Chapter 5
FIVE
STERLING
My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans as I graze my thumb over Friday’s nipple and she arches into my hand. Believe me, it’s taking every last ounce of self-restraint not to rip her clothes from her body, sink inside of her, and give into this attraction between us, an attraction I’ve never felt before.
I’m also fully aware that my request for her to sing for me whilst we’re on the verge of having sex might seem a little odd, but I need to hear her sing again. I need to see the vibrant colours that her beautiful voice evokes within me. I want to sink into her with those colours wrapping around us both and fully immerse myself in all that she is. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.
“Will you?” I repeat.
“I can’t promise I’ll be any good,” she says, her chest heaving as I continue to palm her breast.
“Any good?” I ask, my gaze dropping to the skin of her lower stomach where my fingers still graze her, making her shudder.
“I’m a little nervous.” She lets out a shy laugh as my gaze flicks back up to meet hers. “And entirely turned on. I might mess up.”
“I’m nervous too,” I admit, but not, perhaps, for the reason she might assume.
I’m not inexperienced when it comes to sex, but I wasn’t lying when I said that I haven’t ever brought a woman back to my sanctuary. This is completely out of the ordinary for me. I’m very protective of my personal space and who I allow into it.
“You are?”
“Like I said, you’re the first woman I’ve brought back to my place. I’m…” I heave out a breath. “I’m not a particularly social person, more of a hermit to be honest,” I admit, revealing something so fucking personal to me, that I surprise even myself. “Does that turn you off?”
“Not at all. It’s a relief.”
“How so?”
“Firstly, the fact that you’re not afraid to be honest with me, is attractive. Secondly, I’ve spent my whole life around people who pretend to be someone they’re not, with huge personalities and even bigger egos. It’s exhausting being around people like that,” she adds, slamming her mouth shut as though she’s said too much.
I don’t push her on the subject, or ask her who she’s talking about. Instead I ask, “Do you think it’s odd that I’m asking you to sing instead of taking you to bed?”
She reaches up and cups my cheek, her fingers stroking my skin as she contemplates my question. “Admittedly, your request is unusual , given the current circumstances,” she replies, letting out another soft moan as I gently tease her nipple with the pad of my thumb, “But no, I don’t think it’s odd–” She pauses, gasping, as I lean forward and dip my head to her stomach, brushing a kiss there.
“That’s good to know,” I mumble against her skin.
“I’m actually flattered that you want to hear me sing again,” she continues, her fingers stroking through my hair. “It will make this night even more memorable, I’m sure.”
“It will,” I agree, resting my cheek against her stomach, loving how gentle she caresses me. I’ve never felt more wired, more tense, yet inexplicably comfortable in another person’s presence. That comfortableness is new to me. I like it.
“Your skin is so fucking soft,” I murmur, the tip of my nose gliding upwards, wishing there wasn’t any clothes between us. Reluctantly, I lean back, but not before I press another soft kiss against her lips.
“You really want me to sing right now?” she murmurs against my mouth.
“More than I’ve wanted anything,” I reply hoarsely, forcing myself away from her, giving us both space to breathe.
She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she gets to her feet. “What song?”
“Surprise me,” I reply, my fingers pressing into my still damp jeans as I watch her chew on her lip as she decides, so fucking thankful she’s willing to do this for me.
“I think I have the perfect song,” she says after a beat, stepping back and blowing out a long, slow breath. “Just bare with me, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, wanting to reach out and pull her close, but knowing that if I do I won’t be able to stop there. I’ll want to bury my head between her legs and feast on her pussy. I’ll want to kiss every single inch of her body. I’ll want to find nirvana inside of her. Instead, I grit my jaw, ignore my throbbing cock, and wait.
With one last soft smile, she closes her eyes, presses her palm against the centre of her chest and begins to sing.
“ My God ,” I mutter, as colour immediately forms at the edges of my vision, flowing inwards, twisting and tumbling, merging and shimmering, encasing Friday in so much colour.
My whole body is covered in goosebumps, the uniqueness of her voice tapping into something deep inside of me as I feel her voice coasting along my skin. It’s like an invisible caress that simultaneously turns me on, and ignites another cascade of colour that ebbs and flows with every beautiful, enchanting note that leaves her parted lips.
It takes me long moments to even hear the words she’s singing, but when I do, I gasp. She’s singing Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls in her own inimitable style, and every word is like a declaration of her intentions tonight, and maybe even an insight into the woman she is. She sings softly, the pitch perfectly emotional, and there’s a wistfulness that washes over her as she sways her body.
