Chapter 5: Confessions in the Dark
The hallway was a silent, carpeted tunnel of dimmed sconces and the faint hum of a vacuum cleaner somewhere distant. Josh stood for a moment outside Lynda’s door, the taste of her still on his lips, the ghost of her fingers on his cheek. He let out a slow breath, the reality of the evening a warm, solid weight in his chest. He turned, aiming for the elevator bank at the end of the hall.He’d taken two steps when a door hissed open behind him. Before he could turn, a hand clamped around his wrist, fingers strong and urgent, and yanked him backwards. He stumbled over the threshold, the door clicking shut, plunging him into a different world.
Nikki’s room was a calculated riot. The sheer curtains billowed like ghosts in the night breeze off the balcony, the neon glow from Collins Avenue painting everything in streaks of electric pink and cyan. Silk kimonos were tossed over chairs, dresses pooled on the floor, the air thick with the overripe sweetness of tuberose perfume and the salty, sun-baked scent of skin.
She pushed him against the closed door before his eyes could fully adjust. Her body pressed into his, a firm, undeniable heat through the thin silk of her robe.She was barefoot, her hair a wild halo catching the neon.
“Nikki—” he started, but her mouth was on his, swallowing the word.
This was nothing like Lynda’s careful exploration.This was hunger. Her lips were demanding, her tongue pushing past his teeth with a possessive urgency.She tasted of mint and the faint, bitter tang of vodka. One hand fisted in his hair, pulling just enough to sting, while the other clawed at the front of his shirt. The robe she wore was loosely tied; as she arched against him, it fell open.She was naked underneath.
He groaned into her mouth, his hands moving of their own volition to grip her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft, pronounced curves. Her skin was fever-warm, smooth as polished stone.She broke the kiss, breathing ragged, her forehead resting against his. Her eyes, wide and dark in the colored light, searched his face.
“I watched you,” she whispered, her voice husky.“From my balcony.I saw you walk her back. Saw you kiss her goodnight like some fucking gentleman.” Her lips curled, not quite a smile. “I felt it.All that fucking… tension at lunch.The way you made her laugh. I wanted it. I want you to do to me whatever you were thinking of doing to her.”
His mind was a scrambler of tequila and lust and a sharp, jagged guilt. But his body was a simpler creature. He was already hard, straining against his jeans, and the feel of her bare skin against his hands, the desperate need in her voice, was obliterating every other thought.
“She’s your sister,” he breathed, even as his hands slid around to cup the full, heavy swell of her arse.
“And she’s got a date with you tomorrow,” Nikki shot back, grinding against him.A sharp, delicious friction.“Tonight is mine. Don’t think.Just fucking touch me.”
Her mouth found his again, a savage, wet collision. She wrestled his shirt open, buttons pinging onto the tile floor. Her nails raked down his chest, leaving hot trails. He shoved the robe from her shoulders, letting it puddle at their feet. The neon painted her body in garish, beautiful detail: the deep tan lines, the heavy breasts tipped with tight, dusky nipples, the dramatic inward curve of her waist flaring out to the ripe, glorious expanse of her hips.
“Christ, Nikki,” he muttered, his mouth leaving hers to travel down her neck. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and she cried out, a short, sharp sound that was pure victory. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him there.“Yes.Like that. No gentle shit.” She pushed him back, her hands going to his belt buckle. She made quick, frantic work of it, yanking his jeans and boxers down to his knees.His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking. She wrapped her hand around him, a tight, knowing fist, and stroked once, twice, her eyes locked on his.
“You want this?” she demanded, her thumb smearing the wetness at his tip.
“Fuck, yes,” he growled, the last semblance of resistance crumbling.
“Then take it.”
She turned, bending over the foot of the massive, disheveled bed, presenting herself to him.The view was obscene, breathtaking. The rounded perfection of her arse, the shadowed cleft between. She looked back over her shoulder, her blonde hair cascading.“Come on, Josh. Don’t make me wait.”
He stepped out of his clothes, kicking them aside. He ran a hand over the curve of her hip, then down the seam of her thigh.She was already wet, slick and hot when he touched her core. She jerked against his fingers, a low moan escaping her.
“Now,” she demanded, pushing back against his hand.“Just fuck me. Hard.”
He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging against her entrance.He pushed in, not slowly, not gently. A single, driving thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her tight, clasping heat.
She screamed, a raw, unfiltered sound that was swallowed by the room’s fabrics. Her back arched, her hands clutching at the rumpled sheets.“Oh, god!Yes! Just like that!”
He set a punishing pace immediately, gripping her hips for leverage, pulling her onto him with every rough slam. The room filled with the sound of it: skin slapping against skin, the creak of the bedframe, her ragged, sobbing breaths and his own guttural groans. It was pure, animal fucking. A release of all the coiled tension from the day, from the flirtation, from the impossible choice.
He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing rough, fast circles. She came almost instantly, her whole body seizing, her inner muscles clamping down on him in violent, rhythmic pulses.“Fuck! Fuck, Josh!” Her cries were loud, uninhibited.It tipped him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself and came, a hot, rushing release that blurred his vision. He groaned, long and low, his hips stuttering against hers as he emptied himself inside her.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing and the distant thump of bass from a club far below.He stayed there, buried within her, the sweat cooling on his back.
A buzz, sharp and intrusive, sliced through the haze.It came from the nightstand.Her phone, screen lighting up.
Nikki twisted her head, panting.A smirk spread across her swollen lips. She reached out, her arm trembling slightly, and tapped the screen.The notification glowed in the dark.
Lynda: Goodnight, Josh.x
Nikki silenced the phone, the screen going black. She pushed herself up, and he slid out of her, feeling suddenly empty, exposed. She turned and faced him, her body gleaming, triumphant, vulnerable all at once.
“See?” she said, her voice hoarse. “I told you tonight was mine.”
Josh looked from her—beautiful, brazen, complicated—to the dark phone on the nightstand. The warmth of Lynda’s kiss was still a phantom pressure on his lips, but the smell of Nikki, of sex and perfume, was in his nose, on his skin. The guilt arrived then, cold and sharp, a blade twisting in his gut.He had no words. He just stared at the phone, feeling the sticky heat drying on his thighs, and wondered what in the hell he had just done, and how in the hell he was supposed to walk out of this room and into tomorrow.