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Written by PaintedZipper

Quiet, she tells me, the word a gentle hum. Her gaze keeps drifting to the side, as though she’s waiting for the bedroom door to swing open. As though her friends aren’t blissfully unaware, lost in the sound of a raging bass and strong liqueur.

My only answer is to laugh. The sound is muffled against her skin and when she gives a laugh of her own, I can smell the vodka on her breath. When we kiss, I can taste it, too. It’s a sharp contrast to the sweet balm that she placed on her lips earlier in the night and I can only faintly taste the strawberries.

Quiet. It’s a mantra that’s repeated through the night. As my fingers run along her gentle curves, dig into her pale skin, press against her throat. She says it and I say it and we both think it – because no one should know about what we’re doing up here, behind this closed door. No one should see.

Every time someone passes by the room, she goes tense against me. Her eyes snap to the door and she does her best to go still. Some times I do too. Most of the time, I don’t. There’s something about watching her struggle to muffle her own sounds that makes my chest go tight.

I leave bruises on her and she marks me by raking nails along my sides. But she’s meek and it shows in the way that she folds beneath me, letting me guide her where I please. She’s hesitant and gentle. Everything about her is soft – face and breasts, voice and eyes. This is a new experience for her and an old one for me.

It’s what I like about her, I think. The fact that she doesn’t know what to expect. The fact that she doesn’t know how to respond. It amazes me how much of a difference that makes but she isn’t like anyone else that I’ve ever been with.

I’m not usually quiet.

My voice is loud and my actions are harsh. But for her, I hold it back. My teeth sink into her flesh when the words bubble too close to the surface. I muffle my words with her mouth and skin, let copper tinge my tongue, stay quiet, always quiet, because that’s what she wants and this is what I want.

Her, beneath me.

Her, pressed against me.

Her, breathing my name and holding me close and trying oh so hard to be quiet. When she fails, I can’t help but grin.

“Quiet,” I remind her, voice chiding.

She looks up at me with those big eyes of her. I can see the innocence there, shining in the dim light of the room.

I pride myself on the fact that it won’t be there for long. It will be snuffed out and long forgotten by the end of the night. I’ll make sure of that.

But…for just a little while longer…I let her stay quiet.

Photographer: Subtle Shades Photography

Model: Chloe Grant