Enraptured, I notice how she begins to relax as she shares such an intimate part of herself with me, because that’s exactly what she’s doing. Every heartfelt word, every perfect note is a gift bestowed upon me, and I can do nothing more than absorb all that she is. Each colour becomes more intense with every second that passes, so startlingly bright that my heart beats faster and my fingers grasp at an invisible brush, painting imaginary strokes as I watch her.
A familiar magic rushes through my veins as she continues to sing, igniting my creativity. A large part of me wants to rush to my studio to paint, but an even bigger part wants to pull this expressive woman into my arms and lose myself so completely in her .
There’s something so enchanting about Friday. She’s beautiful in a way that’s understated, as though she’s hiding her true self from the world, and fuck knows that someone with a voice like hers should be centre stage singing to thousands of screaming fans, not performing in some dingy club hidden in the back streets of Brooklyn.
“You’re incredible,” I choke out. My need to paint, and my need to bury myself inside of her is tangling up inside of me, making me fucking tremble, making me so god damn hard.
As she sings the last line, slowly opening her eyes to meet mine, the notes quiver in the air between us, thick and potent, and before I can even contemplate what I’m about to do, I’m on my feet. I simply act on instinct as I rush towards her, ducking a little as I place my hands on her hips and lift her upwards. She lets out a surprised gasp as she wraps her legs around my waist.
“Sterling!” She laughs, and the joy she expresses, and the colour that feathers around her is so fucking exquisite that all I can do is be brutally, truthfully honest.
“You’re a work of art, and damn, Friday, I want you. I want you so bad I think I might fucking die if I don’t,” I say, my words harsh, breathless, as I twist on my feet and carry her towards my bed.
She clings onto me, her cheeks blazing, her eyes smiling as I carry her up the few steps to the raised platform my bed sits on, and lower her onto the mattress.
“I need to see you naked. I want to see all of you, every single part.”
What I don’t say is that I want her naked not just because I want to bury myself inside of her, but so that I can imprint the form of her body into my memory, and later, paint her every curve into a vibrant masterpiece on canvas, because she deserves nothing less.
“Then I guess this will be another first for me,” she replies, lifting her arms upwards so that I can pull her t-shirt over her head.
“Another first?” I question, confused a little by her response.
“On the few occasions I’ve had sex before, I’ve never actually been fully naked,” she explains, wincing.
What the actual fuck? I think.
“You’re joking?” I question instead.
She shakes her head as I drop her t-shirt to the floor.
“Let’s just say, the men I’ve slept with have only ever really been interested in their own pleasure, and I guess seeing me completely naked hasn’t ever really been that high on their list of things to do.”
“Damn,” I mutter, my gaze dropping to the plain black cotton bra covering her beautiful breasts. There’s nothing fancy or seductive about it, and yet that piece of material is as alluring as she is. Perhaps because she’s the one wearing it. “How could anyone not want to see you naked? Those men were fools.”
“This isn’t exactly sexy. I haven’t dressed for the occasion. Sorry about that,” she says with a depreciating laugh, shrugging off my remark as I finger the strap of her bra.
“Well, I want to see you . All of you. Take it off,” I grind out, blinking back the fog of lust that seems to shroud me every time I look at her.
She nods, reaching behind her back and unclipping the fastening with shaking fingers. The straps loosen around her shoulders, and I reach forward, sliding them off her arms until she’s bare. Her breasts are a perfect handful, with pink, rosy buds that make my cock leak and my mouth water to taste.
“You’re exquisite.”
“I’m not even fully undressed yet,” she retorts softly.
“Then please do me the honour of showing me everything that you are,” I say, meeting her soft brown gaze once more. “Stand up.”
She laughs, taking my proffered hand and moving to her feet, standing before me. “You’re kind of bossy.”
“Not usually. I apologise.”
“Don’t. I like it.”
“Good,” I say, releasing her hand and dropping to my knees, my eyes level with her navel.
Pressing a kiss against her stomach, I duck lower, reaching for the hem of her jeans, urging her to lift her foot so I can remove her boots. She rests her hand on my shoulder, quiet as I unzip them. Pulling each foot free, I cast the boots aside, then slip my fingers under the hem of her jeans once more as I graze her ankles. She lets out a small whimper as I remove each sock in turn, the palms of my hands pressing against the bridge of her feet momentarily.
“You also have a gentle touch,” she whispers.
