I’d sensed it in her hesitation, in her delicate touches, being unsure what she was doing.

I breached into the hallway, checking the other end to make sure no one was around. Gigi was home, no doubt, and the new chef was surely busy in the kitchen.

We’d been caught, Eden and I, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be caught again.

Eden’s door was partially open; did that mean stay away? Knock? Come in anyway?

I settled for a knock. “Eden?”

Ruffling came from within the room before she surfaced at the door, pulling it open almost too eagerly. As if she’d been waiting for that knock, sensing my growing need from afar.

“Silver,” she breathed, moving aside to let me in. She didn’t question me, didn’t frown or glare or cry harder at the sight of me.

Dried tear stains had left trickles in her makeup, down her cheeks. She’d stopped wailing, but her eyes were still watery, ready to unleash again.

Would she refuse me? I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I’d been cold, pretending that I didn’t care to make it easier on us both. She had every right to hate me for that.

This—entering the room, showing my vulnerability—would make things harder, but it was too late.

I’d made up my mind, and I could only hope she’d agree.

I closed the door behind me.

“I’m almost done.” She gestured at the suitcase of folded pants and shirts, a few pairs of shoes beside it. The closet was open, the red spotlights filtering out in a halo before the door. “I don’t have that much to pack.”

If things had gone my way, she’d have had heaps of new clothes and shoes to bring with her. I’d meant to take her shopping so many times, to show her the luxurious side of her city.

All these things I’d meant to do, and never got around to, because to parade her out like that in public was far too perilous.

I regretted not taking that risk. We’d have ended up in the same spot: here, with her packing to escape me and the danger I brought her; me watching and wishing things could be different.

I wished I wasn’t her boss, and she wasn’t my assistant. Wished we’d met under other circumstances. That we’d been more cautious, more discreet; that we’d confessed our feelings earlier instead of tiptoeing around.

We’d have had longer to prepare for the article dilemma, and we’d have been able to prevent it.

“There’s no rush,” I told her, biting my lower lip as she bent down to pick up a half-folded garment on the ground.

I couldn’t tell if she’d done it on purpose or not, but the angle of her arched spine and the rounded curve of her ass—

I scrambled to turn away from her, holding my breath, fisting my hands in front of me.

“I don’t want to impose longer than I need to,” she said, voice tight.

Against my conscience’s screaming, I spun back to her. “You’re not imposing. You’d never impose.”

Her lips bunched as she attempted to fold the garment, but her hands were too shaky to form any sort of coherent shape with the fabric.

I approached, taking it from her. “Let me help,” I said softly, my breath wisping over her face.

Our hands met, and for a moment I stood there trying to fold the clothing while peering into her eyes, not once blinking. The electricity that shot between us was powerful, rooting us both to the spot.

We said nothing, did nothing but stare, lost and lustful.

“Eden, I…” The clothing slipped from my hands.

“Silver…” She bristled, goosebumps prickling along her skin as our hands tightened, fingers to fingers, palms to palms. “We can’t…we shouldn’t…”

How many times had we uttered we can’t and we shouldn’t in the past few weeks? How many times had we hesitated, stopped ourselves from the enjoyment of one another’s company?

It didn’t matter anymore. She was already gone, if not physically. She would soon be disconnected from me, for good.

Was it so bad that I wanted her now more than ever, a final flavor to keep on my tongue?

“I don’t care,” I said, setting my forehead against hers. “They already got us. You’re already leaving. Does it even make a difference?”

“It…” A whiff of coffee and something fruity blew forth from her mouth as her lips came near mine. “It matters to me. Because if we do this now, here, if we…”

“It’s the last time,” I finished for her, grasping her face between my hands. Her cheeks were hot, her eyes burning into mine.

“But the desk, yesterday—” she cut herself off, and I sensed her pulling away, though I still held her.

I let her go, but she didn’t move, didn’t back off further. “It wasn’t a true goodbye. It was rushed and random and…we can do it right. A proper goodbye.”

“A proper goodbye,” she choked on the words, “with sex?”

I couldn’t help it; I smirked at her. “Do you see us doing it any other way? We started with sex; we’ll end with sex.”

I tickled my fingers along her bare arms, watching her struggle to not react to the sensation.

“Hmm,” she said, somewhere between a moan and a grunt. “But is it…isn’t it wrong?”

“We’re already in the wrong,” I said, tilting her chin up, brushing my lips over hers. “Would it be so bad to fuck one last time, Eden? Do you not want to, or are you holding back?”

“Holding back,” she said, so low in her throat I didn’t recognize her. “Of course I want to. But giving in…it’ll hurt.”

I kissed her. “We’re already hurting.” Another kiss. “Might as well comfort each other.” One more kiss, this time teasing my tongue into her mouth, then pulling it out when she was about to respond. “But if you don’t want to…”

I began to move backwards, but she seized my wrist, drew me close to her again with unknown force. “I want to.” She kissed me. “I want you.” Her turn to tease me with her tongue, to leave me yearning for more. “But I’m scared.”

I eased one hand through her curls, fingertips pressing to the back of her scalp to bring her mouth nearer. “You’re safe.”

“I meant,” she winced, “scared of losing you. Scared of what happens…after.”

My heart pinched in my ribcage. I had to be stronger; I had to be firm.

I felt the same way. I, too, feared what’d happen once she set foot outside of this penthouse and never returned.

I, too, wondered if I’d be able to move on after the sensations she created, the permanent fluttering in my chest whenever she was near.

