“None. I can sleep after.”
We didn’t sleep, not much. Last time we’d been together, we were time limited by the storm. Tonight, we both knew that the morning would bring the ending. I had a quick meeting at ten, and then I was back to Norfolk. What Mork didn’t know was that I was back at a stately home, filming the series that the media were already speculating about. I’d even heard a rumour that the leading man and I were involved in a torridly passionate affair, which could’ve been delicious, except I wasn’t his preferred gender – something the hacks were completely unaware of.
Mork.
I so wanted to know his real name.
I didn’t ask, of course. That was part of the fun, not knowing exactly who each other was, because then we didn’t have to talk about our real life presents, our current worries and fears weren’t alive here.
There was a poem I studied at sixth form, by John Donne, where the room two lovers shared became the whole world, the rising sun the enemy as it signified an end to their evening of lusty pleasures – I always had the feeling that John Donne was a lusty kind of man. I suspected we’d have gotten along if I’d been around in the sixteenth century.
“This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.”
That was almost my first thought when I woke from one of the brief hours of sleep I’d grabbed to the sun shining through the window, introducing a warm Manchester day. Mork was still asleep, the sheet barely covering anything, which gave me opportunity to stare.
He was cut, as in professional sports person cut, because who else had time to train to look like that? His abs were defined, dark hair dusting over them, thickening up on the trail down to his happy place. His nipples were dark, his skin contrasting against my English Rose complexion which I was becoming known for – unfortunately. His arms were well defined, his shoulders powerful, but it was his legs that had driven me half wild. His thighs were that of a Greek god. The muscles on them were sculpted in a way I thought only existed on superheroes in comics, but now I’d seen them with my own eyes, and felt them with my own hands. I was pretty sure that the power contained in them was responsible for at least one orgasm.
“Enjoying the view?”
I tried to look guilty for perving at him, but it wasn’t going to happen. “Very much.”
He sat up, sweeping me onto my back, my giggles sounding most unlike me. I stopped laughing when I saw his expression. It was serious. Hungry. Like he was the big bad wolf, and I was some very tasty morsel he was about to sate himself with.
I was good with that.
My fingers grazed his shoulders, his big body braced over mine. He was hard, because well, that had been his current state for most of the night, so why wouldn’t he be now?
“The view is spectacular.”
“So’s mine.” He looked down at my breasts, my nipples hardening in anticipation of his attention. “I met a girl once with a body like yours. Penny. I think I mentioned her before.”
“You did. She sounded delicious.”
“She was. I hoped I’d see her again, although it didn’t look like it would be possible.” He lifted a hand, his sheer strength meaning resting most of his upper bodyweight on one arm over me wasn’t an issue. He touched the side of my boob, then cupped it, his hand almost big enough to hold it all. “I don’t want this to be the last time with you.”
The thought of that being the case did not appeal to me in the slightest.
“Does it have to be?”
“Do you want it to be?”
“No.” I didn’t believe in playing games. Life was too short and I didn’t have time. “I’d like a repeat.”
His hand moved down to between my thighs, cupping my centre. I’d feel this later, all the sex and the fucking and the making love, because at some point in the night it had turned tender. I’d feel it in other places too. My bed tonight was going to feel empty.
Fingers that had already cast a spell did it again, working me to a quick, tidy orgasm. He could read my body like a memorised book by now, reading my reactions, the nudge of my hips that told him to keep going, the tension in my legs when I was almost hitting that glorious peak.
I came on his hand, spellbound when after he lifted his fingers and sucked at two of them, his eyes fixed on mine, dancing with lust and devilment.
“You taste ready for me to fuck you now.”
It was all I could do to nod once and spread my legs, my gaze drifting to his bare cock.
“Condom.”
I didn’t want to use one. The four other times we’d used one religiously, him not needing a prompt. “Leave it.”
His jaw clenched. “You sure?”