“I almost feel as though you might disappear,” I reply, sucking in a ragged breath as I slowly lift my gaze to meet hers. She’s a fucking mirage of colour, a vision of inspiration, a feast for my very soul.
Cocking her head to the side, she regards me. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, reaching for the waistband of her jeans, unzipping them before my fingers curl over the material. Inch by tantalising inch, I slowly reveal her shapely legs, they’re muscular yet feminine and soft.
“Look at you, so fucking beautiful,” I mutter.
“There you go again, flattering me,” she whispers, leaning forward, her hands resting on my shoulders once more as she lifts one foot, then the other.
“Can I?” I ask, discarding her jeans and looking up at her as her hands fall away from my shoulders.
She nods, her eyelids at half-mast as my fingers glide up the front of her thighs, resting on her hips and the tiny stretch marks that are scattered across them. My attention hones in on those pretty silver lines, how they seem to shimmer. So fucking beautiful.
“I– I’ve been heavier,” she mutters, her voice laced with something close to shame as her eyes flit away, but it’s the way her voice trembles that tells me these marks are more than skin deep for her, that there is a story here, a trauma.
“We all have scars, Friday. Mine just happen to be on the inside,” I reply, and she snaps her gaze back to mine, understanding passing between us even if we don’t voice our trauma out loud.
I’m trembling as much as she is, in utter adoration of this woman as I slowly remove her knickers, revealing a strip of neatly trimmed hair, the colour a darker shade of blonde.
“Fuck,” I groan as she steps out of her knickers, baring herself fully to me.
“I’m not sure what to do with my hands,” she blurts out, running her palms over her hips as I stare up at her, utterly transfixed. “I’m not very good at this.”
Her candidness is comforting, it gives me the courage to take the lead.
“Let your hair down,” I instruct, gazing up at her, my face inches from her pussy. Her musky yet sweet scent, making me want to tip my head back and roar like some feral fucking beast.
“Sure,” she whispers, and moments later her hair is free, framing her face in a halo of honey-blonde, the tips hanging a couple of inches below her chin and churning up a topaz blue that only I can see within the strands.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect. You’re perfect .”
“Pretty sure I’m not,” she replies, throwing my earlier statement back at me with a smile.
“Then perhaps we can be imperfect together?” I offer.
“That I can do,” she murmurs in response.
I know if my friend Dalton could see me now he’d be telling me to stop messing about and fuck this beautiful woman into oblivion. But I want to savour the moment. I want to taste her pussy. I want to stroke her glorious skin, and feel how she reacts to my touch. I want to make her come first before I allow myself the gift of sinking inside of her.
“Lie back on the bed, prop your head up on a pillow and spread your legs for me, Friday,” I command, my voice rough.
She chews on her lip, her hair fanning out across the pillow as she lies back on the bed, parting her legs a little. Not nearly enough.
“Wider. Put your feet on the mattress. Let me see you.”
“I feel so exposed,” she whispers, her chest heaving as her cheeks flush. Yet, despite her coyness, she does exactly as I ask, giving me her trust.
“Berry red, my favourite colour,” I say, my gaze focusing on her glistening slit, a shudder running through me at how fucking spectacular she looks baring herself to me like this.
“Oh my,” she whispers, her fingers curling around my deep blue sheets as I kick off my boots and remove my socks before I reach for the zipper of my jeans, sliding them off alongside my boxer shorts. My dick springs free, the tip glistening with pre-cum as I fist my cock, palming the firm length as her gaze drops to my dick.
“Thought so,” she mutters, biting on her lip as she flicks her gaze back up.
I cock my head to the side, a questioning look on my face.
“It’s as though you’ve been carved out of stone,” she explains.
“I’m certainly rock hard for you, Friday,” I blurt out, heat rising up my cheeks.
Fuck, she must think I’m a fool.
“There’s no denying that,” she replies with a soft laugh, not an ounce of judgement in her voice at my stupid remark as she shifts on the bed, moving to reach for me. I shake my head.
“Stay right where you are, I need to taste you first,” I say, pressing my knees against the edge of the mattress as I adjust myself between her legs and kiss her inner thigh.
“Are you sure?”
I lift my head, frowning. “You don’t want me to?”
“Yes, please , more than anything. It’s just…” She brings her hands up to cover her face, but not before I see her blush deeply.
“Just what?” I ask, pressing more kisses against her inner thighs, rising up her stomach until my mouth latches on to her nipple and I suck her beautiful tit into my mouth.
