GRAY

six

Juliette

Two weeks ago, I would've laughed so loud in your face if you told me that I would be fùcking a stranger on the first night of my honeymoon.

But here I am.

With Roman. Who surprisingly had a condom in the pockets of his shorts. Do men just walk around with condoms in their pockets or was he actually planning to fùck another woman tonight? Honestly, I don't give a fùck. He's just my husband for tonight. Whatever he does with other women is none of my business. I just want òrgasms.

He presses me tight on the door. His lips on mine. His hands in my hair. Both of us breathless. He strips off my robe and my t-shirt. Then he kneels down to take off my panties. I look down at him, my heart pounding.

He kisses my kitty then slowly starts sucking. He strokes his tongue against my clìtoris, forcing silent moans out of my mouth. He then digs his tongue inside me and starts stroking gently, taking his time. I can't help but grab a fist of his hair and moan helplessly. He strokes and strokes and strokes until I scream out in pleasure and come in his mouth. My legs are shaking as he looks up at me with a cocky smile, so impressed with himself.

He stands and starts kissing me again. He slides his hands to my butt and squeezes. I turn him around and press him to the door. It's my turn to torture him with pure pleasure. I take off his shirt and shorts. I kneel down and start rubbing on his bòner against his boxers. It's so hard and erect it looks like it's going to explode out of the boxers. I look up at him, his eyes dark with desire. I take off his boxers and unleash the beast. I start stroking his dìck with my hand before taking him in my mouth. His flesh tastes like salt but that doesn't stop me from drooling all over him. Then I start sucking him. I suck and suck and suck but stop.

"Don't come!" I look up at him. "Not yet."

Roman throws me a strange look. Surprised but impressed.

I stand on my toes and start kissing him, pulling him to the white leather couch. I sit on him as we dive deeper into each other's mouths. I start biting his neck. Then I go down to his chest. Then I kiss the little "moon" tattoo on the left side of his chest. Then I bite his n****e, making him wince. He's so hard and steady.

He tears the condom swiftly and puts it on. I slip his dìck inside me and start riding him. Slowly. When I start getting faster, he groans in my ear as he grabs my waist tighter. We are both lost in pleasure. Moaning into each other's mouths. Fùcking like rabbits. Then I stop him.

"Don't." I repeat. "Not yet."

I jump from the couch and pull him up. Everytime he stands, I'm amazed by how tall he is. The way he bends down to kiss me. I'm a tall model standing at six feet. Most men that I've dated were never as tall as me. Even Harvey was slightly shorter than me. It's actually why I hated wearing heels around him. People liked making fun of his height when it wasn't his fault that I was just born really tall.

I drag him to the balcony. It's a little cold and breezy but we are hot for each other. Roman stands behind me. I bend and hold onto the railings as he enters me. We both gasp after the first stroke. He strokes harder and harder. I moan louder and louder. I push him back and look up at him.

"Don't." I smile. "Not yet."

Roman looks like he's enjoying the torture. The pain and pleasure of it. My dominance. I almost feel like a director of a pòrnographic film. Except this one is packed with a lot of tension and passion and pleasure. I don't want it to stop rolling.

I pull him back to the room where I lie on the Persian rug filled with petals. I part my legs wide for him as he gets on top of me. Our eyes bore into each other as he enters me slowly. With every stroke, he gets deeper but more gentle. Slower. Tender. Our mouths lock in an intense and passionate kiss. He starts rubbing my clìtoris as he fùcks me gently. I'm lost in his mouth. I'm lost in his body. Finally, we gasp into each other's mouth as we both explode in pleasure.

Roman gets off me and falls on the rug, next to me.

We are both silent. The only sound being the breathless gasps.

I'm staring at the ceiling when a silent tear rolls down my eye, all the way down to my temple. Roman rubs it off with his thump, sadness and sympathy filling his eyes.

We lock eyes for a moment before I stand and vanish to the bathroom.

**

I'm sitting in a foetal position in the hot tub, hugging my knees.

Roman peeks his head into the bathroom, still naked.

"Do you need some space?" He asks softly. "I can leave."

"You're my husband for the night, remember?" I manage a smile. "Please stay. You can join me in the tub."

He hesitates for a moment before he walks in and slides into the massive white tub. He's a huge tall man. He eats up all the space in the tub.

We sit in silence for a couple of minutes before I shoot him a question.

"What's that "crescent moon" tattoo on your chest?"

"It's just a stupid little tattoo I got at seventeen."

"Well, what's the story behind it?"

Roman shrugs and hesitates for a moment, his face flushing with emotion. He sighs and clears his throat.

"I think the sun is cliché." He says. "I've always been fascinated with the moon. My mom used to say, 'no matter how dark the night, the moon gives you light'. We picked it up and everytime someone had a rough day at home, we always smiled and said, 'look for the moon.' That's why I got the tattoo. My friends like teasing me about it. They think it's corny."

"I think it's cute." I smile. "It's a powerful message when you're going through a tough time."

Silence stretches between us for a moment before I look up at him and clear my throat.

"It was supposed to be our first night." I say. "When we started dating, Harvey said we should wait until marriage. He said sèx spoils most relationships. He wanted to strip my soul first before stripping my body. He wanted to build a deep emotional connection first before building a sèxual one. The fact that he was willing to wait for me made me fall harder for him."

A small smile touches my face before it's swept away by a deep frown. A lump burns my threat, threatening to explode.

"But if I knew some devil would kill him, I'd have fùcked him on that first night! Now we'll never get to build a sèxual connection! We'll never get to make babies! We'll never get to grow old together! Both our lives and hopes and dreams crushed by a cold-blood murderer!"

It takes every ounce of strength to keep the tears at bay but it's still not enough to stop me from breaking down. The tears spilling like a furious rain. I can't stop myself from sobbing. I can't hide the pain away with lots of liquor and lots of sèx anymore. For days, I've been holding it in and this is the price I pay. A total meltdown infront of a stranger.

It doesn't help when he pulls me close and wraps his arms around, tears and mucus spilling on his chest.

Fùck me.

**

The crescent moon is out.

The night is dark and silent.

We are lying in the dark and silence, the only sound being our soft breaths. Tucked under the soft sheets, our heads are pressed on one pillow.

My back is pressed to him. His strong arms are wrapped around me. He's just a stranger but I feel so safe in his warm embrace. His wife will be one lucky woman.

After the meltdown, we've both been silent. I appreciate his silence more than anything. Sometimes silence does more healing than silence. I craved someone who would just hold me and be silent. Sometimes silence does more healing than words of encouragement. I prefer this a million times to someone telling me that everything will be okay when I know it will never be okay. My husband died in my arms. Nothing will ever be okay.

Suddenly, Roman freezes.

He holds me tighter and whispers in alarm.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Someone on the door."

We stay silent as we wait to hear whatever he heard the first time. This time, alert and frightened.

My heart sinks when I hear the key turning in the lock.

****