It wasn’t like him.
In the short time I’d known him and we’d been sleeping together in the same bed, I’d gotten used to his arms holding me.
One night, and I already missed him.
Even after what happened last night, I still wanted him to hold me.
The game shouldn’t have gone the way it did.
I couldn’t take the dare back, and once it left my mouth, and I wanted to see if he’d actually see it through. Of course, he may not, and my submission to him was fruitful. Only … I’d enjoyed it.
The way he’d taken me.
His gruff demand.
His hands on my body.
The touch of his cock.
His fingers.
All of it created a hunger I didn’t understand.
How could I feel anything for him? And yet, I had.
By the time he’d worked my ass and my pussy, I’d wanted it. I didn’t mind what he had to do to get it.
I was sore this morning. After he’d completed inside my ass, he hadn’t wasted any time. He’d used tissues to cover my anus, wiping the drops of his cum that spilled out. Then he’d picked me up and carried me upstairs even though I told him not to. He’d run me a bath and stayed with me as I washed.
The salts had helped to ease the tension that had built within my body.
I couldn’t believe I was still a virgin but had experienced anal sex.
After flinging off the blanket, I walked to the bathroom. Once I’d used the toilet, I flushed and went to the sink. I washed my hands, reached for my toothbrush, and went through the motions of my morning routine.
Breath fresh, face washed, hair in some kind of order, I walked back into the bedroom.
Without thinking, I made the bed before finding something to wear. I settled on a summer dress. This time, I wore a bra and panties.
I’d been a little more adventurous on the island and opted for no underwear, but today, it felt like an extra layer of protection.
When my stomach’s growls got too loud to ignore, I left the bedroom in search of the kitchen.
Stale bread lay on the counter beneath a towel, getting ready for the French toast I intended to make.
Gathering my ingredients from the fridge, I started to prepare, aware I couldn’t hear a sound.
Silence wasn’t usual.
Earl sometimes came and found me when I was making breakfast.
Still nothing.
I wanted to call out.
I was tempted to stop making breakfast, to go and find him. As I dipped the bread into the bowl, letting it soak up the mixture, I headed toward the kitchen door but stopped myself.
If Earl wanted me, he’d have come and found me.
Maybe he needed space.
Last night had been intense.
I knew because even as I tried not to think about it, I couldn’t seem to stop. Each action seemed to remind me of last night.
My body ached in places I didn’t know were capable. Drawing my focus back to breakfast, I pre-heated a skillet, added a tiny bit of butter, and then layered the two drenched slices of toast, turning the heat down. I wanted it to be lovely and crisp on the outside.
I stood at the stove and couldn’t help but sense someone was watching me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I looked left, then turned to look right. Nothing. I got the same sense wherever I went. When I didn’t allow myself to think and to just feel.
It was an odd sensation to have. One I knew that meant I must be going crazy. No one was around.
There was no way anyone was watching me. I checked to see if one side of the bread was lovely and golden. It was, so I did a nice little flip to toast the other side.
Cooking was my therapy.
I loved being in the kitchen and had often fantasized about having my own cooking show. Crazy, I knew, but it was what helped me get through when Emily had her really bad days.
With my toast done, I slid it onto a plate, grabbed a knife and fork, poured myself a cup of coffee, and dug in.
I ate alone. Still with the lingering sensation of someone watching.
The hairs on the back of my neck seemed to rise. I finished my breakfast and rather than linger indoors as the house made me a little nervous, I headed out to the garden. I passed the pool and kept on moving until I found a shaded area with lots of trees providing shelter. I stood beneath them. I hadn’t gone too far because I could still see the house.
Crossing my arms beneath my breasts, I stood and waited, wondering what the hell I was doing.
It was stupid to be afraid of a house.
Earl wasn’t too far.
Annoyed with myself, I went back, but I didn’t enter.
Lowering into one of the chaise lounges, I sat back and tried to relax.