Why the ceilings are always white? Why not black, or grey, or beige? Why always white?Nick thought about this for a few more minutes before sighing and seating on the edge of his bed. He looks around, the room still a bit dark, just a small light coming in as the clock hits almost six in the morning and the sun is starting to rise.He gets up and goes to the window, opens more the curtains to let more light on, and the window to get some new air and access the balcony. He always liked to wake up early, the view of the cliffs from his bedroom is something almost magical. The birds singing, the quiet, the cold wind. Yeah, this would forever be his happy place.He spends a few minutes sat on the floor watching the sunrise before walking back into his room. Now, more lightened it’s clear that’s not a small bedroom. On his right it’s a king-size bed with white and red sheets rested against the black wall and a recamier, or as it’s commonly known, a bedroom bench in front of it.To his left,. ”He grips my wrists tighter above my head and starts grinding harder. I wrap my legs around him and raise my hips to meet his each of his body’s waves. Uncontrollable moans erupt from my throat and I want him to kiss me. And I know that he knows I want him to kiss me. That’s why he’s not doing it. He’s driving me crazy.“I think we should stop, Quinnie,” he whispers. He stops grinding and looks down at me.“We can’t.”“Owen loves you,” he says. He lets go of my wrists and we stare at each other for several seconds, neither of us saying a word.“You can’t stop,” I say.“I have to.”“You can’t.”“Quinnie, listen--”“I love you, James. I love you.” The words spill out of me and I fucking mean them. “I don’t love him. I love you. And I need you. Please, James. Please don’t stop. Please.”He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.“Fuck.”Before I know it, he’s already moved my panties aside and shoved himself inside me. I gasp and arch my back. He laces his fingers through mine and pins my hands on.
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