Page 35 of A Sinful Gravity

Wind whipped hard out there, pressing my shirt against me. Below, city lights sprawled endlessly. Traffic crawled, red taillights weaving a glowing stream.

If Luna were here, how would she share this with me?

Maybe she'd cook something herself, lean in close with genuine praise. That thought pulled a real smile from me.

I admitted it. I missed her like crazy.

I leaned on the railing and lit a smoke. Smoke curled up, blurring my view.

The door pushed open behind me. Marco, carrying two whiskeys. He handed one over. "What? Megan's hot."

I took it, didn't sip, just held it. "Not interested."

Marco turned, leaned on the railing, and sighed. "Six years, man. You're still like this—women approach, you bolt like they're poison. Planning to die alone?"

I didn't answer, just dragged on the cigarette. The tip flared and died, like my flickering days these years.

Marco clapped my shoulder. "After this wraps, grab a drink? Just us, no flock of birds."

I shook my head. "Nah. Got somewhere to be."

He didn't push. "Don't burn yourself out. You're the winner now—but winners need to breathe."

Then he shifted tone. "But right now, time to celebrate with the Taylor Group crew!"

I caught his wild grin, cracked one back, and dove into the party.

It ended past twelve-thirty. I'd tried to bail midway but got roped in. Washington's midnight streets felt empty. They grew familiar as we drove, until we stopped at the house.

The flowers by the door had wilted in the chill wind—or maybe just because she was gone.

I unlocked it. Six years, and everything inside stayed exactly as she'd left it.

Pushed the door open, and the living room sensor light flicked on.

That potted plant by the window still thrived, leaves glossy, fuller than six years ago. Branches spread wide, claiming most of the sill. The housekeeper had watered it today—droplets clung to the leaves.

I walked over, touched one. The coolness sharpened my mind.

Luna had loved this plant. I'd catch her fussing over it patiently. Looking back, she poured her heart into everything here.

Once, that included me. But I'd lost her.

Under the light, it cast a nice shadow, leaf edges pooling on the floor. A breeze from the window stirred them gently—alive, the only thing still growing in this empty space.

I shrugged off my suit jacket and tossed it on the couch. Unbuttoned my shirt one by one, fingers shaky. Headed to the master bedroom. Same bed, pale gray sheets, her old pillow. I sat, buried my face in it, and inhaled deeply.

The lavender scent was long gone, but I swore I caught it.

I lay back, hand slipping into my waistband. Eyes shut, my mind didn't replay memories—it spun the now. What if she were here?

I pinned her down beneath me on the silk sheets, the weight of my body crushing her into the mattress just like that reckless night six years ago. Luna's eyes flashed with that familiar mix of fury and hunger as I grabbed the delicate fabric of her nightgown and tore it open in one brutal yank, buttons scattering, lace ripping apart to expose her pale, perfect skin to the cool air.

She might shove at my chest, her small fists pounding weakly while she hissed "You bastard," but her body betrayed her instantly—hips already lifting, thighs parting instinctively, slick heat welcoming me even as her lips cursed my name.

I didn't give her time to think. My hands clamped hard around her narrow waist, fingers digging into soft flesh hard enough to bruise, and I thrust into her in one savage stroke—deep, rough, burying every thick inch to the hilt inside her tight, dripping cunt.

A muffled whimper tore from her throat, desperate and broken, the sound so fucking seductive it made my cock throb violently inside her. She slapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle it, but I could still hear the wet, needy little cries leaking through her fingers with every brutal snap of my hips.