She moans, forgetting my question as I lave her nipple with my tongue, swirling around the tight bud, moving from one breast to the other, sucking and licking.
“Just what, Friday?” I persist, brushing my cheek against her breast, pressing kisses down her sternum, dragging my lips over her stomach towards the place I want to taste the most.
“I’ve only had one person go down on me before,” she admits, “And, honestly, I don’t think he enjoyed it very much. He gave up after a minute. I always wanted to try again…”
“Please tell me you’re lying,” I say, settling between her legs once more.
“I wish I were,” she murmurs, peeking through her hands, her voice trailing off as I press a kiss against her mound unashamedly, the soft curls tickling my skin.
I shake my head. “Whoever that prick was, he clearly has no idea that your pussy is fucking delectable.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“His loss is my gain,” I say, swiping my nose along her slit, breathing her in, shuddering from her scent.
She gasps and I look up at her, the view fucking perfect as I gaze up and over her stomach, meeting her eyes.
“Did you just smell me?”
“Fuck, yes I did.”
She giggles then, and I already know that it’s a nervous kind of laughter, that she isn’t laughing at me but the fact she hasn’t ever had a man do something so fucking feral. Believe me, this isn’t usually part of my repertoire. Usually I forgo talking, given I’m not particularly good at it, and fuck, hard . But there’s something so refreshing about Friday’s reactions to my words, my touch, and I vow there and then that I’m going to show her just what it means to be adored. Selfishly, I’m glad she’s had sub-par sex, because tonight I’m going to show her just what it means to truly feel wanted, and fuck, I want her .
“Do you always say what’s on your mind?” she asks, resting her hands by her side.
“I try not to most of the time,” I reply. “You seem to bring out the worst in me.”
“Not the worst, not at all. Keep doing what you’re doing, I like it,” she mutters, and I reward her with a swipe of my tongue up her slit, her musky taste exploding on my tongue. She shudders, her whole body reacting beautifully.
“Your scent is the perfect mixture of feminine musk and sweet, sweet arousal,” I say, refusing to curb my thoughts given how much she seems to like them.
“You really do have a way with words,” she replies breathily.
I can’t ever say that anyone has said that to me before, and I reward her with another swipe of my tongue, this time dragging the flat of my tongue slowly from crack to slit, swirling her clit before sucking on the tiny nub gently. She gasps, and I groan against her skin, my dick pressing against the mattress as I rock my hips for some relief.
“And you taste delicious, Friday,” I say, lifting my head, and grasping her breast, squeezing gently. “I’m going to eat you out now, then I’m going to kiss you so you can taste yourself, so you know that I’m telling you the truth.”
“Please,” she moans, her hands flying to my head, her fingers curling into my hair, displacing the colour wrapped around her into a plume of jewel-coloured tones of sapphire blue, amethyst purple and rich, emerald green. The more turned on she is, that I am, the deeper, more vibrant the colours appear to be until she’s glimmering in opalescent, iridescent colour.
Fuck, if only she could see what I see; the absolute gut-punching, soul-blinding beauty that ebbs and flows around her, that’s a part of her as much as me.
“Say that again,” I mutter, before burying my face between her legs.
“Oh. God. Please ,” she mewls, her soft pants and slick pussy driving me wild.
I give her everything she begs for. I tease her clit, circling and flicking the tiny nub rhythmically over and over again until she undulates her hips beneath me, moaning in abandonment.
Time seems to still as I plunge my tongue into her quaking cunt, and fuck her beautiful pussy like a man bent on causing havoc, in her, in me. I could stay here forever, tasting her essence, sucking her clit, licking her pussy. I don’t care how long it takes, I’m going to be the first man to ever make her come this way.
So that’s what I do. I work her body, giving in to this complicated, euphoric feeling unfurling in my chest. My synesthesia is potent, and there’s so much colour that I’m almost blinded by the vividity, but I’m not just affected that way. Like earlier at the club, all my senses are heightened. Her scent and taste is intoxicating, the sound of her moans is music to my ears, her touch like electric currents ripping through my bloodstream. I’m wired, bound tight, desperate to fuck her, but I ignore my base needs and concentrate only on hers.
An indefinable amount of time passes, and then like an oncoming storm, her breaths come hard and fast, and her fingers grip the strands of my hair even tighter as she stiffens beneath me.
“I’m going to come, Sterling. Oh my God, I’m going to come!” she yells, entirely overtaken by feeling, lost to sensation. My cock jerks violently, begging me for release, but I refuse to satiate my own indescribable needs before I satiate hers.
