Wicked Indulgence (Wicked Innocence 2)

“Take off your shirt,” I order as I undo my pants. I slip out of them and my boxers, and lift my t-shirt over my head. She obliges, unbuttoning her cream colored shirt and tossing it beside her on the bed.

I lean forward and curve my hand behind her neck, bring her up into a sitting position. I yank open the back of her skirt and shimmy it down her bare thighs. My cock twitches. She’s not even wearing underwear. My lips lock on hers roughly before I push her back on the bed, this time with me on top of her.

I lock both her hands in mine and lift them above her head, using my free hand to explore her body. She gasps as I massage her breasts as my mouth closes in on her neck.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” I murmur, as I roll on a condom. She does as I ask, and without warning, I’m inside her. She cries out, her eyes glistening with tears. For a brief second I’m worried I’m hurting her, but then I remember why I’m so pissed.

She lied to me. She used me. This is about me getting what I want without caring about her needs. I force myself to focus and finish the job I’ve started.

I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her as I push myself inside and out of her. My release comes thick and fast. I groan as I explode, my body aching from the rush. As soon as I’m done, I pull out and begin to dress.

“What’s wrong?” Lyndall asks. She sits forward, grabbing the sheet to wrap around her body, her usual bright eyes full of confusion. “Where are you going?”

I do up the last of the buttons on my shirt and stalk to the door, not bothering to answer her. Hell, I don’t even look at her as I slam the door closed.

Hopefully she’ll take the hint and be gone when I get back.

****

As I take what is now my usual seat down at the bar, my phone rings. I poise my finger over the ignore button, expecting it to be Lyndall. It’s Stace.

“What the fuck are you doing, Sax? You’re all over the magazines, they’re saying you’re a sex addict. They have photo’s to prove it!”

“I’m okay, Stace. I promise. It’s not as bad as it looks.” I rub my head, wishing there was a way out of all this. “I’ll be home soon and you can see for yourself.”

“I gotta stop reading the gossip mags,” she says, attempting a joke.

I chuckle. “I’ve been telling you that for years. I gotta go, but I love you, okay?”

“Okay,” she sighs. “Love you too.”

Nodding at the barman, I down my glass as he pours me my next. I’ve lost count of how much I’ve drunk—enough to dull some of the pain. My phone vibrates again. Another text from Lyndall. I press delete without reading it, just like I did with the thirty messages before it.

Take a fucking hint.

I keep drinking until the barman cuts me off. Angry at being treated like a child, I stagger to my feet and make my way to the door, somehow managing to stay upright.

There has to be another bar in this shithole that will serve me.

Groaning, I roll over. For a second I wonder if I’m dead, because every fucking muscle hurts. I ache in places I never knew I could ache. The soft rippling of water hits my ears. I tentatively move my fingers back and forth through what feels and sounds like water. Cracking my eyes open, I stare at the sun shining down from above me.

Not again.

I struggle to sit up, trying to ignore the sound of the Japanese tourists standing to my right, snapping pictures of me. I glance down and see why. I’m a grown ass dude who was passed out half naked in a fucking water fountain.

God knows how I didn’t drown myself.

Sighing, I shiver as I exit the water wearing only my jeans. At least I’m not naked. Though I wonder how long before those shots are on the front page of the newspapers.

Guilt rushes through me. I promised Stace I was okay. If she sees these photos, she’ll be over here looking for me. Not that I blame her. If it were the other way around, I’d have dragged her ass back home weeks ago.

I can’t deny it any longer: I’m a fucking mess.

****

As I wait to board my plane, I take a look at the magazines, something I never usually do. The most recent edition released today. There on the cover is a full color photo of Lyndall and I. Not that you can recognize her. Me, other the other hand, there’s no denying it.

Angry, I toss the magazine back on the stand and storm out of the small shop. All this has done is confirm what I already knew. I need to get away for a few days. I need a break.