Celeste takes a deep breath in and out before lifting her hand to pass the leather piece. Just before she can take her hand from me, I hold it, giving her a signal of reassurance she has given me time and time before. Her shoulders begin to settle, the way her body leans into Masters as she lets the moment guide us like a current. I lose focus of the heavy object when Master lowers his lips and begins the sweet torment of running his lips and hands over Celeste’s body, before pulling her from the table. Far too desperate to hold her, my steps go closer to her until I am between the table and her body. The heat radiates from her exposed skin as her ass grinds against my thighs, exposed by my lifted dress. Without warning, Master turned her body to me, and now I was faced with them both, looking at me with a hunger that I craved to satisfy. Celeste’s hands are daring as she settles between the centre of my thighs, running her fingers up and down the dampening

"Miss Evita, we are here." Harold's announcement shakes me back into place. Looking out the window, I see that I have reached the house. The large navy and white mid-century modern home, brought a feeling of new life and a fresh start. Celeste would get her studio at the back in the large outhouse, we would find a place for Angel's grand piano, and I would have a chance to design my new studio. There was also a good tease on the planning of the new playroom. This would be our home, not just a house but a place to call ours in heart and soul. Thanking Harold, I step out of the car and notice that Celeste reached the house before me. This was evident by her Audi in front of the garage beside another, probably the realtor. Buying that car was extremely exciting for her. Knowing that she had earned every penny from her art gave her this rise of accomplishment. I can still remember when she told us during dinner. I understood why she was so excited. Angel had naturally provided so much f

Reaching the room door, I rush in, dropping all that was in my hands. Rushing around for Celeste, I hear her, so I follow the sounds of heavy sobs. What I see is the sight of a woman as strong as any could come broken as she holds her knees to her chest on the bed. Rushing towards her, I find myself next to her, bringing her into my hold. Her body shakes in a sound of destruction, and the death of the heart leaves her. She cries, lord she cries her heart, soul and belief into my arms. My only job is to hold her to let her know that she is not alone. She is safe in my arms. How do we move on from this, where do we start, where do we go, how do we rebuild? The questions rush around my head as I rock the girl I love in my arms. It is about an hour into it all when she finally falls asleep in my arms. Silence lets me know this, so I move strategically to make sure that she does not shake away too much until she is laid on the bed. Her body curled closer into the

Closing the door behind me, I drop the dance bag in the closet beside the entrance. My body is tired, I walk to the kitchen for water and something to eat. The apartment is quiet, and Celeste is working late again. She does come home from the studio, but when she does, it's late enough for her not to have to speak of what she was going through, where her mind was, and what her heart was feeling. It's been almost a week since I've seen her for more than four hours in the two weeks we have been here. The first few days when we moved in, she was distant, but at least she was here. She wouldn't speak much, telling me that she just needed to collect her thoughts. Instead of collecting her thoughts, she moved her presence and distanced herself. Every moment she was not here, I hated the thought of what could happen if she lost her strength if she couldn't handle the betrayal and went to find something to make it feel better. No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't do that t

Carefully I slip my bag over my shoulder, collecting my bag from the cab, I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. The name flashing across the screen sends me back into a place of perpetual sadness. Angel. I have chosen not to block him, but instead not answering his constant calls has had me debating on whether or not I want to. Honestly, it was the thought of what his words would be once I heard him that I was unsure of what would happen and what I would say.The phone rings until it goes to voicemail, one of many that I was not listening to. I might not know what they say, but if there is one thing I did know. He was sorry. It just didn't feel like enough, not now at least.When I stepped into the hallway of the apartment, standing outside my door, the name was the caller I had just avoided. In a full grey striped suit and simple black coat, he stood there in the glory that was his aura regardless of what he was doing. Though I could see bags under his eyes, the type he