If the Sun Never Sets (If Love)

Blake couldn’t hide his self-satisfied grin as Farrah bucked against his face, her moans growing so loud they rattled the new bathroom windows.

He slid his tongue between her folds and savored her sweet, musky taste. It was an aphrodisiac, made just for him, and he couldn’t get enough. A sweet swirl, a drag of his teeth, a flick of his tongue. Each action resulted in a noise that sent flames of lust racing through his veins and straight to his dick.

Farrah gripped the counter with one hand and grasped his hair with the other, pulling so hard it hurt, but the pain only made him want her more. Her panting groans grew in length and intensity. The muscles in her thighs stiffened, and he knew she was about to explode. Blake considered prolonging her orgasm, pulling back and bringing her to the edge and pulling back again until she begged him to let her come, but he was so hard he might shatter if he didn’t bury himself inside her in the next two minutes.

He drew her clit into his mouth once more and sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the tender bud as he did so, while he slammed his fingers deep inside her until they reached her sweet spot. Farrah screamed a wild, breathless scream that reverberated through the bathroom and sang through Blake like the world’s most erotic symphony. Her hips bucked against his face, over and over, as her orgasm quaked through her. She thrashed so hard he had to pull his fingers out of her dripping core and pin her hips down with both hands lest she slid off the counter. Meanwhile, his hungry mouth devoured her, lapping up her juices, not wanting to miss a single drop. To his surprise, Farrah came again, even harder this time.

Blake waited until her last shudders subsided and she collapsed in a heap against the wall before he raised himself off the ground, so they were at eye level. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a tousled cloud of midnight silk. Her flushed cheeks and red lips had him throbbing with desire, and her eyes, heavy-lidded and hazy with post-coital bliss, peered out at him from beneath thick dark lashes.

“I think it’s time for me to return the favor.” Farrah’s throaty promise sent another shot of lust straight to his groin.

Blake didn’t resist when she slid off the counter and made quick work of his briefs, but when she kneeled, he grasped her arms and pulled her back up.

Farrah’s brow furrowed.

“Not tonight,” he said. “I need to fuck you. Right now.”

She didn’t say it, but she didn’t need to. It was written all over face. Tonight is the only night we have.

The burst of anger came out of nowhere. It knotted in Blake’s stomach, fed by desperation. He wanted to grab Farrah’s shoulders and shake her. Make her see what was in front of them. But he couldn’t, so he settled for closing the distance between them until her back hit the counter and his hard arousal pressed against her soft center.

“Tell me how you want it,” he growled. “Sweet and slow, or hard and rough?”

Farrah’s eyes flickered with excitement. Her chest rose and fell in short pants of breath. “Hard and rough,” she whispered.

A feral smile slashed across his face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She cried out as he spun her around and bent her over the sink. He fished his wallet out of his jeans pocket and took out a condom—he always had one on him, just in case—and sheathed himself in it before he returned to the tantalizing sight of Farrah’s glistening arousal.

“Spread your legs wider,” Blake commanded.

She obeyed without hesitation.

Blake grabbed her hips, pressing his thumbs into her soft flesh, and leaned over until his breath tickled her ear. “Is this what you really want?”

“Yes,” Farrah whimpered. The whimper turned into a full-on cry when Blake slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “You’re so tight.” Tighter than a fist, hotter than an inferno, and so damn wet he almost lost it in one stroke like a pre-pubescent boy.

Blake tightened his jaw, trying to regain control before he started moving.

Farrah whined and squirmed against him.

“Impatient,” he teased. He reached around to stroke her swollen clit, taking great satisfaction in the shudder that rippled through her body.

“Fuck me.” She gave the command this time, and Blake obeyed the way she had for him. He couldn’t have waited any longer even if he wanted to.

He withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained inside her, then drove forward again in a vicious thrust that pitched her forward.

Blake pounded into her mercilessly, letting her moans and throaty screams drive him harder, deeper, faster.

