I value our eccentric belongings. Our shared space. I value the way he gets sucked into sci-fi storylines and creases his brows while he’s reading.
I even value our shared workouts in the gym space, no matter if I’m wincing as I do a Pilates stretch while my healing pussy squeals in protest.
Belgravia life is truly fantastic.
Tiff comes over to visit more frequently from her apartment downstairs, cackling along with us carefree, like the exile never happened. As the weeks go on, I venture outside again, bolder and bolder. My heels get higher, and my makeup gets more dramatic, my strides more confident as I realise I’m not going to get burnt at the stake whenever someone makes eye contact. I don’t haveConnor’s hooker extattooed on my forehead.
Life is greatdoesn’t cut it for how I’m feeling. For real. Life is absolutely, unbelievably AMAZING.
There is only one thing missing.
I keep pushing it from my mind whenever the pang hits my stomach, because there’s no point in dwelling in the pain when you’re powerless. I know that now.
Things heal, things pass, and life changes. Some of those changes can be mega curveballs, too.
I just hope there’s a curveball coming our way when it comes to Heath Mason.
I’d like to say I don’t want to catch glimpses ofNighttime Whispersnews, and shots of Heath in character as the Count, but that’s bullshit. My feed is littered with snippets, and videos of him backstage, and I crave every single sight of him. But what is appearing on my feed even more often is the car crash of Connor’s career over in the US.One in a thousand, was the songhe wrote about ‘me’, and so much for his fucking mega hit now. It’s old news.
I really am one in a thousand now.
One in a thousand of the people getting gossiped about for having anything to do with him. I laugh to myself sometimes as I remember his lying ass lyrics.
She was my one in a fucking thousand… the one in my fucking forever…
But I was just one of her thousand fucks, and nothing more.
Whatever, Connor. What the fuck ever.
The feuds around him get more and more heated and the fans get more and more fired up as they argue about him, trolls burning up their keyboards. The firepits of Hell are based across the Atlantic now, far away from me here in London. Damn, I’m grateful for the distance.
My shit of an ex has managed to piss off three other celebrity friends of his on the Hollywood circuit. Bitched at Katie Del Francis some more during a late-night rant video, and a member of the press is suing him for damages after he shoved them away from his tour bus and gave them the middle finger. Camera wrecked apparently. Go, Connor. And go life, for letting me and Josh carry on just fine.
We are chilling in bed with just two more days ofrecovery timeleft when he pulls me close to him with a glint of pure lust in his eyes.
“Time to make the most of the exclusivity, baby. I’ll be sharing your delicious cunt with clients again in forty-eight hours.”
“Just like I’ll be sharing your delicious cock.”
I squeeze his rock-hard dick, then run my thumb up and down the barbells. He’s already dripping. My pussy has long recovered, my legs spreading in welcome as he climbs on top. He spears me slowly, teasing so bad it makes me moan.
“Who have you got first?” he asks.
“Dunno.” I shrug. “Haven’t bothered looking yet.”
“Sure. Yeah.” He nudges his dick deep. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been checking it out. Your needy cunt is desperate for some new flavours. You must know your client bookings by heart.”
I nudge right back at him and look my boyfriend in the eyes, raising my arms above my head. He pins my wrists with his hands, just how I like it.
“So must you. You’re the calendar king.” I arch my back as best I can under his weight. “And I love it. All of it. You know it drives me crazy to hear about your filthy fun.”
“We are twin souls, aren’t we? Filthy twin flames. I can’t wait until you come home dripping with cum again. Used up like a dirty bitch who’s been fucking her heart out.”
I tense around his dick, wrapping my legs around his waist so he can fuck me deep. I want to feel his balls slapping. I want to hear him groan.
“Twin souls,” I say. “I want to see your raw ass, Josh. I want to lap up the leftovers of your filthy games. I want to suck your cock clean when it’s nice and dirty. I want to taste other girls’ cunts on your filthy mouth.”
“Tell me who’s first in the diary,” he says, slamming my cunt deep. “Did you miss them? Are you gagging for some playtime with a regular?” He pauses, eyes hooded. “Or is it someone new? Maybe a whole gang of them? So much cum for me to clean up.”