“Whether we do this now, it’s decided, Eden.” Her lips were warm, soft. Inviting, but tentative. “So it’s up to you if you want to go out on a high or keep packing by yourself and leave without another word. Without another touch.”

The space between my legs started to vibrate.

“Fuck,” she said, her hands coming behind me to grab my ass. “Fuck it all, then. Fuck me.”

In seconds, our clothes were off, piled on the floor near her other piles meant to be tossed into her suitcase. Our panties were thrown aside, our bodies atop one another in a hot flush of sweat and tangled limbs and desperate kisses.

We fought for dominion, for who got to sample who first.

I let her win. She nestled between my parted legs and ran a finger along my wet pussy, licking her lips.

“Forever,” she said, her tongue sliding between my folds in one languid movement. “I’m going to remember this taste forever.”

I shuddered at her touch, my legs so jittery I worried about choking her with their thickness. “Good,” I said, refraining from pushing her mouth to my center, from begging for more of her tongue.

“And you’re going to remember how fast I make you come,” she said, with another flourish, another sizzling brush of that tongue over my clit.

I was about to chastise her, but she buried into me and lapped me up like ice cream on a sweltering summer day. She found my best spots and focused on nothing but my pleasure, going and going and going—

“Ahhhh,” I let out, my climax intense with tremors along my spine, a gentle numbness between my legs.

She slowed her pace, letting me come down. “Record,” she said, with adorable amusement in her tone. “That was, like, thirty seconds?”

I scoffed, pushing her off. “You’re lying.”

She wasn’t. So absorbed in my arousal, in how her deft tongue took care of me, it had taken no doubt less than a minute before I exploded over her lips.

I lifted up, bringing my mouth to those lips, sampling myself on her. “Mmm,” I lowered my hand to her breast, “I taste fucking hot on your tongue.”

She tried to fight me, tried to get to my pussy again, but I was larger than her and wouldn’t allow it. She perched before me, melting into the mattress as I toyed with her nipple.

I sat up completely and wrapped around her, bringing us close, nose to nose, my legs over hers. The position brought our centers together, nearly touching. If one of us were to twist a certain way, we’d be scissoring.

The heat from her pussy overwhelmed mine, and I might have climaxed again at the proximity. I continued to play with one nipple and took hold of her other, drawing it into my mouth.

“Fuck, Silver,” she said, trembling under my touch. Her hips were thrusting, her need to collide with me desperate. Her body was demanding, and I wanted nothing more than to answer, to provide.

I hadn’t done it in a long time—scissoring—but I figured I’d give her the full experience of being with a woman who knew her shit. Something to remember me by; the woman who showed her that this position often seen in porno movies was more complicated than it looked.

But oh, it felt so fucking good. To rub against her, to sense our drenched centers, our bodies clenching and unclenching and preparing to collapse over the edge—bliss.

I positioned us in a way that all she had to do was sit, legs spread, as I glided my clit up and down against hers. It was methodical, and took practice; thankfully, I’d had enough experience to make it pleasurable for her.

Her eyes went from round to slitted to round again, and she glanced down to watch our bodies in action. “Silver,” she mumbled, placing her hands on my breasts as they bounced with my movement. “Silver, yes.”

“Yeah?” I was so concentrated on her that I hadn’t realized my own body’s pulsations, the delicious tension about to snap below.

“Yeah,” she said, her words a gust of wind, her fingers kneading me, like holding on before a big drop on a roller coaster.

“You like that?” I rubbed slower, in more languorous fashion, ensuring our centers swelled against one another. It sent shockwaves through my legs, and it grew harder to concentrate on her.

“I…do, yes.” Her arms were unstable, and her massaging of my breasts was uneven, as if she could no longer quite focus on what she was doing. “It’s making me…I think I…”

“Faster?” I resumed the pace and watched as her eyes widened like saucers and her mouth opened in a silent o.

She couldn’t speak, so she nodded. The fast friction was what she craved; the rush to a climax, for us to both lose control and fall into one another.

I obliged, giving her what she wanted. And by default, what I wanted, too—her conclusion was my conclusion. Her cry of “yes, yes! I’m coming!” was what made me come.

As our bodies came down from the extreme high, we sat with our legs entwined, catching our breaths. No moving, no talking, not even looking at each other. Just indulging in all our senses, letting them settle back into place.

We were in place. Two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.

But we were from a different puzzle. We weren’t supposed to fit, never meant to discover this fortunate mistake.

This time, our fucking felt like a real goodbye. It felt like lovemaking; luscious eye-contact and communication and precious touches. It was smooth, sexy, tangy at times but oh-so-perfect.

It cemented the fact, for sure, that our feelings had gone beyond physical. We didn’t need to say it out loud—the emotions were there, a hazy, sparkly fog that encircled us, keeping us tied together though we’d soon be apart.

Maybe, maybe we’d come out of that fog together. Maybe there was a way for us to be together in the end.

I didn’t want to hope; with my luck, this was our last time. And if that was the case, I’d savor it forever.

When I thought of her, in the future, this would be what I’d picture. Not her walking away, but her seated between my legs, naked, moaning as I rubbed up on her.

These feelings were deep and scary, painful to keep, more painful to let go of.

But I would let go, because it was the only way for us both to survive this scandal. It was my libido that’d gotten us into this mess. So it was up to me to make the correct reparations.

I’d let Eden go, and if she came back someday, then it was meant to be.

If she didn’t…only time would tell if I’d ever open my heart again.