He leans close and places the softest kiss upon her forehead. She smiles, he knows, a hand creeping upward over his chest. It's soft and tentative, and fingers curl into the material of his shirt with confused desire that's reflected in the deep brown of her eyes.
He breathes her in as he kisses her, inhales her scent and she smells fresh, a vague scent of spring-time flowers tickling at him. And when his hand glides downward between her legs she gasps, clasping her thighs tight in surprise, locking him there.
He laughs, and she looks up at him bashfully.
But he already knows all this. So a quiet 'hush' falls from his lips, silencing her with reassurance and his fingers work deftly, stroking and asking. She yields, opening to his persistence and warmth dampens his fingers.
"I..." She begins again, that blush deepening on her cheeks and Shayden shakes his head.
"You..." With his free hand he grasps her wrist, guides her hand downward and she fumbles stupidly with the zipper. Finally she works denim free and dips her hand beneath the silk of his shorts. There's a look of sadness upon her face when she finds him limp, but he just smiles down at her, wraps her fingers around him and understanding dawns in her eyes as she begins to stroke at him, caressing him to hardness.
She wants to kiss him, put her lips to him and taste him and so she does, flicking the tip of her tongue gingerly to the smoothness of his cock. It sends shudders through him, electricity shooting along his nerves and she gasps at his reaction, surprised at the power she holds in her hands.
Instinct causes her to swell and yearn, and she draws him downward and between her thighs. The soft collision of two bodies joining makes her arch and moan, a slow exhale of breath pouring from her lips and into his mouth as he glides inside her. He fits, tight and full and thick, and she holds him there for a moment, body growing used to his invasion. They lay like that, staring into each other's eyes and breathing the smell of each other in deep.
He feels her relax, feels the shift of her body beneath him and he moves into her, out of her, long and smooth and unhurried and she whimpers at the way he draws outward and groans with his strokes into her. They move together, finding their rhythm, unique in the way their bodies blend together and when she comes her nails dig into his buttocks and leave crescent-shaped bites in his skin.
When he comes, she feels the way he shudders deep inside her, feels the way she clenches around him and coaxes every last drop out. She watches the way his body spasms, matching the flex and twitch of his cock. Hungry lips seek hers and he kisses her like she's the last lifeline he has in this world.
They lay together like that, his body shivering inside hers and her body is too greedy to let him go. He slips out of her, damp and sensitive and although he peppers her face with kisses, she knows that he's thinking of his other... The other that she could only distract him from for a few moments out of time.
She wants to touch him, to feel the way he feels afterward. She wants to lay in the warmth of his afterglow, but he turns away from her. She cannot hear the words he mumbles, the excuse he sends her way. She lays there and feels the dampness settling beneath her, that cold wet patch and the ache in her heart that he's leaving her with.
He steps into his jeans, fastens them and she asks, "Where are you going?"
Stupid clichés run through his mind. 'It's not you, it's me'. 'This was a mistake'. But they all don't fit quite right. He pulls his shirt back on and looks over his shoulder at her.
"You were good," He says but it hardly heals her breaking heart. "I just can't forget him."
There's the scrap of metal as he picks up his car keys, the soft fumble of paper as he strips away a fifty dollar note and places it on the bedside table.
"For breakfast. Make sure you get it with room service. I promised you breakfast in bed, didn't I?" He smiles in the darkness, she can hear the way it flexes his words but she knows it's false, full of a failed attempt at humour. She feels like a whore. And then she is alone.