Page 52 of Monarch
“You’re so beautiful, Roos,” I grit out so only she can hear. “And you’re such a good girl. You took all those lashes so brilliantly. Your body has never looked better, all pink and red and hot for us. For the whole room. They couldn’t take their eyes off you. They still can’t. Everybody is here because of you. Everyone is so fucking turned on because of you. You did this, sweet Roos. You made us all so fucking horny.”
“I did?” she stutters.
“Oh, yes, baby girl, yes, you did. Every single person in this room wants to fuck you. Kiss you. Hold you. Feel you.” She sighs. “But I’m not going to let them. Not right now. Right now, you’re mine. This body is mine,” I briefly squeeze one of her tits before returning my hand between her legs. “You are mine to share, and right now, I don’t want to.”
“Hmmm,” she moans, and her stomach tenses. She’s close.
“This orgasm is mine. This night, it’s ours. We will always have it. No matter what happens, tonight will always be ours.”
Her eyes dart open. There’s a question in them, but I squeeze harder, working my hand faster, and her lids flutter closed again.
“Tonight,” she pants, “will always be ours.”
“Yes, baby girl. Yes.” I kiss her lips, and she tries to return her stroke of my tongue, but it’s messy. She’s losing control, and her body starts to tremble.
“Oh, fuck, I – ” She sucks in a sharp breath.
“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you. I’m right here.”
She comes with a yelp. Part-scream, part-moan, part-squeak, it’s the most perfect sound. And the way her body shakes beforerelaxing completely, practically melting into me, is the most perfect feeling. I’ve totally forgotten about everyone else in the room. For a long time, it’s hard to remember them. She’s so fucking perfect for me. And maybe, if this is how we are when we’re together, I’m perfect for her too.
Which is why the conversation I know we have to have is going to hurt like hell.
*****
I don’t know why I’m surprised QISS has aftercare rooms, but the surprise quickly passes for gratitude. The space we’re in is not a large room, and it’s designed like a small hotel room, with a king-sized bed neatly made in the centre of the space facing a panel of black glass that conceals a bathtub and free-standing shower. There’s also a sofa, a glass-fronted fridge filled with drinks and snacks, and several baskets of items on top of shelves that house blankets, towels, robes, and plain white T-shirts in no fewer than seven different sizes.
Upon entering, I was quick to lay Roos on the sofa and cover her with a blanket, and then I made filling the tub my second order of business. As the water ran, I rummaged through all the available baskets and retrieved bottles of water from the fridge. I sat next to Roos and made her down one in its entirety while I sipped from the other. I then offered her a chocolate bar or some dried fruit. She nodded at the fruit, and I fed her slices of dried mango in silence, but for the rushing of the water filling the tub.
And now we’re sitting in that bath together, facing each other at opposite ends and still silent. Slowly, I can see Roos returning to herself, to Earth.
“How are you feeling?” I ask when I think she is ready to talk.
“Good.” She smiles and then winces as she shifts her weight. “But fuck, my butt hurts.”
“I’m not surprised. I found aloe vera and arnica for after the bath.”
Roos hums contentedly. “You’re good at this,” she tells me with half-lidded eyes. “And you were good out there on the stage.”
“I enjoyed myself,” I say simply, but I lock her compliment away inside me.
“You knew exactly what I needed.” Roos’ stare is a little bit more intense. “I’m so happy I met you, Mari.”
I swallow. I’d rather we were dry and dressed and that Roos had eaten some more food, but I can’t not respond to her comment. Or rather, I can’t reply to it ingenuously.
“I’m happy I met you too,” I say, holding her gaze. “I can’t help but wonder if it was fate, you know. Us meeting. Even if it was…you-know-who that led to us meeting.”
Roos’ lips flatten into a straight line, and she starts to play with the thick clouds of bubbles that float in front of her. “I don’t want to talk about xem.”
“Neither do I,” I say quickly. “But I do want to talk about us.”
“Oh?”
“I think I’m going to stay in Amsterdam,” I say carefully.
Roos’ eyes brighten and her lips twitch, just like I hoped and just like I feared.
“I need to do this,” I continue. “I need to prove to myself that I can do this, start over somewhere completely new. Away from my mum and Dove and my dads and the place I’ve worked for, like, eleven years already.”
