ELARA'S POV 🔞
I had her back against the wall again, her body still trembling, lips swollen, chest heaving with every breath. I didn't give her a second to rest—I kissed her hard, messy, our mouths colliding with the same desperate hunger that started all of this. My hands found her breasts, warm and full beneath my palms. I brushed my thumbs over her nipples, watching her gasp, her head tipping back as her body arched into me. "You're so fucking perfect," I whispered, my lips trailing down her neck, across her collarbone, until I reached the swell of her chest.
I took one nipple into my mouth, sucking slow and deep, my tongue swirling over it in lazy circles, while my fingers teased the other—pinching just enough to make her moan, loud and helpless.
"Ahhh… yes…" she cried, hips grinding against my thigh, her hands tangled in my hair as I switched to the other breast, biting gently, then soothing it with my tongue. Her moans echoed off the tile, breathy and uncontrollable.
"Ahhh… f-fuck, that feels so good…" I kept going—biting, sucking, licking—losing myself in the way her body responded to every flick of my tongue, every graze of my teeth.
Then—bang bang bang. A knock at the door. We froze. A muffled voice followed. "Hey! Someone in there? People are waiting!" She let out a breathless laugh, still clinging to me, her skin flushed and glistening. I grinned against her chest, planting one last soft kiss between her breasts. "Guess we've made them wait long enough." She smiled, brushing her fingers through my hair. "Let them wonder."
I helped her down gently, both of us still tangled in the afterglow, clothes half-on, lips still tasting like heat and want. We exchanged one last kiss—slow, lingering—before we fixed ourselves up in silence, breath still heavy, hearts still pounding. As we unlocked the door and stepped out into the bar again, eyes met ours, but we didn't care.
The moment we stepped out of the washroom, the noise of the bar hit us like a wave—music thumping, laughter echoing, glasses clinking. But between us, it was dead quiet. We barely looked at each other as we moved through the crowd. She walked ahead, fast. I caught her arm near the exit. "Elara," I said, voice still rough from everything we'd just done. "What's going on?" She stopped but didn't turn around. "This was a mistake." That hit harder than I expected. "A mistake?" I scoffed. "You didn't look like you were regretting it a few minutes ago." She turned, eyes sharp, jaw tight. "You think because it felt good, it meant it was right?" I stepped closer. "No, but you wanted it. We both did." Her voice rose, not angry, but panicked. "I did. That's the problem. I wanted you too much. And now I don't know what the hell this means."
"It doesn't have to mean anything tonight," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We got caught up. It's not the end of the world."
"It is when I can't look at myself after," she snapped, biting her lip like the words burned her on the way out. "This—this wasn't just sex for me. It never is with you. And I can't do that again." I stared at her, chest tightening. "So, what, you're just gonna walk away?" Her eyes glistened—not quite tears, but close. "I need to. For me."
The silence stretched between us like a chasm. For a moment, I thought about stopping her. But I saw the look in her eyes—wounded, tangled, already gone. She turned and walked out into the night without another word. I stood there a moment longer, then stepped out through the opposite door, the cool air biting at my skin like it knew what we'd done. Two people. One fire. Now, two different directions. We both went home.
Alone.