‘Nobody else,’ he panted. ‘For you. Or me.’
‘No,’ I agreed. ‘Nobody else.’
‘I want a picture,’ he said.
His mobile phone was within reach and he snapped a shot of me lying there in my position of total subjection before he removed his cock and then the vibrator from my body.
‘One hundred and three missed calls,’ he said ruefully, still looking at his telephone screen. ‘Seventy-eight texts. Ah, fuck ’em.’
He lay down beside me and held me close. We were so damp and hot we seemed to melt into each other, infusing each other with our essences. I couldn’t have loved a man more. It wasn’t possible. My necklace was stuck to my skin, and it felt right.
‘I wish I’d made that tea now,’ he said, yawning, after we’d lain listening to each other’s heartbeats for a good ten minutes. ‘I’m parched. Are you all right, love?’
I nodded, still too bleary to make sense.
‘Oh, love,’ he laughed, kissing me all over my face. ‘Look at the state of you. I’ve broken you, haven’t I?’
‘I’ll survive,’ I slurred. ‘I think.’
‘Better get used to it,’ he said. ‘You are going to move in with me, aren’t you?’
I made an effort to unglue my eyelids.
‘Oh. I suppose. Yeah.’
‘Good.’ He kissed me again. ‘Better forget about being able to walk straight for the foreseeable future then. I’ll get that tea.’