If the Sun Never Sets

by Ana Huang

  Farrah gripped the counter with one hand and grasped his hair with the other, pulling so hard it hurt, but the pain only made him want her more. Her panting groans grew in length and intensity. The muscles in her thighs stiffened, and he knew she was about to explode. Blake considered prolonging her orgasm, pulling back and bringing her to the edge and pulling back again until she begged him to let her come, but he was so hard he might shatter if he didn’t bury himself inside her in the next two minutes.

  He drew her clit into his mouth once more and sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the tender bud as he did so, while he slammed his fingers deep inside her until they reached her sweet spot. Farrah screamed a wild, breathless scream that reverberated through the bathroom and sang through Blake like the world’s most erotic symphony. Her hips bucked against his face, over and over, as her orgasm quaked through her. She thrashed so hard he had to pull his fingers out of her dripping core and pin her hips down with both hands lest she slid off the counter. Meanwhile, his hungry mouth devoured her, lapping up her juices, not wanting to miss a single drop. To his surprise, Farrah came again, even harder this time.

  Blake waited until her last shudders subsided and she collapsed in a heap against the wall before he raised himself off the ground, so they were at eye level. Fuck, she was gorgeous. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a tousled cloud of midnight silk. Her flushed cheeks and red lips had him throbbing with desire, and her eyes, heavy-lidded and hazy with post-coital bliss, peered out at him from beneath thick dark lashes.

  “I think it’s time for me to return the favor.” Farrah’s throaty promise sent another shot of lust straight to his groin.

  Blake didn’t resist when she slid off the counter and made quick work of his briefs, but when she kneeled, he grasped her arms and pulled her back up.

  Farrah’s brow furrowed.

  “Not tonight,” he said. “I need to fuck you. Right now.”

  She didn’t say it, but she didn’t need to. It was written all over face. Tonight is the only night we have.

  The burst of anger came out of nowhere. It knotted in Blake’s stomach, fed by desperation. He wanted to grab Farrah’s shoulders and shake her. Make her see what was in front of them. But he couldn’t, so he settled for closing the distance between them until her back hit the counter and his hard arousal pressed against her soft center.

  “Tell me how you want it,” he growled. “Sweet and slow, or hard and rough?”

  Farrah’s eyes flickered with excitement. Her chest rose and fell in short pants of breath. “Hard and rough,” she whispered.

  A feral smile slashed across his face. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  She cried out as he spun her around and bent her over the sink. He fished his wallet out of his jeans pocket and took out a condom—he always had one on him, just in case—and sheathed himself in it before he returned to the tantalizing sight of Farrah’s glistening arousal.

  “Spread your legs wider,” Blake commanded.

  She obeyed without hesitation.

  Blake grabbed her hips, pressing his thumbs into her soft flesh, and leaned over until his breath tickled her ear. “Is this what you really want?”

  “Yes,” Farrah whimpered. The whimper turned into a full-on cry when Blake slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt.

  “Jesus,” he hissed. “You’re so tight.” Tighter than a fist, hotter than an inferno, and so damn wet he almost lost it in one stroke like a pre-pubescent boy.

  Blake tightened his jaw, trying to regain control before he started moving.

  Farrah whined and squirmed against him.

  “Impatient,” he teased. He reached around to stroke her swollen clit, taking great satisfaction in the shudder that rippled through her body.

  “Fuck me.” She gave the command this time, and Blake obeyed the way she had for him. He couldn’t have waited any longer even if he wanted to.

  He withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained inside her, then drove forward again in a vicious thrust that pitched her forward.

  Blake pounded into her mercilessly, letting her moans and throaty screams drive him harder, deeper, faster.

  This wasn’t making love. Farrah didn’t want that, and frankly, neither did he. What he wanted was to bury himself so deep she’d never forget him, to fuck her so hard he imprinted on her, to take her so high she’d realize they were meant for more than one night.

