Unforgivable Love

The Aftermath

~ Heya, the author here! I wrote this at like 2 AM so don't be surprised if I change things up, or completely rewrite it! ~


The sheets were warm, the lingering images of Aspen dancing throughout his mind a reminder of the intense encounter he'd shared with Aspen just a day before. Onyx lay sprawled across his bed, his naked form glistening with sweat and arousal. His skin was a light golden hue, a stark contrast to the crisp white linens beneath him. Broad shoulders tapered to a defined waist, narrowing further to his hips. Long legs were spread wide, muscles taut and glistening.

His room was a stark contrast to the opulence of the clubs he frequented. The walls were a plain, dusty gray, the only adornment a single painting - a grim depiction of a battlefield, the aftermath of conflict. The floor was bare wood, save for a threadbare rug in the center. A plain wooden dresser held his clothes, a few books, and a small television. The air hung heavy with the scent of old paper and stale coffee, a reminder of the solitude that had often filled the space.

Onyx's gaze roamed over the room, a dispassionate survey of the familiar surroundings. He felt a strange detachment, his mind still caught up in the whirlwind of emotions sparked by his encounter with Aspen. The disdain he felt for her simmered beneath the surface, a constant undercurrent to his hunger for her, especially after seeing her at the club hours ago.

Aspen... the very name made his blood boil. She was a tempest, a wildfire that had consumed him. Her fiery spirit had drawn him in, her body a temptation he could not resist. Yet, a part of him despised himself for the weakness that had allowed her to break down his defenses.

Their encounter had taken place in his office just a day ago. The memory of her touch set his skin ablaze, her moans echoing in his mind. He'd tasted her, explored her, claimed her. And yet, in the aftermath, he felt only a hollow emptiness. Aspen was a woman made for fleeting moments, fulfilling his primal instincts, not for the kind of connection she had craved.

A low growl escaped his lips as he rolled onto his side, his gaze fixed on the bare wall. His mind swirled, reliving the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands, the taste of her lips, the way her body had arched beneath his. He could still hear her breathless cries, her words of surrender.

In the silence of his room, Onyx's body betrayed his conflicted emotions. His arousal was undeniable, a physical reminder of the desire that still burned brightly despite his rational mind's desire to push her away. With a groan, he reached beneath the pillow, pulling out a worn-out magazine. Its pages were filled with images of women, their bodies enticing, their expressions inviting. But none could compare to the memory of Aspen.

As he flipped through the glossy pages, Onyx's mind wandered back to his office. The sleek mahogany desk, the plush leather chair, the window overlooking the city - it had been the perfect stage for their encounter. He decided to take her there, driven by a hunger he couldn't deny, a need to possess her. Her eyes had met his, a challenge and a promise all in one.

He'd made her wait, building the anticipation, his gaze traveling over her body as if memorizing every curve. Then, with a swift movement, he'd taken her, his hands exploring, his lips devouring. Her cries had filled the room, mingling with his own ragged breaths. He'd lost himself in the sensation of her body beneath him, in the rhythmic tightening of her muscles as she climaxed.

But even as he relived the memory, Onyx knew it was tinged with bitterness. It had been a moment of pure animalistic desire, not a connection, not a bond. And yet, a part of him craved that very thing, craved what Aspen had wanted from him.

A harsh laugh escaped his lips as he tossed the discarded magazine aside. What was he doing, reliving this? Trying to make sense of the chaos within him? It was futile, a waste of time. He was Onyx, a man of control, not a man to be swayed by a woman's temperamental whims.