I barely contain the urge to fan myself, and the even stronger urge to pull up my wedding dress and demand he get on his knees and lick my sensitive clit until I detonate on his tongue.
It’s tempting, but the girls will send out a search party if I don’t get back out there soon.
He leans forward, plants a chaste kiss on my forehead, and winks at me as he opens the door. “Maybe next time.”
Even after the door clicks shut, I swear I can still feel his breath on my neck. The ghost of him hums beneath my skin, like he’s rewired something inside me. I stand staring at the door for a long moment after he leaves. I’m left with nothing but the flicker of his touch and the echo of my own heartbeat. Jesus. Maybe I just met my next mistake.
Did I really just have sex with a stranger in the bathroom of the Anchor?
Who even am I?
I have no idea, but I think it’s time to find out.
CHAPTER 7
Rhiannon
Ismooth out my dress and head back out into the bar where my orgasm knight in blue jeans, and an olive green henley, is sitting at the bar sipping on a fresh pint of Guinness with the same resting scowl face he had before I dragged him into the bathroom.
He’s rubbing idly at his thigh with one hand, while scrolling his phone with the other. Did he hurt himself? I was so focused on getting myself over the line that I didn’t think about the fact we were doing a little cardio in a confined space. Did he bang into something other than me?
I’m definitely going to have bruises from the sink and the door handle…
To my surprise, no one looks at me with confusion on their face, or asks where the fuck I’ve been for the last, however long I’ve been gone. They’re all chatting away rightly. On the table in front of where I was sitting is the to-do list I made with my sisters, and number one,fuck a stranger, has been struck through with bright red lipstick.
Oh no.
They know.
My body heats from the outside in. As soon as I slink into the seat, Clíodhna nudges me with her knee. “Feel better?”
Aoife runs her finger around the rim of her glass. “I bet she bloody does. Getting railed by that beast of a hottie in the bathroom would make anyone feel better.” Her eyes sparkle as she pins me with a firm stare and wiggling eyebrows. “Unless he was shit. Was he shit?”
It’s Matthew who answers for me, pointing at my sizzling hot cheeks. “He wasn’t shit. Look at her face; she’s always had an awful poker face.” He grins before reaching over and patting my hand. “Good for you, Rhi. We will, of course, expect all the sordid, dirty details about the size and skill of his dick when you catch your breath.” Now he’s waggling his brows at me too.
Fuck’s sake, I’m surrounded by teenagers. I don’t even know the man’s name, but he’s sitting over there enjoying a blissfully quiet pint while I’m here getting interrogated about his girthy dick. I mean, I’m not, yet. But it’s in the post. I bet I have less than sixty seconds before someone asks what his dick was like.
I fight a giggle. Not only did I not get his name, I also didn’t evenseehis dick. If I chose to describe what it was like, it would all be from memory of how it felt both through his trousers and inside my body.
My thighs clench at the memory. Part of me wishes I’d dragged his arse out of the pub and into the car. Since I share a house with Arsehole George and he hasn’t had long enough to clear out his crap, there’s a real chance my ex would have walked in with some rando balls deep in me in our pre-marital bed. Woulda served the cunt right.
A weary sigh threatens to siphon off some of the post-sex euphoria simmering in my veins. As much as getting revenge has been very appealing for the last twelve weeks, I can’t help but wonder if it’s worth it? What point would it serve? Thelook on his face at the top of that room, facing everyone who wanted to cut his balls off and throw them in the sea… That was reward enough, no?
Part of me wanted to get my own back because, as the eldest sister, I’ve spent my whole life “being the bigger person,” and for once, it felt like it might be fun tonotbe that person. As it turns out, that whole showing-him-up-at-the-wedding thing was exhausting, and I’m not sure George is worth the energy anymore.
I don’t say anything out loud, however, because I already know the answer from everyone at the table.Fuck that guy.
Aoife points at my hand that Matthew’s still holding. “Matt, let’s hope she washed those hands.”
Matthew jerks back from me and releases my hand before dramatically wiping his palm on this thigh. “I love you, Rhiannon Morrigan, but I don’t need your bodily fluids on me. Or his for that matter.” He tips his head in the direction of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Even More Handsome sat frowning into his pint.
I roll my eyes, heaving out an equally dramatic sigh. “Right, cause the worst thing you’ve ever had on your hands is my bodily fluids. I think not, Councilor Murphy.”
Clíodhna snorts. “She’s not wrong, Matty. You probably had your hands in far worse last weekend.”
He flares his nostrils like we’re onto something but holds up his hand. “This isn’t about me, Morrigan sisters. It’s about Rhiannon and her bathroom booty call.”
“You look far more relaxed than you did before you went to the loo,” Aoife notes before taking a drink. “Your shoulders were up at your ears, and now they’re not. You have a neck again.”
