He grinned and grabbed a condom from the side and passed it to me. Then lay on the bed and waited for me with an eager expression.
I rubbed up against him, and apparently, I was making more noise than I realised. “I’ll put some music on,” he said, easing out from under me to grab his phone and turn on a playlist.
“Sorry, people tell me I’m loud. I always forget,” I said. He returned to his original spot.
“Just try not to wake half the county—”
“What about you, are you loud? Especially when …”
“When what?”
“When I do this—”
He gave a deep guttural yell and arched his back so hard I thought he was gonna bend in half. I grinned and pushed in deeper.
“Good?” I asked.
“So, so good,” he mumbled in a language I think was English.
I gripped the headboard above me and, for several minutes, went to town. I took the grin on his face as proof that I was doing a half-decent job.
When I let my mind drift, all those emotions of the past week came back to me. So instead, I drove my hips down to get closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around my chest. I used the headboard to leverage myself up for some traction. We both dripped with sweat in the hot little room; the bedspread underneath Errol was going to be soaked, but right then, it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was keeping my pelvis bucking in the perfect rhythm so that the expression of absolute pleasure stayed on Errol’s face.
Too soon, that rhythm faltered, and I let out a gasp. Errol had seconds to finish before I did. He managed to achieve his goal as I let out a long shuddering sigh and rammed it home one last time.
I fell forward and rested my head on my arm atop the headboard above him. Panting for dear life.
He ran his fingers down my damp body and laughed.
“Good?” he asked.
“Bloody excellent.”
“Pretty sure all of Dorset heard.”
“Lucky them,” I said sincerely. “That was a ten-out-of-ten effort.”
“You weren’t bad either,” he said as I dislodged myself. He stood up and went to the fridge in the minute kitchenette.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Only if it’s alcoholic.”
He passed me a beer. “Luckily, this campaign drove me to the booze weeks ago.” He took a swig. “Do you wanna grab a shower?”
“If I’m allowed.” I jumped off the bed and swigged my beer.
“Take it in with you, I’m not gonna judge.”
I shrugged and did that. Drinking beer in the shower always makes one feel rebellious, but tonight it felt extra so. Ten minutes later and a lot of sweat lighter, I exited the bathroom, fully nude. Owning the point of a one-night stand was making me feel liberated.
Errol looked up from where he lay on the bed, reading Twitter, and grinned. He was in the nude, too. But more importantly, there was a breeze. “Where did you get a fan from?” I asked while air-drying a few certain body parts in front of it.
“Last week, when I realised this weather wasn’t going anywhere. It’s the only way to sleep in this furnace.” He departed into the bathroom, giving my bum a squeeze on the way.
I finished my beer and resisted the urge to check my phone.
