by T L Swan
I nod and regain my own ability to speak. This sex is ridiculous. It’s all consuming. How does a girl ever recover from sex like this?
“Go,” I breathe. “Fuck me.”
He groans in pleasure and picks me up without hesitation, slamming me back down and forcing my mouth open as his dark eyes are fix on mine. He lifts me up and down as I take everything he has to offer, the sound of our bodies slapping together filling the room.
“Ah, fuck, yeah,” he yells as he loses control.
He grabs my legs and lifts my knees higher to push himself deeper and I start to turn to jelly.
“Come,” he orders as he loses control.
“No,” I cry. “I don’t want this to end.”
He kisses me and closes his eyes. “We will never end, Em,” he whispers into my open mouth.
He lurches forward as he comes in a rush and I follow immediately, an intense orgasm utterly ruining me for any man.
We scramble for air then we kiss gently, tenderly and my eyes peel open as I drop my head to his shoulder.
We don’t speak. What is there to say when something is already perfect?
* * *
Alastar’s phone wakes me as an alert comes through, and he shuffles around in the dark to find it on the side table. I sit up, turn the lamp on, and glance at the clock. It’s 4am and he grabs his phone and reads his message. I am exhausted. We have only been asleep for an hour or so. We’ve been making love for hours, and I am so, so sore. He sits on the side of the bed in silence as I watch him quietly.
He stands with renewed purpose.
“I have to go.”
My face drops. “Where are you going?” I ask.
“Home.”
“Who texted you?”
“Nobody,” he replies as he stands and walks around to retrieve his clothes.
That’s a lie. Somebody freaking text him.
“Are you married?” I ask.
“No!” he snaps, clearly annoyed at my question. He disappears to the kitchen to retrieve his clothes that are strewn across the apartment.
“Engaged? Girlfriend?”
“No, I am just going home.”
I glare at him. Lying son of a bitch. You don’t get a text from someone in the middle of the night and then have to rush home.
He rips his shirt around his shoulders, annoyed with my accusations.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he barks.
“Like what?” I sneer.
“Like you’re disappointed with me.”
My eyes hold his for a moment as I try to reconcile what just happened and I shake my head in confusion. “Whatever,” I snap. Holy shit, I just had sex with a married man. He probably has kids. My stomach rolls at the thought. Oh my God, he didn’t wear a condom. Fuck.
He bends and chastely kisses me on the lips. “I’ll see you later.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I doubt that.”
He stands still for a moment assessing my words. “What?” He snaps angrily.
I shake my head and roll over and turn my back to him. This is unfucking believable. “Close the door on your way out,” I sneer.
Chapter 8
I wake to my body lurching forward. Oh no. I’m going to be sick. I run through the apartment to the bathroom and vomit violently.
Hell.
Perspiration dampens my skin. I slide down the wall and sit on the floor between the bath and the sink, my skin against the cold tiles. I’m hot and clammy and so, so sick.
Damn him.
What the hell kind of night was that? I put my face into my hands in disgust.
I stand, and with shaky hands I turn the tap on in the shower. I need to wash this dirty feeling from my body. My eyes stare down at the sink and I see his watch sitting on the counter. I pick it up and stare at it, allowing my mind to drift back to last night.
“Get in here, you gorgeous thing.” He’d smiled broadly as he’d undone his watch, sitting it on the bench before he had pulled me underneath the water with him. We kissed, long and tender after our fifth or sixth lovemaking session. There’d been no embarrassment of my body, no shame, only the feeling of overwhelming affection and fun.
My heart hurts.
How stupid and jaded could I have been?
I bend to wash myself and wince in pain. I’m so sore and I know he would be, too. We had rough sex for hours and hours until, in the end, he had nothing left to give. Our bodies gave up before our minds did, and even after the overwhelming sexual need was over, we had still kissed in each other’s arms for hours.
For a while I had felt so safe.
What if his wife or girlfriend wants sex today? Would he have it with her?
My eyes fill with tears. I have never felt so used. After the most amazing night of my life, he went to someone else’s bed. She called him while he was naked with me.
My eyes widen in horror and I dry retch again. Oh no, he didn’t wear a condom. I was so lost in the moment that I totally forgot a condom and he didn’t bring it up.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I got caught at my work jacking him off. I played a tequila drinking game and had awesome mind blowing sex with a married man.
Who have I turned into?
I slump down to the floor of the shower and cry shameful, dirty tears.
* * *
They say if you let your soul be still you will learn three new things about yourself every day. Frankly, the things I have learnt about myself in the past five days are just damn disturbing. It’s been five days since Mr. Alastar O’Shea left me in the early hours of the morning, and to be honest, I have never been so rattled in all of my life. I haven’t heard a word from him and I don’t expect to, either.
Probably the most disturbing piece of information came to me today when I realized that, if given the chance, I would do it again.
Tonight.
