Whispers of Forbidden Desire in the Dark

“Okay, but you have to be quiet. My roommate is… a light sleeper.”

Lily’s whisper was a hot tremor against my ear, her hand a vice around my wrist as she pulled me through her darkened doorway. The click of the lock behind us sounded impossibly loud, a definitive thunk that separated the mundane world of apartment living from… this.

My heart was a jackhammer against my ribs. This is insane. I’d only moved in three weeks ago. We’d exchanged polite nods in the hallway, an awkward “borrow some sugar” moment that had stretched into a fifteen-minute chat about terrible landlords. And now I was following her into the warm, vanilla-scented dark of her apartment, my entire body humming with a tension I hadn’t felt in years.

She didn’t turn on the lights. Silhouetted by the faint orange glow of the city leaking through the blinds, she turned to face me. Her eyes were pools of liquid shadow, her breath coming a little faster than normal. I could smell her perfume, something light and floral, mixed with the clean scent of her shampoo.

Is this really happening?

Her fingers, which had been wrapped around my wrist, trailed up my arm, a slow, deliberate path that left a trail of fire in its wake. Her touch was surprisingly confident, a stark contrast to her whispered warning. She stopped at the collar of my shirt, her index finger hooking into it, giving a gentle, undeniable tug that pulled me closer.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, “since you caught that package for me at the mailroom.”

“The… the Amazon box?” I stammered, my own voice sounding rough, foreign.

She gave a soft, breathy laugh. “The way your arms flexed. It was… noteworthy.”

Her other hand came up, her palm flattening against my chest, right over my frantic heart. She could undoubtedly feel it pounding, a wild, runaway rhythm just for her. She’d been watching me. The thought sent a fresh, powerful surge of heat straight to my groin.

“I’ve been thinking about it, too,” I admitted, the confession torn from me. My hands, which had been hanging uselessly at my sides, found their way to her hips. She was all gentle curves beneath the soft fabric of her dress.

“Show me,” she whispered.

It was all the permission I needed. I ducked my head, closing the last inch of space between us. Our first kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a spark meeting a gas leak. A collision of pent-up curiosity and raw, undeniable want. Her lips were soft and demanding, yielding and then conquering. Her tongue met mine, a slick, hot slide that tasted of mint and pure, unadulterated need.

A low groan rumbled in my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her flush against me. She melted into the embrace, her own arms snaking around my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to make me see stars. The mound of her pelvis pressed against my growing erection, and she rolled her hips in a slow, deliberate circle, drawing a sharp, hissing breath from me.

“God, Lily…”

“Shhh,” she breathed against my lips, even as she ground against me again. “Told you. Light sleeper.”

She took my hand and led me backwards, never breaking our kiss, through her living room and into what I assumed was her bedroom. The door shut with a softer click than the front one, plunging us into near-total darkness. The only light came from a digital clock, casting the room in a faint blue glow.

I could make out the shape of her bed. And her, standing before me, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath.

“I want to see you,” I said, my voice thick.

In answer, she reached down, grabbed the hem of her simple sundress, and pulled it up and over her head in one smooth, breathtaking motion. She tossed it aside, a pale ghost in the dark. She stood before me, gloriously, unapologetically naked. The blue light carved the elegant slope of her shoulders, the perfect swell of her breasts, the tantalizing narrowness of her waist, the dark triangle of hair at the junction of her thighs.

“Your turn,” she said, and her voice held a new, commanding edge.

My fingers fumbled on the buttons of my shirt, made clumsy by a heady mix of nerves and lust. I shrugged out of it, let it fall to the floor. My pants and boxers followed in a hurried tangle. The cool air of her room hit my heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her gaze as it roamed over me, lingering on my hard, aching length.

“Yes,” she sighed, as if I’d passed some unspoken test.

She stepped into me, her naked skin sliding against mine, a sensation so electric it was almost painful. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her nipples hard little pebbles. I cupped one of her breasts, my thumb circling the taut peak, and she arched into my touch, a desperate, broken sound escaping her throat.

I walked her backward until her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and she fell back, pulling me down with her. The sheets were cool and silky against our feverish skin. She opened for me, her thighs falling apart, an invitation I was desperate to accept.

I settled between them, the head of my cock nudging against her wet heat. She was so ready, so slick. I looked down at her, her face a beautiful mask of anticipation in the dim light.

“Please,” she begged, her hips lifting, seeking me. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

I pushed inside.

It was a slow, inexorable slide, a filling, a joining that stole the air from both our lungs. She was so tight, so impossibly warm and wet. Her eyes widened, her lips forming a perfect ‘O’ as I sank into her to the hilt. A sharp, gasping cry was choked off as she bit her own lip, her inner muscles fluttering around me in a frantic, delicious rhythm.

“Oh, god…” she moaned, the sound muffled by her own effort to stay quiet. “You feel… so much.”

I held still for a moment, buried deep, savoring the feeling of being encased by her, the way her body was stretching to accommodate mine. I dropped my head, my forehead resting against hers, our breath mingling in the scant space between us.

“You okay?” I managed to rasp out.

In answer, she wrapped her legs around my waist, locking her ankles at the small of my back, and lifted her hips, taking me even deeper. “More.”

It was all the encouragement I needed. I began to move, a slow, rhythmic withdrawal followed by a deep, driving thrust. The quiet room was soon filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing, the soft, wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bedsprings. Every nerve ending was on fire. The friction was exquisite, a building, coiling tension deep in my core.

I shifted my angle slightly, and her reaction was instantaneous. Her back arched clear off the bed, a raw, strangled cry tearing from her throat that she desperately tried to stifle by pressing her face into my shoulder. Her nails dug into my back, little sharp points of pleasure-pain.

“Right there… oh, fuck, right there…” she chanted, her voice a broken whisper against my skin.

I drove into that spot again and again, each thrust pushing her higher. I could feel her climax building, a gathering storm in the tight clench of her body around me. Her breaths became sharp, frantic little pants. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit, and circled the swollen nub.

That was all it took.

Her entire body went rigid. Her internal muscles clenched around me in a series of violent, pulsating spasms that milked my length. A long, silent scream was etched on her face, her mouth open wide, her eyes squeezed shut in absolute ecstasy. The only sound was a high, keening whine in the back of her throat as her orgasm ripped through her, wave after devastating wave.

Feeling her come undone beneath me, around me, was my own undoing. The coil in my gut snapped. I buried myself as deep as I could go, my own groan ragged and unrestrained as I pulsed inside her, my release a hot, blinding rush that seemed to go on forever.

I collapsed on top of her, spent, our sweat-slicked bodies sticking together. The only sound was our harsh, synced breathing, gradually slowing. The digital clock blinked… 2:17 AM.

After a long moment, she shifted beneath me. Her hand came up, her fingers tracing the shell of my ear, a touch so tender it made my chest ache.

“So,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “That was…”