Fifty Shades of BLACK SILK

BLACK SILK: Part 16

***Sorry it's been so long! When I saw when I last posted I was shocked. So much was going on (mostly bad) but I'm trying to get back on track! Thank you for being so patient and supportive and always requesting more! Thank you and I hope you enjoy! Soul xo***

"So this is my place," you say, opening the door. "It's not much," you chuckle awkwardly.

With his hands in his pockets Christian slowly walks to the middle of the room and scans the area. You wonder if he secretly doesn't want to touch anything and that's why his hands are in his pockets.

He breathes in. "Small."

Your face heats with what you're sure is crimson. "Well, it's no double story high rise."

He smiles making your bottom lip quiver. "I don't mean it as an insult." He brushes his fingertips across your sofa and it moves like a snake prancing across sand dunes, leaving a dark trace across the fur from whence his fingers first touched. He brings his eyes to the coffee table ridden with remotes and magazines next to a laptop. "Where the magic happens I'm sure."

"Hmm?"

He gestures to the laptop. "You work here? No study?"

You shrug. "The study is anywhere I can find a table. I have one in my bedroom actually."

"Is it a big girl study; or, one with little Barbie and Ken stickers?" He jokes.

You roll your eyes. "Don't play with me like that."

"Oh, but I love to play," he mumbles. You force yourself to ignore it, but the effort to ignore it makes you think about it even more. "Fix me a glass of water with ice, please?" His chin is low and he peers up through his lashes. A deviance is on his mind and it quickens your heart. Your legs move like rubber and are harder to lift. One step; two step; three step; heat prickles the back of your neck. You pray he doesn't notice.

You attempt to maintain a safe distance from him but even the distance can't keep from his hands stroking yours as the cold, tinkling glass is exchanged. Your heart jolts harshly before the drop of the beat pushes you back. It's much easier to move away from him, but you trip slightly as he holds your gaze, placing the rim of the glass and sipping the water. You look for his tongue and are grateful it's hard to make out through warping waves.

"Don't," you whisper way too low for him to hear. You can't take it. He's burning you from the inside out!

A cube of ice slips into his mouth and he holds it between his teeth before clutching it in a claw grip before caressing the surface with his tongue. You furrow your brows, unable to bear it, although unable to turn away either. Nothing could save you now. Until he crunches the last bit of the cube and swallows, his Adam's apple poking up and down, snaps you out of his trance and you blink like a cartoon.

He chuckles lowly. "Show you me your bedroom."

You obey immediately, though his didn't ask in a way where you had to. You open the door for him and he slips in, closer to you than he needed to be. "Small, too, I guess."

"Mmm," he nods. He turns around and takes off his coat. Then, he clutches your stomach and gently pushes you up against the wall. "Tell me you want me."

"Christian—" you murmur.

"Tell me," he breathes, the warm of which catches your face.

You want to so badly. "I can't."

"Why not? I want you."

"Professional..." you struggle to speak.

"Fuck professionalism."

"You'd fuck anything," you joke.

He grins. "I want you." He pauses. "I'm hard."

You almost melt at the size of it. "I can't. I need..."

"What? What do you need, tell me and I'll get it for you. Money is no option."

You look up. "I need time."