Any night. In fact, I would go as far as to say if he was driving down the street I would probably run out in front of his car so he could knock me over. Then, and only then, would the bastard have to acknowledge me and acknowledge this shitty feeling he has left in my gut. Longing and guilt all rolled into disgust. I even went and had blood tests on Monday in my lunch break. If he didn’t wear a condom with me he obviously doesn’t wear them with anyone else, either, and with sexual skills like that, I am imagining he gets a lot of practice in. My eyes close in pain as I remember the drinking game. How many women has he played that with? I bet it has 100% success rate because I fell for it, hook line and sinker.
I’m disgusted with myself.
No man has ever affected me like Alastar. His beautiful eyes and that body were built for sin. I keep seeing his face and the way that he looked at me when we were making love. I can feel the way he touched me and I’m aching for him to touch me again. I drop my head into my hands, aware that I’m turning into someone I don’t like. I look up from my desk toward reception and Stephanie narrows her beady little eyes at me.
Stephanie, also known as the blonde bust-a-move chick from reception. I picked Travis’ mind for the gossip, and coincidentally enough, she is the chick who has slept with Mark in the past. Now that I know this I can easily see by the way her eyes follow him around the office that she still has a thing for him. Unfortunately, for her, and me, his eyes are following my ass around the office.
This whole situation is one big fuck up. I know I have to tell mark that I just want to be friends, but to be honest, I feel too weak at the moment to even go there. There is absolutely no fight left in this soul of mine.
I pick up my phone and check it again. He still hasn’t called. In my desperate mind I want to message Alastar and tell him I’m thinking about him and wish him goodnight… but why drag myself through the mud any further? A little voice that comes from my stupid heart keeps reminding me maybe he may not be married—that maybe he really did care as much as he seemed to during our night together. The logical part of my brain keeps over ruling, however. Who would
have called him in the middle of the night other than a partner? Why else would he get up and leave me like that? Why hasn’t he called at all? He isn’t thinking about me or he would be here now.
* * *
“Are you getting the chocolate and caramel?” I ask Brielle as I stare through the frosted glass cabinet. It’s Wednesday night and I am in the ice cream parlor with Hank and Brielle. Hank has been beautiful to me this week while I have been down, and I just know that the girl who gets him is going to be one lucky bitch.
“Yes, what are you getting?”
“Mocha and macadamia crunch.”
“Mmm, yum. Let’s sit near the window.” She gestures to the seat near the front of the shop.
“So, tell me why we are here again?” I ask as I take my seat next to the two of them.
“Spying.”
I frown. “On who?”
She narrows her eyes as she looks out the window to the restaurant across the road. “Julian has a date tonight.” I smirk. “So?”
Hank narrows his eyes as he stares toward the restaurant.
She licks her ice cream angrily. “So… I want to see what this Bernadette with the toffee voice looks like.”
“Ugh, you so like him now.” I roll my eyes. “You’re actually admitting it?”
“No, this is…” She hesitates as she thinks of an answer. “I’m checking on him for the kids.”
Hank smirks into his ice cream as he licks it. I smile broadly and shake my head. “That’s a deplorable lie and you know it. Did he tell you he had a date?”
She shakes her head. “No, the girl… woman… whatever she is, rang and left a message with me asking me to tell him that she had changed the restaurant for tonight. Apparently, his phone was switched off and she couldn’t reach him.”
I nod as I peer through the window. “What did he say when you gave him the message?”
“He seemed… uncomfortable.”
I smile.
“What?” She frowns.
“I love it when you know something that they don’t think you know.”
She nods and clinks her ice cream with mine. “Same here.”
“Tell me about the concert?” Brielle asks Hank.
Hank smiles proudly and I join him. “Hank kissed a girl.”
“What?” Brielle whispers as she widens her eyes. “This is great. Did you get to second base?”
“No.” He screws up his face.
We sit in silence for a moment. “Have you heard from Alastar?” she asks me.
It’s my turn to violently lick my ice cream this time. “Nope.”
“Hmm. What did he actually say to you again?”
“He said that he wasn’t married and that he was annoyed at the insinuation.” She frowns. “He’s a bit up himself, isn’t he?”
“Totally,” I reply flatly. I begin to get the strobe light sensation in my eyes again and I grip the edge of the table to hold my balance. The white light flickers and then it stops suddenly. I frown. What the heck is this?
“I still think an old girlfriend poked his eye out with a pencil.” She smirks. I regain my equilibrium and look up, nobody seemed to notice what just happened, so maybe it’s just stress? “Wouldn’t surprise me, I might do the other one yet.”
Shit, I need to go to a doctor about this.
“And then what?” she asks.
I shrug, annoyed. “Nothing. I haven’t heard from him at all.” She frowns deep in thought. “And you like him?”
“I thought I did.”
She smirks. “Hot sex?”
“Stupid hot.”
“I want to know more about this tequila undressing game.” Hank smirks.
“Maybe you can play it with him some time,” I reply deadpan as I roll my eyes as I look to the restaurant across the road. “What time was their dinner booked?” I ask.
“Seven.”
