Poison

I don’t know how many times I fucked her that night. I don’t know how many times I squirmed my tongue against her clit until she screamed out my name like a banshee. I don’t know how many times I was balls deep into that hungry little cunt, so hard that her nails were talons on my back.

I don’t know how many times she kissed me with so much meaning that I swore she’d be bare naked in my arms forever, and I don’t know how many times I rewarded her by filling up her begging mouth nice and slick with my cum.

I don’t know how we managed a trip downstairs to the kitchen and put some semblance of a steak dinner on to cook. I don’t know how I managed to drink nearly two bottles of wine and she managed to take her medication at the proper time.

I definitely don’t know how I managed to find her snuggled tight in my arms under the bedcovers with a smile on her face as we soaked in the euphoria of a day to remember.

I was just so damn fucking pleased I did.

I eased off to sleep with no idea what time it was, only that the very first scrap of morning light was blooming outside. She was breathing deep and steady, lost in dreams with her head still tight into the crook of my shoulder as I closed my eyes and said goodbye to the ten year hello.

And then, finally and truly gratefully, I slept better than I had in a decade.Chapter SevenAnnaI woke up in instinctive panic, my hand plunging straight down between my thighs and patting around the bedsheets.

Please, please, please.

Clammy, but not dripping. No wetness. Not that kind of wetness anyway.

Thank fuck I hadn’t pissed myself in someone else’s bed as an embarrassing farewell.

I took a breath and settled back down, letting the calm wash over me – what little there was of it, at least.

There really wasn’t any calm left in a ten-mile radius once I looked over at the man who’d fucked me senseless, kicked free of covers with his shoulders rising and falling steady, still lost in slumber. His ass was the ass I knew so well, so perfectly shaped, he looked like he’d been pulled down from a podium in a Roman amphitheatre. He was worthy of tourist snapshots, sculpted from stone and hot enough to scorch a thousand souls.

Screw my life. One look at him and I was thrumming desperate for another go.

His back had the same glorious ladder of a spine, with dips at the base that made me want to dig my fingers in and lick a road all the way up. His butt cheeks were screaming out to be pulled apart, my eyes desperate to snatch and steal every sliver of his privacy.

Holy shit.

I was doomed.

My whole body was rattling, desperate for another taste of him eating me alive, but no. My brain was fighting it this morning, holding on to the frayed edges of reason. Finally. I had some. At least thirty seconds of frayed reason enough to swing my legs out of bed and shove myself to my feet.

I didn’t have a clue where most of my stuff had been cast aside – not even my phone – but luckily my medication tray was on the top of his chest of drawers with a half full glass of water standing next to it. I ate up my morning dose, then resolved to drag myself to some kind of order and get the hell out of there, party over, see you later.

See you never fucking again, more like it.

I’d clipped my bra back on and tugged my dress down over my head by the time I realised he was looking at me. His leg was lazily kicked out, arms deliciously muscular as they grabbed a load of pillows and propped his head up.

His stare was anything but lazy as he lapped me up. I could feel him. Drinking me in and swigging me deep.

He patted the covers next to him with a smirk, but no. Just no.

“Fuckathon over,” I said. “One off, remember. Nice to know you.”

I sounded a whole load more sure than I felt.

“You’re really fucking off before a morning repeat?”

My back was to him when I nodded. “Yep, I’m really fucking off.”

I didn’t hear him moving and I daren’t have looked around to check, just kept on grabbing my stuff up from the carpet and piling it back into one of my cases. Still no sign of my phone.

“I can give you a lift back to your place,” he said, but I shook my head.

“I need the train,” I replied. “Can’t have anyone seeing us together. If I’m a scrap of lucky, I’ll get away with this bullshit without having to spend the next decade explaining my crazy.”