Just One Orgasm!

Emilia took another bite of her taco before glancing out of the window.

The city lights had long swallowed the last traces of sunset, leaving only ribbons of headlights stretching endlessly along the motorway.

She smiled to herself.

This had to be the longest drive she’d ever enjoyed.

Twice already, Adrian had pulled into service stations because she’d spotted food. She never thought he would care.

First it had been bugger, then fries, and now tacos.

He hadn’t complained once. A glimpse of sadness crossed her eyes remembering Noah.

He would have complained all through the ride, and called her fat if she even took just a bite.

Her fingers brushed a few crumbs from her jeans before she looked up again.

A small crease formed between her brows.

"Adrian?"

"Hm?"

She looked through the windshield. "This isn’t the way back to Blackwood."

His hands remained steady on the steering wheel. "I know."

She sat up properly.

"It’s too late to drop you two streets away from campus."

She frowned. "It’s only eight."

"It is."

"Then..." She looked from the unfamiliar road back to him. "Where exactly are you taking me?"

His side profile remained calm beneath the passing streetlights. "You can spend the night with me." He finally glanced at her. "Can you not?"

For a moment, Emilia simply stared at him. She wasn’t offended, only surprised.

"You’ve already driven for hours."

His eyes returned to the road. "I’d rather know you’re somewhere comfortable than have you travelling across campus at this hour."

She studied him quietly. He hadn’t even tried to persuade her. He’d simply offered her an option.

"Okay," she said softly.

The corners of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly. "Thank you."

Another twenty minutes passed before the city skyline grew taller around them. Glass towers reflected thousands of tiny lights against the night sky.

Adrian turned into a private entrance bordered by manicured hedges and sculpted olive trees.

A discreet security gate slid open before he even reached it.

Emilia looked over. "They know your car?"

"They know the number plate."

The car continued forward.

The driveway curved beneath a modern building whose architecture looked more like a luxury hotel than somewhere people actually lived.

Floor-to-ceiling glass climbed toward the sky, and soft golden lights illuminated the stone walls and carefully designed gardens.

A concierge standing near the entrance offered Adrian a respectful nod before the car disappeared underground.

The private garage was quieter than the street above. Spotless concrete floors reflected the overhead lighting.

Luxury cars occupied the surrounding spaces with enough distance between them to feel like pieces in a showroom rather than everyday vehicles.

Emilia slowly turned in her seat. "Those are all yours?"

Adrian followed her gaze. "Most of them." He responded casually.

She counted silently, and then, she stopped.

"I don’t even know the names of half these cars."

"They all drive."

She nodded at his joke.

He parked beside a matte black coupe before switching off the engine.

Silence settled comfortably between them.

"I didn’t have a better apartment you’d like," he said quietly.

She looked at him in confusion before smiling. "No worries." She shook her head. "You shouldn’t have to give up your comfort for one night I’ll spend here."

He reached across the centre console. His hand rested gently on top of her head. His fingers slipped slowly through the strands of her hair with quiet affection.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, and he unfastened his seat belt. Then he leaned over just enough to press a lingering kiss against the crown of her head.

"Thank you," he murmured.

She but her lower lip without opening her eyes. "For what?"

"For making today feel... easy."

...

The private lift opened directly into the penthouse.

Emilia stepped inside and instinctively slowed.

The apartment was breathtaking. Everything felt intentional. Wide oak floors stretched beneath soft lighting recessed into impossibly high ceilings.

Entire walls of glass overlooked the city, turning thousands of distant lights into something that looked almost unreal.

A grand piano rested near the windows.

Bookshelves reached from floor to ceiling, filled with carefully arranged volumes instead of decorative ornaments.

The furniture was sculptural rather than extravagant, deep charcoal sofas, natural stone, dark walnut, and brushed steel.

Nothing shouted for attention. Everything simply belonged. It didn’t feel like someone trying to prove they were wealthy.

The whole space felt like wealth that had existed for generations.

Emilia turned slowly. "It’s... beautiful."

"I spend very little time decorating." He looked around too with little interest. "The interior designer might appreciate hearing that."

She laughed quietly. "I’ve never seen anything like this."

He turned to her, and watched her instead of the apartment. "I’m glad."

She wandered toward the windows.

The city stretched endlessly beneath her feet.

He picked up her overnight bag. "Come on."

He led her down a quieter hallway. The further they walked, the more personal the apartment became with framed degrees, and a shelf filled with awards.

He stopped outside the final door. "This is my personal room."

He opened it, and Emilia stepped inside, then stopped.

The room was unmistakably his, grey, deep charcoal, black walnut, and clean lines. The room felt masculine without feeling cold.

The walls held several large black-and-white framed erotic photographs. Tasteful, artistic portraits that captured movement, emotion, and the human form with striking composition, and nudity.

At first, Emilia noticed only the dramatic lighting and striking compositions. Then her eyes adjusted to the bare shoulders, intertwined bodies, and the fingers against skin. They weren’t crude or vulgar. They were undeniably intimate

Her heartbeat quickened. The photos revealed a side of him she hadn’t expected.

She slowly turned back toward him. "You have..." She cleared her throat. "...different personalities."

Adrian followed her gaze to the photographs. "So I’ve been told."

Before she could ask what he meant, he crossed the room and opened another door she hadn’t noticed.

"This is the changing room."

She blinked.

He set her bag inside before looking back at her. "You’ll be sleeping here tonight."

A small silence settled between them. Then he added gently, "We won’t be sharing a bed."

Emilia searched his face, unable to tell whether she felt relieved, or strangely disappointed.

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