I look at my watch. “It’s 9.30pm Maybe they have already gone.” Brielle narrows her eyes as she peers across the road.
“Hey, if you’re here with us, where are the kids?” I frown.
“Sleepovers.”
“Hmm, sneaky.” I smirk.
She smiles broadly and taps her temple. “What are you going to do about Mark then?”
“Crap, I don’t know. It’s so uncomfortable. He’s flirting up a storm every chance he gets.” I blow out a disgusted breath.
“You should tell him that you don’t want anything serious right now.”
“He asked me to go to dinner on Friday night. I thought I could tell him then.” Brielle smiles broadly. “The London effect might hit you again and you might end up getting on the tequila and on with him. That would be funny.”
Hank laughs and bumps his ice cream into Brielle’s.
“Hilarious,” I mutter. “Not happening.” I look across the road and see the door of the restaurant open. “Here he comes.”
We all scooch down in our spying seats so we can’t be seen.
Julian holds the door open and then a woman comes out in a sexy red dress.
Brielle’s mouth drops open in horror. “Are you kidding me?”
“She’s pretty. I’m impressed,” I reply with raised eyebrows.
“She’s young!” Brielle snaps. “Is he frigging kidding?”
“She would be mid-twenties,” I reply. “That’s not too young. What seems to be the problem?”
Brielle is outraged and steam is practically shooting from her ears. “What would a young blonde bombshell want with a middle aged man?”
I roll my eyes. “Funny you should ask that. I do wonder myself.”
Hank snickers. “Touché.”
“She’s just after his money.” I raise my eyebrows. She can’t be serious? “Remind me why we are spying on him?”
“Because he’s a fucking idiot,” she exclaims way too loud. Hank and I cringe and look around at the people surrounding us. “Shh,” I whisper.
We sit in silence as we watch them hold hands and disappear around the corner.
I bite my lips to stifle my smile. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what?” she replies, deadpan.
“What’s going on?”
She hesitates for a moment. “We… we had a moment.” “A moment?” I frown.
Hank’s eyes meet mine briefly. I knew she was hiding something.
“Last week.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “This is going to sound pervy.”
“I love pervy, you know that.” I smirk.
“Pervy works for me,” Hank whispers.
“I didn’t know he was home.”
“And?” I frown.
“He was going to be away for the night as he had a work thing on a couple of hours away.” I nod and sip my coke.
“Samuel had a dream earlier in the night and it really upset him.”
“Go on.”
“I had been reading a really good book and it was about 2am and I thought I would just go and check on Samuel before I went to sleep.”
“I’m listening,” replies Hank, deep in concentration. “I was in my little black silky nightgown.” I smile broadly. I know where this is going. Hank and my eyes meet.
“I checked on Samuel and was on my way back to bed when I heard something in Julian’s room.” My eyes widen.
Hank sits forward to listen.
“So, I went in to see if everything was okay, and the light was on in his bathroom. I peered around the door and Julian was in there.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was naked.” “Naked?” I breathe.
Hanks eyes widen.
She nods.
“What was he doing?” I sit forward in my seat. This is getting juicy.
“He was naked and… pulling himself.”
“What?” I shriek.
“Fucking hell,” whispers Hank.
“Shh,” she hisses as her eyes glance around at our surroundings. “He didn’t see me, and I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t move
, so I stood there and watched him.” My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets and I have to put my hands over my mouth to suppress the shock.
“What the hell happened?” I whisper.
“He looked up and saw me watching him.”
“Fuck off,” Hank breathes.
“It’s true.”
“Holy crap, what did he do?” I ask.
“He kept going.”
“He kept going? Holy shit. H-he kept going?” I stammer. I can’t believe this.
“Yes, and I stood still in a satin black nightgown and watched the damn show.”
I burst out laughing. “He came in front of you.”
She nods.
“Oh my fucking God.”
Hank’s eyes are the size of saucers.
“What happened the next morning?”
“He acted like it didn’t happen. But it’s a thing now and I know we are both thinking about it.”
I laugh out loud. “How have you not told me this?”
“Because the London effect is giving me wet dreams of my fucking boss and I’m turning into a stalking creeper.”
“Holy crap. It really is.” I laugh out loud, unable to believe the events she has just told me about. “And you really are a creeper.”
Hank lifts his ice cream in the air and we all clink them together. “You girls are officially my favorite kind of crazy.”
* * *
It’s Friday night and we are at a bar, with Hank and Vanessa is meeting us in an hour.
“I love this bar,” Brielle gushes as she looks around. We sit at a bench seat in the corner.
I smile into my vodka lime and soda. “I know, it’s the epitome of English, isn’t it?”
“It so is.”
I smile proudly that I know a cool place.
“Tell me about Mark?” she asks.
I sit back in my chair as I choose my words. “He’s annoying.”
“Annoying?”
“Yeah,” I reply as I sip my drink.
“And?”
“And he keeps telling me I’m beautiful.”
She smiles into her glass.
“Ugh.” I roll my eyes in disgust.
She raises a brow and smirks.