Sex isn’t new to Veda, not even like this: lying on their sides with nothing to stop the sighs slipping between them. But Hiram is silentnow that he’s inside her. He touches her like she’s something precious, reverently breathing her in, basking in the moment.
Then he shifts, cradling her as he rolls onto his back and brings her on top.
“Use me,” he says.
Hands pressed to his chest, she begins to move, rising and falling on him. It’s deeper like this, toe curling.
“Take what you need,” he whispers.
She doesn’t need to be told twice. Her control incinerates with a single roll of her hips.
Long suppressed, her desire ignites, movements becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy that make Veda want more. Desire consumes them. Hiram’s body, lean and strong, matches her rhythm stroke for stroke. Everything burns in the best way. Broken moans and bitten-off words mark Hiram’s command in each dip of her hips.
Frantic. Desperate. Messy. Neither is quiet. Pain and pleasure blur the edges of her vision. She leans forward, flush against him, sliding her hands in his hair, burying her face in his neck. She lets him take over. Lets him hold her too tightly. Lets him give her exactly what she’s never asked for but always needed.
Hiram is right there with her, coming with her name on his lips. Their hearts pound wildly, out of sync, until stillness finds them—side by side, face-to-face. He rubs slow circles on her back.
“How do you feel?” The whispered question is followed by a kiss on her shoulder.
Veda falls asleep to the first fingers of light crawling across the sky before she can answer.
Thirty
Hiram wakes late in the morning to the sound of the shower running. The space beside him is empty.
Five minutes pass. Then ten. By fifteen, he is curious enough to test the waters after what happened last night. He abandons the warmth of the bed and walks into the bathroom, greeted by a wave of steam. Veda’s bathroom is modest, the shower’s curtain drawn but clear. She stands under the showerhead, eyes closed, looking lost in thought. They snap open when Hiram pulls back the curtain and joins her.
“Good morning.”
“Hey.”
Awkwardness tries to creep in, but Hiram doesn’t let it. Hot water cascades over their bodies as he kisses her, his hand caressing the side of her neck while one of hers rests on his chest.
“Everything okay?”
“You interrupted my mental breakdown.”
“How rude of me.”
“Exactly.” Veda runs fingers down his tattooed arm.
“Any regrets?” Hiram asks, fear in his throat.
“I tried to find a few, but couldn’t.”
“What a shame.” He pulls her flush against him, catching her interested brow raise when she feels him hardening against her. “Are you staying?”
“Yeah.”
They shower together, occasionally stopping for kisses or quips. Veda navigates his body in the light, and he does the same, watching black veins retreat from his touch. She yelps when he massages between her shoulder blades.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s—I don’t think anyone has touched me there in years. I didn’t realize how sore it was.”
That’s how he ends up behind her, hands working across her back. She squirms beneath his touch, breathing hard, pained but relieved. The air thickens with steam and the scent of her lavender soap. Despite his best intentions, his thoughts turn.
The plan is to dry off and fall back into bed after such a late night. Instead, they don’t make it past the bathroom counter. Unlike the night before, it’s a race of wet skin and hair, digging fingers and deep strokes. Veda’s legs are spread wide, head thrown back and lips bitten as she grinds against him, chasing her release. In no time, she’s clawing at him, gasping for breath.