  Blake angled himself so his dick rubbed against her clit with each downward stroke. He watched them in the mirror—her eyes closed and mouth slack with arousal, his own mouth set in a grim line as he made her take all of him, over and over, until there was no doubt in either of their minds that she was his, at least for tonight.

  He fisted her hair and tugged it back just as he sent her jolting forward with a savage thrust. Farrah’s eyes snapped open. His name flew from her lips in a strangled cry as she quaked around him, her third orgasm of the night rolling over them both like an out-of-control train. She twisted and writhed, her body desperate to convulse, but Blake forced her to hold still and ride out her climax without mercy.

  Just as her shudders eased, he slammed into her again. And again. And again. He didn’t know how long they stayed in that bathroom, but it was only when Farrah pleaded exhaustion after her sixth or seventh orgasm that he unleashed his iron grip on self-control.

  Blake spun Farrah round to face him. His mouth descended on hers, hungry and desperate. She returned the kiss with fervor—her nails digging grooves into the skin on his back, her tongue chasing his as she moaned helplessly into his mouth. Blake accepted her surrender, the only surrender she would give him.

  He increased the pace of his thrusts until Farrah’s sweet taste and tight heat sent him over the edge. The orgasm he’d been holding in all night burst forth with a ferocity that had him seeing stars. Farrah said she was spent, but once again, she surprised him with another explosion, her cries mingling with his as they free-fell into oblivion and collapsed into each other’s arms.

  Blake closed his eyes, savoring her warmth and etching it in his mind before he withdrew from her. He rolled the condom off and tossed it in the trash.

  He swept a cautious gaze over Farrah’s face, trying to gauge her feelings now that the high from their sex session had worn off. She looked content and satiated, but he couldn’t read her expression beyond that.

  “How are you feeling?” He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. An ache swirled in his chest. They used to lie awake all night, talking about their dreams and fears and wishes for the future. What he would give for one of those nights now.

  “Amazing.” Farrah grinned, her eyes sparkling. “That was amazing. Just what I needed.”

  Blake’s hand froze. One by one, the pleasant aftershocks of his climax turned into petrified stone and dropped into the pit that had opened up in his stomach.

  It’s what we need.

  One night to get each other out of our systems.

  This is just sex.

  He knew that. Hell, he’d agreed to it less than an hour ago. Still, he thought…

  Blake’s jaw clenched. “I’m glad.” He dropped his hand from Farrah’s face and avoided her gaze as he pulled on his briefs and jeans. “It worked, then.”

  A beat of silence. “What did?”

  Blake forced himself to look at her, even though the sight of her face twisted the knife in his heart that much deeper. “You fucked me out of your system.”

  Farrah inhaled sharply. Her eyes glistened with wariness and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. “Blake…”

  “I’m happy to be of service.” He smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. “One night, right?”

  A part of him—a stupid, foolish part—hoped she’d refute him. Tell him she wanted more than what she’d been willing to give.

  But that hope was a balloon waiting to be punctured.

  “Right,” Farrah whispered.

  The air leaked out, slowly but surely, until
the balloon was just a crumpled heap of what used to be.

  Farrah gathered her clothes off the floor and got dressed. She stopped in the doorway to look back at Blake, indecision scrawled all over her face, before she left and took the jagged pieces of his heart with her.

  Blake stood rigid, unmoving, until he heard the front door close. Only then did he allow his shoulders to sag. He lowered his head and rested his forearms on the counter, too tired to hold himself up.

  He could still smell her. Taste her. Hear her. And when he looked at himself in the mirror, he appeared older somehow, as heartbreak seeped through his skin and hardened him from the inside out.

  Turn one night into multiple nights.

  He’d taken a gamble.

  And he’d lost.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  One week later

  “This is the perfect night.” Farrah nibbled on a chocolate square and sighed in bliss. Chocolate made everything better. “It’s so good to see you guys.”

  “I’m so happy to be here.” Courtney Taylor squeezed Farrah’s arm, her blue eyes twinkling with delight. “Spokane is nice, but it bores the shit out of me.”

