Coffee and Cream

The Shift

                                                                                        DARCELLE

Emrys lay beneath me, his body relaxed but taut beneath the softness of my own. Our faces close, lips brushing, tasting each other like a long-lost secret. His white shirt was wrinkled now, slightly open, revealing the pale line of his chest that I traced lazily with my fingertips. I wore the matching white top he liked on me, and the thong I knew drove him insane. The lighting in the room was perfect—dim and warm, casting shadows across the disheveled bedding that told the story of the last few hours.

He had returned without warning, slipping back into my life after disappearing for days. I hated that he did that, but it was part of the thrill—never knowing when he'd show up, always leaving me aching for more. He said he had to go home for his father's birthday, something about Jamaica too. His life seemed a distant world from ours, yet when he was here, he made everything feel so immediate, so intense.

I liked the souvenir bikini he brought me. The colorful beads he draped over my neck earlier as I had straddled him felt cool against my skin, a sharp contrast to the heat between us. I had whispered in his ear how much I had missed him and how empty the bed felt without him pounding into me. And he didn't disappoint—since this morning, we had gone five rounds, taking small breaks, but only to catch our breaths. My pussy throbbed, overused and sore from the way he claimed me each time, and yet I couldn't stop wanting more. I loved it when he was like this—brutal, unrelenting, but always leaving me trembling for more.

I ran my fingers down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He met my gaze, dark eyes flickering with curiosity. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low, slightly rough from the exertion of our lovemaking.

I leaned down, kissing his neck softly before whispering against his skin. "I'm hungry."

He laughed, the sound vibrating against my lips. "What do you want to eat?" His fingers slid down my back, tracing the curve of my spine, making me shiver.

"Fish and chips," I said with a smirk, not bothering to move away from him.

He reached over for his phone, still lying back, his body warm beneath mine as he placed the order effortlessly. "Done."

There was something about being with him like this—so casual—that made everything feel more dangerous. Sometimes, I wish we could go out in public, walk hand-in-hand, and have a simple meal without the constant fear of running into someone we knew. But that wasn't our reality, was it? Our world was confined to moments like this—behind closed doors, tangled in sheets, where no one could see or judge us.

I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "You know," I murmured, my lips brushing his skin, "sometimes I wish we could be seen together. Out there. No hiding."

He didn't answer immediately. His fingers trailed through my hair, pulling lightly as he tilted my head up to look at him. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes—something dark and possessive. "You know why we can't, Darcelle. But in here... you're all mine. No one else exists."

His words sent a thrill down my spine, a dark promise wrapped in sweetness. It was that possessive tone, that cold edge to his love, that made him irresistible. I leaned in, pressing my lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss, the taste of his lips familiar and intoxicating.

"And you're mine," I whispered against his mouth, my hand sliding lower, teasing, reminding him I could be just as dangerous, just as possessive.

His hand gripped my waist, pulling me tighter against him. "Always," he whispered back, his voice low and dark, making the air between us heavy with unspoken promises.