Just One Orgasm!

Music Recommendation: Keep Me by Novo Amor.

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"My mother."

The words barely rose above a whisper. Yet they crashed through Emilia like thunder. She stared at him for a long moment.

For one impossible moment, she thought she had heard him wrong.

"Your mother?"

Adrian didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes drifted away from hers, settling somewhere beyond the windows where the city lights blurred into nothing.

Emilia felt her fingers loosen against his skin.

Her heart dropped, and she felt dust rising to her mouth. "No..."

The word escaped before she could stop it.

"No."

Her brows pulled together. She searched his expression for the smallest sign that he was joking.

There wasn’t one.

"You mean..." Her throat tightened. "Your mother did that to you?"

A faint smile crossed Adrian’s lips. It wasn’t amusement.

It was the kind of smile people wore when they had repeated the same truth so many times that it had become strangely ordinary.

"Yes."

Emilia slowly lowered her hands.

She couldn’t reconcile the image in her mind.

A mother.

She couldn’t imagine the woman who carried you, who kissed scraped knees, who stayed awake through fevers, and who tucked blankets around sleeping children doing that.

Absent-mindedly, she parted her lips. "My mother used to wake me before school," she whispered, almost to herself.

Adrian looked at her.

"She’d make breakfast before I was even out of bed." A sad smile trembled across her lips. "If I pretended to still be asleep, she’d brush my hair away from my face."

She swallowed, and raised her eyes to Adrian. "I thought everyone’s mother did things like that or close to." She whispered apologetically, with a now grey face.

Silence settled between them.

Adrian gave a quiet, humourless chuckle. "I suppose they do."

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "For as long as I can remember..." He paused. "I’d get three burns every morning."

Emilia’s breath caught.

He spoke with frightening calmness. "As long as she was in a good mood." His eyes remained fixed somewhere far away. "If she wasn’t..."

Another humourless laugh escaped him. "It usually became more."

The room suddenly felt colder.

"She was almost always in a bad mood."

Emilia simply stared at him. Her stomach sank. Her lips parted, closed, then parted again.

Nothing came out.

She didn’t know what to say.

What words existed for something like that?

"I’m..." She shook her head helplessly. "I don’t understand."

She stopped herself from speaking. All she had to give was endless empathy and he wouldn’t want that now.

Tears gathered anyway.

Emilia looked at him as though seeing him for the first time.

The cigarette burns, the scars, the way he always seemed to carry himself with impossible control, and the way he never raised his voice unless absolutely necessary.

Pieces quietly shifted into place.

"Oh, Adrian..."

She stepped forward again. This time she didn’t touch his face. She simply wrapped both arms around him tightly.

As tightly as she could.

He stood still for several seconds without returning the gesture.

Then, slowly, his arms came around her. He rested his chin lightly against the top of her head.

Neither of them spoke.

The silence somehow said more than words could.

After what felt like forever, Adrian let out a quiet hum. He leaned down, and his lips brushed hers in the briefest kiss.

When he drew back, a faint smile lingered on his face.

"We shouldn’t ruin dinner, sweetheart."

Emilia looked at him. Her eyes lifted with remarkable softness. "After everything you just told me..."

"You’ll scold me if the chef’s work goes to waste."

Despite herself, a tiny laugh escaped her.

He smiled at her. "There you are." He sniffed, and inhaled sharply. "Brighten the room with a smile, would you?"

Emilia lips curled up into a full beautiful smile. Her breathing steadied, and her heart went back to normal.

He guided her toward the beautifully prepared table.

The candles still burned steadily, the roses remained untouched, and the silver covers were lifted.

Course after course appeared exactly as planned. Each dish had been prepared with impossible care.

Neither of them paid much attention.

Emilia barely remembered what she ate after Adrian lowered her to her seat. She tasted only enough for Adrian to stop quietly encouraging her.

He didn’t eat much either.

Every so often she caught him staring out at the city, lost somewhere she couldn’t follow.

Eventually, she reached across the table.

Her fingers found his. He turned his hand over without thinking, their fingers weaving together naturally.

She felt guilty and apologetic for forcing words out of him. However, she swallowed her apology down.

Much later, the dinner had ended.

The candles had burned lower, and the violin music had long since faded into gentle silence.

Adrian loosened his tie before sitting on the edge of the enormous bed occupying the adjoining suite.

Emilia looked at him.

Without discussing it, she climbed onto the bed beside him. Neither of them bothered removing their shoes, or changing out of their evening clothes.

She simply lay down first.

He followed.

She shifted instinctively until her head rested against the centre of his chest. His heartbeat echoed steadily beneath her ear.

She wrapped both arms around his waist.

He responded just as naturally. One arm settled around the small of her back.

The other rested lightly across her side, holding her close without ever feeling restrictive.

For a long while, neither of them moved.

Adrian lowered his face into her side-swept hair.

The familiar scent of vanilla filled the quiet room. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts drifted somewhere he hadn’t visited in years.

Emilia listened quietly to the rhythm of his heart.

She wondered how many nights that little boy had fallen asleep believing the world was supposed to hurt.

Her arms tightened around him almost imperceptibly. She didn’t say she was sorry.

Sorry could never be enough.

Instead, she simply stayed. They remained that way for what felt like an eternity.

The room had become so quiet that Emilia could hear the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath her ear.

Adrian’s fingers moved first. Very carefully, they found one of the delicate pins holding her hair in place.

He paused, glancing down at her. "You’ve still got half a salon pinned to your head."

A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of Emilia’s lips. "I forgot."

With practiced gentleness, he slid the first pin free.

She felt the slightest release of tension against her scalp. One by one, he eased them loose, taking his time so that not a single strand caught.

Each tiny pin landed softly on the bedside table beside him with a quiet metallic click.

As more of them disappeared, her dark hair slowly slipped free, cascading across his shoulder, over his chest, and onto the pillow around them.

He ran his fingers through it once, carefully separating the strands where they had been held in place all evening.

"There." His voice was little more than a murmur. "That looks more comfortable."

Emilia smiled without opening her eyes. "It does."

His fingertips lingered for another moment before settling once more against the small of her back.

Silence wrapped itself around them again.

After a while, Adrian spoke so quietly she almost thought she had imagined it.

"I’d rather you remember me like this than remember where I came from."

Her eyes opened slowly. He wasn’t looking at her. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

"I’m alright now." A small pause followed. "And I intend to keep surviving it."

He finally lowered his eyes to meet hers.

"So don’t let tonight become heavier than it needs to be." His thumb traced a slow, reassuring circle against her back. "I’d rather be the reason you sleep peacefully than the reason you lie awake."

Her chest tightened.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she nestled a little closer until she could hear his heartbeat more clearly.

A soft smile spread across her face.

Her arms tightened around him, holding him just a little more firmly than before.

Adrian returned the embrace without another word.

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