  “Why don’t you move back to Seattle?” Farrah couldn’t imagine someone as larger-than-life and outgoing as Courtney living anywhere but a big city, but the brunette had moved two years ago to Spokane, Washington for a sales manager job at a small manufacturing company.

  Courtney shrugged. A shadow of unease passed over her face. “I’m over Seattle.”

  Before she could elaborate, Olivia traipsed over with Kris Carrera in tow. They both held freshly poured glasses of merlot and cabernet sauvignon, respectively. “We’re back! What’d we miss?”

  “We were just catching up.” Farrah grinned when she saw Kris’s Prada sunglasses. The wealthy Filipina was the only person she knew who wore sunglasses at night—and indoors.

  She supposed Kris had good reason to hide her face, given she was engaged to A-list Hollywood star Nate Reynolds, and the paparazzi constantly chased them down. Nate was in town filming his latest movie, and Kris had decided to accompany him and surprise Farrah and Olivia. She’d convinced Courtney to come along as well so they could have a mini FEA reunion.

  The four girls had been thick as thieves when they studied abroad together in Shanghai. They weren’t as close anymore, since Farrah and Olivia lived in New York and Courtney and Kris lived on the West Coast, but whenever they saw each other, it was as if no time had passed at all.

  Kris removed her sunglasses and scanned the cozy bar. “This place is okay.” No one bothered them, though a few people snuck surreptitious glances at Kris. That was the good thing about New York—locals left celebrities alone, and there was no place more local, or exclusive, than Elysian, a wine and chocolate bar tucked deep in the West Village. “Decent wine and atmosphere.”

  Coming from Kris, that praise was akin to a Michelin star.

  “Of course it is.” Olivia tossed her hair over her shoulder. She was the one who’d picked the spot. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  “Never.” Courtney grinned, her earlier unease gone. “So, what are we doing after this? Clubbing? Bar crawl? Rave? Underground house party?”

  Farrah winced. She’d loved partying with Courtney in Shanghai, and she was still down for a night on the town every now and then, but she’d reached a point in her life where she’d much rather curl up with Netflix and a pint of ice cream than get smushed by a pile of sweaty bodies in some pretentious club.

  “Sorry, babe.” A sly smile spread across Kris’s face. “Nate’s shoot finishes soon, and I’m planning to reward him for a hard day’s work.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of “reward” Kris had planned.

  “And I have work due tomorrow morning.” Olivia yawned.

  “But it’s Saturday tomorrow,” Courtney protested.

  “The world of finance never rests.”

  Courtney pouted. “Farrah?”

  “Um.” As much as Farrah loved her friend, the thought of attending a wild party tonight was as appealing as a root canal without Novocain. She couldn’t think of a good excuse, so she went with the truth. “I’m not feeling up to it tonight. Sorry.”

  “Boo.” Courtney’s shoulders slumped before she perked up again. “Isn’t Sammy in town? He’ll go with me.”

  Olivia snorted, a sign of derisiveness that didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Don’t tell me you guys still aren’t speaking to each other,” Kris said. “How can you stay mad at him? It’s Sammy!”

  “So?”

  “So, he’s the most likable guy on the planet.”

  “You’re not the one who dated him,” Olivia grumbled. “You don’t know what he said to me.”

  Farrah, Courtney, and Kris exchanged glances.

  “Do you know?” Courtney mouthed at Farrah, who’d been in New York the same summer Olivia and Sammy broke up. The summer after FEA.

  Farrah shook her head. She’d been distracted that summer by her internship and recent breakup with Blake, but from what she saw, things had been going swell between Sammy and Olivia until the tail end of August. Stony glares and cold rebuffs cut off Farrah’s attempts to find out what happened.

  After a while, she’d stopped trying.

  “Also, Sammy isn’t as perfect as you think it is. He won’t even tell Farrah the truth about Blake.” Olivia gulped her wine in a way wine was not meant to be gulped.