This wasn’t making love. Farrah didn’t want that, and frankly, neither did he. What he wanted was to bury himself so deep she’d never forget him, to fuck her so hard he imprinted on her, to take her so high she’d realize they were meant for more than one night.

Blake angled himself so his dick rubbed against her clit with each downward stroke. He watched them in the mirror—her eyes closed and mouth slack with arousal, his own mouth set in a grim line as he made her take all of him, over and over, until there was no doubt in either of their minds that she was his, at least for tonight.

He fisted her hair and tugged it back just as he sent her jolting forward with a savage thrust. Farrah’s eyes snapped open. His name flew from her lips in a strangled cry as she quaked around him, her third orgasm of the night rolling over them both like an out-of-control train. She twisted and writhed, her body desperate to convulse, but Blake forced her to hold still and ride out her climax without mercy.

Just as her shudders eased, he slammed into her again. And again. And again. He didn’t know how long they stayed in that bathroom, but it was only when Farrah pleaded exhaustion after her sixth or seventh orgasm that he unleashed his iron grip on self-control.

Blake spun Farrah round to face him. His mouth descended on hers, hungry and desperate. She returned the kiss with fervor—her nails digging grooves into the skin on his back, her tongue chasing his as she moaned helplessly into his mouth. Blake accepted her surrender, the only surrender she would give him.

He increased the pace of his thrusts until Farrah’s sweet taste and tight heat sent him over the edge. The orgasm he’d been holding in all night burst forth with a ferocity that had him seeing stars. Farrah said she was spent, but once again, she surprised him with another explosion, her cries mingling with his as they free-fell into oblivion and collapsed into each other’s arms.

Blake closed his eyes, savoring her warmth and etching it in his mind before he withdrew from her. He rolled the condom off and tossed it in the trash.

He swept a cautious gaze over Farrah’s face, trying to gauge her feelings now that the high from their sex session had worn off. She looked content and satiated, but he couldn’t read her expression beyond that.

“How are you feeling?” He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. An ache swirled in his chest. They used to lie awake all night, talking about their dreams and fears and wishes for the future. What he would give for one of those nights now.

“Amazing.” Farrah grinned, her eyes sparkling. “That was amazing. Just what I needed.”

Blake’s hand froze. One by one, the pleasant aftershocks of his climax turned into petrified stone and dropped into the pit that had opened up in his stomach.

It’s what we need.

One night to get each other out of our systems.

This is just sex.

He knew that. Hell, he’d agreed to it less than an hour ago. Still, he thought…

Blake’s jaw clenched. “I’m glad.” He dropped his hand from Farrah’s face and avoided her gaze as he pulled on his briefs and jeans. “It worked, then.”

A beat of silence. “What did?”

Blake forced himself to look at her, even though the sight of her face twisted the knife in his heart that much deeper. “You fucked me out of your system.”

Farrah inhaled sharply. Her eyes glistened with wariness and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. “Blake…”

“I’m happy to be of service.” He smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. “One night, right?”

A part of him—a stupid, foolish part—hoped she’d refute him. Tell him she wanted more than what she’d been willing to give.

But that hope was a balloon waiting to be punctured.

“Right,” Farrah whispered.

The air leaked out, slowly but surely, until the balloon was just a crumpled heap of what used to be.

Farrah gathered her clothes off the floor and got dressed. She stopped in the doorway to look back at Blake, indecision scrawled all over her face, before she left and took the jagged pieces of his heart with her.

Blake stood rigid, unmoving, until he heard the front door close. Only then did he allow his shoulders to sag. He lowered his head and rested his forearms on the counter, too tired to hold himself up.

He could still smell her. Taste her. Hear her. And when he looked at himself in the mirror, he appeared older somehow, as heartbreak seeped through his skin and hardened him from the inside out.

Turn one night into multiple nights.

He’d taken a gamble.

And he’d lost.