Pure Requiem by Aja James

Author:Aja James [James, Aja]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 53178217
Published: 2020-11-05T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine: If This Love Is Pain, Let’s Hurt Tonight

*TAL*

It is already autumn in New York City, but this evening, the air is unseasonably warm. I can smell the clean scent of humidity; the clouds are burgeoning with rain.

As Ishtar and I exit through the private door to our secluded rooftop garden, I inhale deeply the exotic mix of fragrances therein.

A small patch of paradise in this concrete jungle.

The garden encompasses the entire rooftop, about five-thousand square feet in size, expanding beyond the perimeter of our apartment. Ingeniously, it is enclosed on three sides by the towers that extend up into the sky as part of the “skyscraper” that houses the Shield. On the one side that is open, the Bay meets the horizon, while other tall buildings rise like man-made mountains around the water.

There are no windows in the towers that shield our garden from view. And unless one of those modern aircrafts hover directly overhead, no one would be able to spy on our little slice of heaven.

Fruit and flower trees have been transplanted here with laborious care. Some even large enough to provide shade on a hot summer’s day. Flowers of every variety, even the unusual ones that need extra care, bloom with abandon as if they hadn’t been meticulously groomed and cultivated to do just that.

Mostly, the rooftop is covered with thick, soft grass, broken only by smooth, concrete paths. Sophia mentioned that she wanted a prettier pebbled path, but Ishtar convinced her that bumps in the road are not best appreciated by a blind man.

A small pagoda sits in the northeast corner, overlooking a large rectangular pool toward the garden, as well as surveying the Bay view beyond. It is large enough to house gigantic sofas, piled with cushions and pillows. In truth, they look and feel like two king-sized beds pushed together.

Ishtar loves to take catnaps here.

Steam rises from retractable vents in the ground. I suppose this is especially useful during cold seasons. Our garden is always open for enjoyment, no matter the temperature outside.

All of this is how Ishtar describes the rooftop paradise to me. I can well imagine it. And I’ve walked every corner and path to know the layout in my mind down to the last detail.

“I am hungry, my love,” Ishtar purrs beside me, wrapping both her arms around one of mine. “Will you feed me?”

“Dinner is downstairs,” I reply, thinking of the meat and potatoes I prepared, that now need to be reheated. “Shall I bring—”

“I’m not hungry for food,” she growls, putting her hands on my naked chest.

“I am hungry for you.”

My body locks reflexively, my muscles tensing to stone.

This is the first in a very long time that she has demanded anything physical from me. She has been taught by my flinching reactions that such overtures are not welcome. Or rather, that I do not respond as a Pure male who loves his female should.

She feels my stress under the pads of her fingers, beneath her heated palm.

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