  Farrah was so startled by the sight of Olivia breaking wine etiquette she didn’t notice Courtney’s and Kris’s gazes focusing on her until their heat pierced her skin.

  “What’s the truth about Blake?” Courtney’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars at the prospect of juicy gossip.

  Farrah had told Kris and Courtney about Blake’s interior design project, but she hadn’t mentioned Sammy’s cryptic advice at brunch.

  “I don’t know.” Farrah touched the pendant resting at the base of her throat. “Like Liv said, Sammy didn’t tell me.”

  “He told her to ask Blake about her necklace the next time she saw him,” Olivia clarified. “Big help that is.”

  Kris arched one sleek, well-groomed brow. “Did you? Ask Blake the next time you saw him?”

  Not exactly.

  Farrah thanked God for dim lighting and Asian glow—her cheeks were already flushed from chardonnay—because she couldn’t stop the blanket of heat creeping its way from the top of her head all the way to her toes. Every time she thought about what happened in Blake’s bathroom last week, her womb clenched, and wetness pooled between her thighs.

  She’d never seen Blake like that. There were times he’d been rough in Shanghai, but the other night? He’d been an animal. Feral. Merciless.

  And she’d loved every second.

  Whether it was Blake or the pent-up frustration from a year without sex—or, most likely, a combination of both—Farrah had, oh, the top five orgasms of her life in one night.

  It worked then. You fucked me out of your system.

  “Farrah?” Kris prompted.

  Did she get him out of her system? She wasn’t so sure.

  Farrah thought one last fling with Blake would give her the closure she needed, but now her body craved him more than ever. It hungered for him to return, to fill her again, and when he wasn’t there, it turned its ire on her, torturing her with its insatiable neediness until she wanted to cry from frustration.

  Her plan to fuck him out of her system, as Blake so succinctly put it, had hopelessly backfired.

  But it wasn’t just her hormones. Farrah couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Blake’s face when she left. He tried to hide it, but she saw it clear as day: utter heartbreak. And even though he was the one who’d wronged her first, the sight wrenched her gut in a way it had no right doing.

  “Farrah!” Kris’s voice shattered Farrah’s inner turmoil and caused her to jump.

  As a result, Farrah knocked the half-empty glass closest to
her off the table with her elbow. She watched in horror as the glass tumbled toward the ground in slow motion, ready to splinter into a million pieces, before Courtney’s arm shot out and caught it at the last moment.

  “All good.” She placed the now quarter-empty glass on the table. “Just a small spill.”

  “Sorry.” The heat on Farrah’s cheeks intensified. She grabbed her napkin and was about to clean up her mess when their server swooped in.

  “I’ll take care of it,” she assured the table.

  “Sorry,” Farrah repeated.

  “You never answered my question.” Kris’s mouth twitched, as if she were trying not to laugh.

  “What was it again?”

  “Did you ask Blake about your necklace?”

  “Um, no.”

  She didn’t ask him the other night because she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but now, sitting here with her friends from Shanghai, the curiosity ate at her.

  Would it be so bad to find out the truth? Maybe it wasn’t a big deal, and she was just hyping it up in her mind.

  Farrah did a quick mental calculation. They were in the West Village, and Blake’s apartment was a ten-minute walk away.

  She’d finished the design project a few days ago. Blake had said (via text) he didn’t need a final walkthrough, and she hadn’t pushed him for one. He should’ve moved back into the apartment by now.

  Technically, she told him one night of sex. She didn’t say that was the last night they had to see each other. Besides, she had a valid question to ask him.

  “Oh, no,” Olivia said. “I know that look. Your contract with Blake is done. Finito. You don’t need to get involved with him anymore. Forget about the necklace. Sammy was probably making shit up.”

  “Sammy doesn’t make stuff up. And you were the one who brought up the necklace,” Farrah pointed out.

  “Potato, potahtoe. My point is, leave Blake alone.”

  “Too late,” Farrah mumbled.

  “What?” Olivia frowned, then gasped. “No. You didn’t.”