Page 57 of The Sun and Her Star

Fuck me.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“Please …” is all I can croak out as she saunters over to me.

“You don’t have to ask.” She kneels down between my knees and reaches up to run a hand down the center of my chest. I look at her face. Her glassy eyes are trained on my shirt, her grin is giddy. She’s drunk.

I should stop her. But that would mean touching her.

If I touch her,Iwon’t be able to stop.

My heart is thundering in my ears. I’m unable to speak, unable to move and watch as her fingers unfasten the buttons of my shirt. She yanks my shirt out of my waistband and unbuttons the last two. She shoves it down my shoulders and leans into me. Her soft body is warm and a little damp from the shower. Her wet hair brushes my arms as she works my shirt to my wrists.

Then she puts her lips on my throat and presses a kiss to them.

“Mmm, you taste so good, Star,” she hums against my Adam's apple. Then she opens her mouth and starts to suck.

With restraint I didn’t even know I had, I clutch the sheets to keep my hands from grabbing her. She kisses her way down my chest, leaving her bites and bruising kisses all over me.

She shoves me onto my back.

“You’re so damn gorgeous. Your body is incredible, Graham. I touch myself all the time thinking about you.” She runs a hand up and squeezes one of her nipples.

My fingers itch to touch it. I watch it furl and tighten, and I want to pull it into my mouth and suck it until she screams.

She straddles me, one knee on either side of my hips and I can’t help but look down.

Her pussy is beautiful. She keeps it bare. The lips are slightly darker than the rest of the skin around it, and they’re fat. Then she slides her hand down her stomach, and two of her fingers disappear between the folds of her pussy, and she moans.

“God.” She flings her head back, her back arched slightly, and she starts to move her hand. “My clit is so hard, Star … like it always feels when I think about you.” Her hand moves in small circles. And then it moves lower. She opens herself for me, and that delicate pink flesh glistens. I imagine she tastes like sunshine and sugar. That’s what she’s made of on the inside. I’m dying to put my mouth, my hands on her.

I won’t, though.

No matter how badly she says she wants me to. She’ll hate me in the morning.

She’ll hate you anyway.I close my eyes. This is what I do with my clients. It always works. But I can’t keep them closed. Not with her. I can’t detach myself. This feels like I used to think sex would. Her bare skin on mine is electrifying. My cock is throbbing, begging me to set it free. My whole body, my heart, my mind—all are on fire with the need for Apollo.

She lifts up and slips three fingers inside of her cunt and starts to fuck herself. “I have a dildo at home. I sit on it and ride it and pretend it’s your cock inside of me.” She puts her free hand onto my chest for balance and closes her eyes.

I almost weep. The strain of sitting through it is killing me. I want to flip her over, fold her in half and sink my aching cock into her wet, hot pussy.

She starts to call my name, and then suddenly she screams. The expression on her face is that of true ecstasy. But still, I don’t move. Not even when she drapes her bucking body over me, presses her forehead to mine and sobs my name as she comes.

She collapses onto me and we lie there, heaving bare chests pressed together in complete silence. My mind is reeling, my heart is beating so hard I know she can feel it, just as I can feel hers.

My hard, throbbing cock is pressed into her, and even through the denim of my jeans, I can feel the heat of her pussy. I try to adjust my hips, and she gasps. I wait for her to move. A minute later, I hear a soft snore.

“Apollo?” I call softly. When she doesn’t respond, I give her a gentle nudge.

She’s passed out cold. I lie there and try to calm myself down.

The rustle of the sheets is the only warning I have before her warm, supple body is pressed into my side. I tense at her touch, butshe just burrows herself into my side. I glance down, and her eyes are still closed.

This is fine. We’ve done this plenty of times. We’ve always shared a bed, and I like holding her while I sleep. But holding her will never be enough again.

When I close my eyes, all I can see are her swaying breasts. I imagine that I had leaned forward and taken the tip of her breast in my mouth.

I feel like a fucking animal thinking of her like that. Of using her the way those women use me. She’s the only person, besides my mother, who knew me when I was just Graham. She is the last good thing about me. And I’m about to lose her.

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