Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Ah fuck,” he chokes out, driving into me one last time, so forcefully I lose my grip on the wall and almost collapse.
I’m still panting when he pulls out of me and I rise to my feet slowly, feeling dizzy. When I find the courage to turn around, the stranger I’ve just let fuck me senseless is fastening the button on his pants. He reaches behind me and lifts the toilet seat, tossing the used condom inside before flushing it away. I can’t look him in the eye as a rush of shame floods my veins. Instead, I focus on the discarded condom and lube sachets on the floor.
I see his fingers approach my face and he curls them around the back of my neck and pulls my heated face to his. I’m paralysed as I let him kiss my lips, and then he backs away.
“Thanks,” he says….
And then he’s gone.
Jeans still gathered around my ankles, I stumble back until I hit the wall.
What the fuck just happened?
I take a few minutes to compose my erratic thoughts and steady my breathing before pulling up my pants. Bending down, I pick up the torn sachets and throw them in the bin before leaving the bathroom in a daze. I’m instantly sober, no longer wobbly on my feet.
Tess is by the bar, chatting up some chick with long blonde hair. She leaves her behind, rushing over to me, the second I meet her gaze.
“What happened to you? You’ve been gone ages. I was just about to send Jimmy in to check on you.”
I don’t know who Jimmy is and, right now, I don’t particularly care. “I, um…” I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my face to make sure I haven’t dreamt it. “I just got fucked by David Gandy.”
**********
Tess crashed at my place last night. We left the club soon after my irresponsible encounter with the hot as hell stranger, while Ed and Stacey stayed behind, on course to drink themselves into oblivion.
This morning I’ve woken up with a hangover plucked straight from the pits of hell. My mouth is dry and tastes altogether disgusting, so I get up, stumbling from the head rush, and make brushing my teeth my first priority.
Tess must hear me get out of bed because she calls to me from the living room. “I made you a brew!” Her voice sounds like a freight train pummelling into my ears.
I can’t summon enough energy to reply, so I carry on taking a piss and then turn to the sink to wash my hands and face. “Ugh,” I mutter to my reflection in the mirror. I look like shit. My eyes are dark, sunken. My hair is a mess and my skin is dry. My highlights need touching up, too, and I make a mental note to ask Tess to do them at weekend. I refuse to look at my sorry arse any longer so I stare at my hands while I clean them, instead.
When I venture out into the small living room I find little comfort in the fact Tess doesn’t look much better. Her hair is shorter than mine and it’s currently sticking out in a thousand different directions. She’s sitting on the laminate floor with her legs crossed, wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my hoodies.
“You need a fucking sofa,” she whines, pointing to a mug of coffee on the floor in front of her.
I sit down next to her and take an eager sip from the chipped mug. “Do you know how little I’m earning right now? Think yourself lucky I can afford that coffee you’re drinking.”
“That’s what this is? Tastes like piss.”
I laugh at her dramatics. “I’ll splash out on a jar of the good stuff on payday. Just for you.”
Tess studies my face as she drinks the cheap coffee. I look away because I know she’s about to probe me about last night and embarrassment creeps onto my cheeks. What the hell was I thinking?
“Stop looking so ashamed,” she says. “You’re not the only guy to have a one-night stand. In fact, you’re probably one of the few who hasn’t. Well, until last night, but you know what I mean. It’s about time you got some. You haven’t had a good shag since Stinky Steve.”
Oh God. Stinky Steve. I’ve only had two relationships in my life, each lasting six weeks, and the last being with Steve. I’ve never been interested in casual, which makes serious relationships difficult when most other people in their twenties live to have fun and fuck around. He didn’t smell that bad, and he was a good guy…until I caught him in bed with the lad who lived next door to him.
Maybe that’s why I write romance. I’m a dreamer at heart. If I can’t have it in real life, I’ll live it on paper instead.
“I can’t help it. I feel like a slut.”
“You used protection, right?”
“He did. I shot it elsewhere.”
Tess’ face morphs into a revolted expression. “See, this is why I like girls. Less messy.”
We stay quiet for a while and I decide I need painkillers before my brain detonates inside my skull. I haul myself up and walk the four steps to the kitchen area, plucking a box of aspirin from the cabinet.
Tess follows and puts our empty mugs in the sink with a clatter that makes me wince from the pain in my head. “Put it behind you and move on. You’ll probably never see him again anyway.”
The words stab into my chest and it aches more than it should. I hadn’t finished looking for his story, too distracted by the unfathomable power he had over me. But I can’t stop thinking about those eyes. They held a level of pain I’d never witnessed before. Pain so intense I couldn’t even begin to unravel the tale behind it in the short space of time I had with him. Now, I never will, and I find myself filled with a bizarre sense of regret.