Fuck me, but I needed to fuck her again.
“You want me, sweetheart?” I groaned, circling my thumb over her clit as she cried out.
“Yes,” she gasped.
I grabbed my dick and pushed into her, filling her up. I fucked her like that, with her head in the pillow, deep, hard, until we were both panting.
Then I emptied myself into her for the second time tonight.
The first thing I could process when my head stopped spinning was how exhausted I was.
Work. The plane. The party tonight. Drinking. Fucking.
The hours ticking by, bringing us closer to my birthday… to the Dane Davenport my family expected me to be… and the end of this thing. Whatever it was.
A marriage. A fake relationship.
A lie.
And something very, very true.
I pulled out. I couldn’t even catch my breath. A weird head rush hit me and I lay down, stretching out next to Devi. She rolled onto her back with a deep sigh.
“That was fucking crazy,” she whispered.
I grinned in the dark. I wasn’t even sure if she could see me.
I looked at her. There was some city light glowing softly through the window curtains. I could see her profile. She wasn’t looking at me.
As she lay there next to me, kind of gazing at the ceiling and catching her breath, I didn’t even know what to say to her.
“When do you go back to Toronto?” she asked me.
“I don’t know.”
She looked at me but didn’t say anything. She didn’t seem to like that answer.
I knew she was impatient for me to go back to Toronto after we got married. It was obvious. She practically told me so, every time she pressed me about when I was going back.
And now that I’d gone back, for almost a week… maybe that wasn’t enough for her?
Maybe she’d gotten comfortable here, without me.
Maybe she was hoping I’d be going back, a lot more often. That we’d get to spend the majority of our short marriage in separate cities.
Other than the sexual chemistry between us, which was obviously off the charts… maybe she really wanted nothing to do with me.
She got up and went into the bathroom and shut the door.
And I just lay there, like I did in Toronto for the last several nights, thinking maybe I’d made a massive fucking mistake.
Not marrying Devi, but telling her I’d divorce her.
Because what if, before that happened, I started to get attached to her?
I really should’ve thought of that possibility before I asked her to marry me.
It wasn’t like it never occurred to me that it could happen. That I might actually have feelings for her. Old feelings that crept up out of the past. New feelings that caught fire when we fought, that threatened to consume me when we fucked.
