Page 25 of Curiosity

As Elias kept moving, the orgasm kept hitting me in wave after wave, even after he grabbed me at the hips to slam into me one last time whenhecame.

On, and on, and on.

It took me a bit to realize that the car had stopped.

We were in front of my house, still catching our breath.

When he sat back, I looked between us, wanting to see his dick covered inme,illuminated by the streetlight. But as he pulled out, I looked away, horrified.

He was covered inmefor sure.

“Oh my God – I’msosorry. My period wasn’t supposed to start for several more days – you can come inside and clean up, and I can wash your—”

He shook his head, sitting back.

“Celeste… I can’t come inside. You have to go.”

He wouldn’t look at me.

“Elias. I’m—”

“Go,” he growled, and I didn’t waste time grabbing my purse and yanking my dress down, scrambling out of the vehicle with my shoes barely on my feet.

There was no way I wouldn’t look like the unfortunate victim of a severe crime if any of my neighbors glimpsed me outside. I made it to my front door as fast as I possibly could, digging my keys from my purse in record time.

Elias was already gone by the time I made it inside.

Six

Ididn’t want to show up at the gallery event.

That would’ve been beyond childish though – we were all grown, things happen.

Except, that particular thing, in that particular circumstance, with that particular look he gave me – or wouldn’t give me, actually…

Suffice it to say, days later, it was still on my mind.

There had been no surprise pop-ups, no random demands for my presence at dinner – I was halfway expecting the contract to be canceled.

Of course, no such thing happened.

I arrived at the Black Gallery when I was supposed to, Irina greeted me normally and showed me to the kitchen, I met sous chef and waitstaff for the night, and…

I cooked.

Beautifully light, small plates, clear opulence.

Exactly the vision Elias had in mind.

While I was working, I rarely had the unfortunate experience of being worried about anything, and tonight was no exception – I could get lost in the breakdown of each individual task.

It was soothing, honestly.

“Running low on the fresh whipped cream here!” my sous chef called, which made me happy – I’d tried to make it clear, when I wasn’t alone in my kitchen, I ran it with a community vibe – if you needed something, just say so. I was finished with the candied lemon peel that would top the desserts she was plating – I handed her those so she could start utilizing, then moved to the fridge to get another tub of the whipped cream so I could join that station with her.

We were almost done.

As I approached the refrigerator, though… I noticed the door was slightly ajar.

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