Instead, I slip my hand between her legs, and insert two fingers inside of her quaking cunt reaching for that soft, spongy spot deep inside, then flick my tongue over her clit as fast as I can. My tongue aches, my cock is so hard I fear it might snap off, but I need her release. I need to see what happens to the colours that tumble and twist, that fucking soar into the air with every pulsing heartbeat as she climbs higher and higher and higher.
“Sterling!” she cries, her back arching, her body taut like a string as her orgasm hits like a wrecking ball, splattering colour against the headboard, the sheets, the walls, over us both.
Fuck, I have never witnessed anything so fucking vital, so visceral as witnessing Friday come. She’s fine art. She’s an abstract painting personified. She’s so impossibly stunning as her body finally releases, shuddering, shaking, coating in a flush of pink as she orgasms.
I’m so damn close to coming myself, so utterly consumed that I have to push upwards onto my knees and grip my cock, giving it two firm tugs.
“I need to be inside of you,” I stutter out, bending over her body, one hand pressed into the mattress by her head, the other still fisting my cock as I look down at her, mouth parted, chest heaving.
She blinks up at me, her pupils blown wide, her cheeks flush, her thoughts rushing behind her eyes right before her mouth parts. “C–condom?” she manages to stutter. “I mean, I’m on the pill, but…”
“Give me a second,” I grit out, my voice strained, not because of her request, but because my balls are so high and so tight against my body that it’s verging on painful.
Somehow I manage to climb off her and stagger to the bedside cabinet, pulling it open. With shaking hands I grab the pack of unopened condoms, and take one out. Traversing the bed, I rip open the foil, and sheath myself. As much as I’d like to fuck Friday bare, I don’t want her to feel unprotected in anyway. I know I’m clean but now is not the time to be having a conversation about past sexual partners. So condom it is.
“I’m so turned on Friday, this might be quick,” I apologise, climbing above her.
“I don’t care. Please, Sterling, take me,” she pants as she pulls me towards her and kisses me, groaning into my mouth, tasting her arousal on my tongue. My cock hits her mound, dropping heavily against her pussy, and I can’t help but rock my hips, sliding the underside of my cock through her folds.
“You’re certain?” I reply hoarsely, searching her gaze as she reaches between us and guides me to her entrance, the tip of my cock dipping inside of her just an inch.
“Yes,” she whispers, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
“Friday,” I groan, her pussy fisting the head of my cock so tightly that I’m already seeing another wild explosion of colour as I squeeze my eyes shut and just absorb what it means to be joined to her.
“Sterling,” she whimpers back, pleading with me as her fingernails dig into my arse and her lips slide across my cheek, searching for my mouth once more.
Then she kisses me again, rough and hard, her tongue searching, her legs tightening around my waist until I’m pressed right up to the hilt, the tip of my cock hitting her cervix.
“Ahhh,” she cries, adjusting her body to accommodate mine as I edge in a further inch.
“I’ll go slow,” I say hoarsely, my nostrils flaring as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to regain control. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“No! Don’t do that. Please, look at me,” she pants, her voice cracking as she grasps my face, the golden flecks in her eyes like wildfire burning brightly as I snap my eyes open. “I want to know what it feels like to have someone fuck me because they’re here in this moment, with me . I want to feel connected, just this once, please .”
“God damn it, Friday,” I reply, angry at the men who’ve fucked her before, who’ve made her feel this way. “I am here with you. I see you. ”
Fuck, how I see you.
Colours continue to swirl in a vortex around us both, and they’re so unbelievably stunning that I almost cry out in pure joy, but I don’t. I don’t because she’s my focus right now. I want to give her that.
“Keep eye contact with me, okay?”
“ Please , Sterling,” she begs, and there’s something vulnerable in her tone that speaks of a deep wound inside of her.
“Then relax, let me in,” I say, overwhelmed by how tightly her pussy grips my dick.
She nods, her mouth parting as she relaxes.
My restraint snaps, and I slam into her with one hard thrust.
She cries out, eyes fixed on mine as her arms fly above her head and she presses her palms into the headboard to prevent her body being shunted upwards.
I pound into her over and over and over again, desperate to ease the ache in my chest, and heal the wound in hers.
Hard. Fast. Feral. Mindless.
I let it all go. I give in.
My fingers curl into her hair, my elbows pressing into the mattress either side of her head as I give her what she needs, never once unlocking my gaze from hers, and with every thrust of my hips, colour billows outwards like an angry storm cloud begging for my attention.
