Page 72 of Nightfire

He laughed and, after a second, so did she.

“Apparently, I am hungry.” And she was—ravenous. Wow. All of a sudden. This explosion of entirely new feelings had masked it. She lifted her head from his chest and smiled into his eyes. “What’s on offer?”

Did that voice coming out of her mouth really hers? It was sultry, husky. Sex on a stick. Mike smiled, took her hand and moved it over his groin.

His penis was still iron hard, slicked with their juices. Chloe lifted her eyebrows. She was exhausted but he seemed to have this non-stop battery. She didn’t want sex right now, but still…her hand curled around him instinctively. She felt him thicken even more, moving in her hand.

Like Prince Charming kissing Sleeping Beauty on the lips and bringing her to life. Only the other way round and using another part of the anatomy.

Mike’s breath came in on a hiss and his eyes narrowed. The sound felt like pain and a couple of hours ago, Chloe would have lifted her hand, startled, wondering if she’d hurt him.

But now she knew better. She wasn’t hurting him.

Now her face creased in a knowing smile.

“You’re not going to get fed any time soon if you keep that up,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Men really are different from women,” Chloe mused, looking down at her hand caressing his penis. She pumped her hand slowly, down, up, down, and felt blood coursing through it. It was dark red again, the enormous bulbous tip a plum color.

His penis was the most fascinating thing in the world. She’d been to the Tate, the Louvre and the Uffizi and nothing there could compare to this.

“Well…yeah.” Mike arched his hips a little, to put himself more deeply into her hand. His tone was – duh. Yes, men and women are different.

“I mean, we aren’t quite so…blatant in our desire. It’s not so easy to tell that we’re turned on. And, well, we have a turn-off switch, too. I’m not that experienced, but you don’t seem to have that switch at all. I’m all tapped out and you’re still raring to go. Sort of like the Energizer Bunny.”

It was a feeble joke, but she did expect him to laugh. Instead, his face grew somber and his hips stopped moving. He placed his hand over hers, stopping her movements.

“I—” he began. “It’s not—” He stopped, clenched his mouth tightly. Some strong emotion was working in him. His throat moved with unsaid words.

How Chloe understood that, needing to say something but not being able to. How many times she’d wanted to say things and choked them back down in her throat? If human anatomy were like plumbing, her throat would be clogged with black, unsaid words.

She lifted her hand away. Mike wanted to say something and couldn’t. It was cruel to distract him by sex.

She sat up, bedsheets curled around her waist, and covered herself with the sheet. It wasn’t modesty. Mike had feasted on her breasts, he knew every inch of her. But instinct told her that this was a moment for talk, not sex.

His throat clicked and she took pity on him. She picked up his hand, examined it. Actually his hand was almost as fascinating as his penis, and had been the source of almost as much delight. His hand was definitely a sex organ.

And beautiful.

Large, rough, calloused. Immensely strong, big veins popping on the backs. The epitome of male hands. Utterly different from hers.

She curled her fingers through his. A gesture of affection, rather than sex. Meant as support, not arousal. “There’s something you want to say, Mike?” she asked gently.

He looked away, jaws clenched, then huffed out a breath and swiveled his head back to her.

“Yeah. There is.” He stopped. His throat worked, muscles moving. This was obviously hard for him. Chloe understood hard. She waited.

Another long breath whooshing out of him. His fingers tightened around hers. “I guess now’s as good a time as ever to say this. It’s hard because it’s not pretty. I-I’ve slept around a lot, Chloe.”

She smiled. His beautiful face was so solemn, so serious, as if imparting a state secret.

“I know, Mike. Ellen and Nicole told me and, well, Harry too. They, uh, they were quite clear that you…messed around. A lot.”

Messing around. It was a delicate way to put it.

“But not in the last six months.” He said it belligerently, as if she was going to deny it. “Not since the day I met you.”

After that, he just shut down. The silence in the room grew heavy, then oppressive. He didn’t say a word.