Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
She was a fragile magpie behind a thorny barricade. The same feisty little firecracker behind the same pretty lace smile as she’d always been.
She was still the Anna Blackwell I’d fallen in love with and broken apart as a result of my idiocy.
I’d be breaking her to pieces again today, but this would be an entirely different performance.
“Things have changed a lot for me this past decade,” I told her. “I guess that’s universal when you’ve suddenly got a little person that means more to you than you do.”
It was the wrong conversation starter. She met my eyes in a flash, and there was a coldness to them I wasn’t nearly so used to.
“Let’s clear this up now,” she said, and leaned in closer. “This is a one off. Sex. An afternoon of crazy filthy fucking and nothing else.”
“Agreed,” I replied. “Your call. However you want it.”
Her words were hard. “We need to keep this quiet, because everyone will go mad about it. I don’t want anyone to know I was here, or anyone to know I took your dick all afternoon. I could do without the drama or the backlash, and there would be plenty of it.”
I laughed a little. “Also agreed. I too could do without the drama or backlash. I get enough of it already.”
“So, we eat up then go,” she said. “No silly chat, or pretending we give a shit about each other.”
Those words cut me more than they had any right to.
“Sure thing. I just thought we could at least do with a hello lunch. It’s been ten years.”
“Not nearly long enough if I had any sense,” she said, and there was a snap in it. She caught herself and shook her head, waving her hand in some kind of half-assed apology.
Yet again, I didn’t blame her for any of it. I was still in utter shock she was sitting opposite.
She looked around the room. “Is this your local? Seems nice.”
I shrugged and smiled and played at ease.
“Kind of. I don’t have all that much that’s my local. You’ll see what I mean when we get there.”
The food turned up, and she picked at it with her fork. I knew her belly would be fluttering, craving the contact like mine was. I knew she’d be nervous, because I was bristling with a strange nervous anticipation myself, even under the pulse of the pure primal urge to fuck her senseless.
I’d looked up epilepsy, but the condition seemed to cover a whole spectrum of different symptoms and effects. I was certain Anna would be telling me what she needed to, and the rest of it was her business and nothing to do with me.
Still, I was curious.
Curious and concerned. Yet still, I had no right to be.
I ate my steak and swigged back my red wine, then patted my mouth down with a napkin as she did the same, and we were done. Dessert was out of the question for both of us, and it didn’t need saying. But something else did. Something that wouldn’t keep quiet in me if I tried.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. “Seriously, Anna. I’m sorry. For everything that happened. Sorry doesn’t cut it, I know, and I wanted to say it sooner, but –”
She held a hand up, her lips pitted hard. “Don’t,” she said. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything. I don’t want to talk, or chat, or laugh, or pretend this is anything more than wanting a crazy afternoon where I actually get off for once.”
I couldn’t argue with that. I daren’t.
“You’ll be getting off a hell of a lot more than once, don’t worry about that,” I told her, and went to pay the bill.
She was standing with her coat over her arm when I headed back to join her. She gave me a polite thanks, and stepped on ahead of me, and it was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing her and tugging that dress down hard from those pretty pale tits of hers.
My dick strained in my pants, my mouth watering at the thought of her juicy cunt, but it kept on simmering under the surface. We were silent all over again as I drove us out to my place. The roads turned to lanes, and twisted and climbed, and the tracks were muddy and potholed. She took an audible breath as I pulled off to the right and parked up outside the house. She leaned forward and stared up at the sprawl of it, eyes wide.
“Wow, this is really something.”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed and bailed out.
The place was a converted barn, with ivy growing all over the front of it. The gardens were lawned, but wild, with vegetable plots all up the one side, and the door was heavy wood, and made a loud creak as I pushed it open. I took her cases from the car and dropped them inside while she was still standing on the doorstep.