We’re bathed in colour, she and I.
It licks over our skin, seeps into our flesh, coats us in arousal.
Yet, despite the incredible display of colour, I’m wholeheartedly focused on Friday.
I feel her everywhere .
Beneath my body. Pulsing in my veins. Clenching me tight as I fuck her.
Sensation heightens with every slip and slide of our bodies, with the tightening and loosening of our muscles. Every moan of ecstasy is tormented bliss, and there isn’t a single part of me that isn’t overwhelmed by Friday. Her soft pants, her skin hot against mine, the perfect velvet fist of her pussy clutching me tight, the way she stares deep into my eyes as though she can see into the very depths of my soul.
I’m anchored to her in a way I’ve never felt before, my body a willing prisoner to hers. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve never fucked a woman whilst in the midst of a synesthesia episode, if this is just pure, undiluted physical attraction to Friday, or a recognition of mutual pain, all I know is that I don’t want this to end.
“Fuck!” I groan, pulling back a little so I can grip one of her thighs and throw it over my shoulder, needing to go deeper, needing to feel her come around my cock.
“Sterling, I… Oh, GOD!” she cries as I slam my mouth against hers, devouring her cries of pleasure, absorbing everything about her, tattooing this moment into my memory.
She doesn’t realise it, but she’s drawing something out of me, a part of me that I only allow to take control in the midst of creating my art.
It’s the feeling of complete and utter obsession .
And as that thought buries itself deep into my psyche, another orgasm wracks her body. Her internal muscles ripple then grip me so tightly it’s as though she’s claiming me as much as I’m claiming her.
“FRIDAY!” I roar, unable to hold back a second longer as my own orgasm fires through me, rushing upwards from the base of my spine, and surging through my dick as I empty myself inside of her.
I come so damn hard that for a moment there is nothing but the feeling of bliss as her body wrings out every last drop of cum, her leg on my shoulder falling beneath us.
In that moment, as my body collapses on top of hers, utterly spent, my mind drifts off to some faraway place before I can stop it. It’s a place filled with colour that shifts and reforms into shadow and light, into sharp edges and soft curves as images slowly begin to form.
I see the crook of Friday’s elbow, the soft curve of her stomach, the mound of her breasts, her rounded hips where a few silver stretch marks pattern her skin, the shell of her ear, the arch of her foot, the sharp line of her jaw, the shape of her mouth opened in an expressive ‘o’.
I see Friday, every intricate, detailed part. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Sterling?” Friday whispers, her faraway voice dragging me back to reality.
“Sorry,” I mumble, my mouth pressed against the fluttering pulse in her neck as I drag myself back into the present moment and lift upwards onto my elbows.
“Are you okay?” she asks, gently running her fingers up and down my spine, her touch soothing me as I bow my head and press my forehead against hers.
“Yes,” I manage to croak, then with great effort, I gently pull out of her, settling onto my side.
“You spaced out there for a bit,” she says, turning to face me, strands of her hair falling across her face as she moves.
I reach up, brushing my knuckles across her cheekbone as I push her hair behind her ear, tracing the shape with the pad of my thumb. For a moment my attention is on my forefinger and thumb as I gently massage the lobe of her ear. It takes me a few, deep, even breaths before I can meet her gaze once more.
“Sterling, you seem… Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, frowning a little.
“I’m good,” I lie, because I’m far from good, I’m fucking wrecked in all the best and all the worst possible ways.
“That was intense,” she whispers, shifting closer, brushing her lips against mine.
“It was…” I agree, my muscles liquify, my body becomes heavy as an overwhelming exhaustion pulls at my consciousness, but I refuse to let it drag me under. I don’t want to sleep just yet.
“Was it okay for you?” she asks quietly, looking up at me from beneath her lashes.
“It was more than okay, Friday. It was…” I pause, unable to find the right words.
She smiles softly, nodding in understanding. “It was the same for me too.”
Because we both know that this was more than two strangers seeking release in each other’s arms. This was more than just sex. This is the start of something.
“What’s your full name, Friday?” I murmur after a while, realising that I don’t actually know.
“Love. My name is Friday Love.”
“Friday Love,” I repeat with a smile, my eyes drifting shut as my body finally relents, and I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, her name echoing in my mind.
A sleep that I wake up from hours later, alone, with a note left on my pillow that simply says: “Thank you for seeing me. Goodbye, Sterling.”