His voice is far away, but seems to hold a challenge. I stand there, unsure of what to say.
“I’m going to call Edward to take you home,” he finally says.
I find my voice. “No.”
“Dammit, Nikki.”
“I said no.” I move closer to him. “You didn’t hurt me.” I rise onto my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear. “I was wet for you, and you damn well know it. So there’s no way you can say that you forced me.” I hold his arm with one hand to steady myself, but with the other I slowly trace my way over his chest and lower abs until my finger finds the waistband of his briefs.
“No,” he says, but I can hear the quickening of his heartbeat, the tightening of his body in anticipation.
“No doesn’t always mean no,” I say. I ease myself down onto my knees, thankful for the gym mat below me. His cock is straining against the briefs. I find the fly, then tug it out.
“Nikki …”
“I’m going to take care of you.” I run my tongue down the length of his cock, so hard and velvety. I taste salt. I taste me. And I want to take him all the way in. “Sunset,” I say. “It can be your safeword, too.”
Before he can say it, though, I rim the head of his cock with my tongue, teasing it as if it were a very large, very decadent lollipop. He gets harder and harder, and when I’m certain that I’ve brought him close to the breaking point, I draw him in, stroking and sucking and getting myself even hotter in the process.
I can feel the change in his body and I know that he’s close, but then he shifts position, pulling out of my mouth and then drawing me up until I’m pressed hard against him. He kisses me, this time softly and sweetly, then eases us both down to the mat.
I open my mouth to speak, but he presses a finger to my lips. “Shhh. No talking.”
He unties my robe and leaves it open, laid out beneath us as he climbs on top of me. I spread my legs and draw my knees up, and then close my eyes in pleasure as he thrusts inside me.
He moves in a slow rhythm, the complete opposite of the way he fucked me upstairs. This is making love, and his eyes never leave mine. He takes my hand and slides it between our bodies, and his silent command is easy enough to understand. I’m so aroused my body tingles all over, but I stroke my clit, getting hotter and hotter, my rhythm matching his thrusts until, finally, he explodes, and I do, too, just moments after.
Spent, he lays beside me, sharing the silkiness of my robe.
“I’m so sorry,” he says, his fingers tracing a lazy path on my shoulder. “And I’m so angry.”
“At me?”
“No. At me.”
“But why? I thought we already established that what happened upstairs was okay.”
He looks at me, his eyes hot with need. “Because now that I have you, I can’t stand the thought of ever losing you.”
27
Despite the drama, the evening takes a right turn toward normal. Blaine comes and I pose and he paints and Damien sits quietly in a chair and watches for four solid hours. After that we sit and drink wine and watch the moon on the ocean. Damien offers to let Blaine crash on the mat in the gym, and so we repeat the entire thing bright and early the next morning, finally wrapping at nine when Damien heads out for his office.
When I get home around ten, I find Jamie’s note that she’s gone to an audition. I cross my fingers for her and settle in for a lazy morning. Damien’s in meetings until lunchtime, and though I’d rather be snuggled in his bed, I’m also happy to veg with the television, the newspaper, and Lady Meow-Meow.
I make a pot of coffee, tune the television to a classic movie station, and debate whether or not I should do a load of laundry today.
My Man Godfrey is just about to start, and since that’s one of my favorite screwball comedies, I decide that laundry can wait.