I cry out as he eases himself inside my ass, not from pain, but because I want it so damn fucking much. His thickness is everything. The way he uses it drives me insane.
So, yes. I think I might love anal even more than Gerwyn does.
He comes just as hard as I do. Hard enough that we have to catch our breath, laughing together with a whoa, fuck as we gather our senses back to some kind of order.
Good job we’re both hooked on caffeine, because by the way he looks at me as he makes us a coffee, I know there are a whole load of climaxes still to come.
Ant
I hate Devon. I’ve never been one for the coast.
The seaside has never been a calling for me, but today I’ve made the effort.
It’s a fundraising event that was shared amongst my colleagues in Birmingham. I’d never have gone near it in a million years if I hadn’t seen her picture – Madeline McKenzie.
I’m sitting at a table by the main stage, watching the senior advocate make the first presentation.
It’s a charity for cats, and I don’t even like cats, but for her I’ll make an exception. I’ve even got myself a Siamese and a sweet little tabby waiting back at home. Annoying little shits.
I ignore the way she sounds like the damn crusader in her self-righteousness. I’ve heard enough boring charity chatter already to last a lifetime.
I’m more focused on the wave in her jet-black hair, and the way her brows are shaped so perfectly. Her bright smile in scarlet red lipstick, and the sparkle in her eyes.
She’s wearing a burgundy dress, with stunning high heels, and there’s a hint of nerves under her bravado as she addresses the room.
At least there’s not a godawful piece of shit tattoo on her wrist this time. Small mercy. Cass should be grateful that I took her pathetic piece of ink off her.
I laugh inside as I picture my ex-fiancée walking up the aisle to Gerwyn yesterday with the sapphire still etched onto her skin. Ger is a stupid cunt to let her keep my memory there.
I saw it on the social media pictures this morning, both of them grinning like idiots, with my little girl in their arms.
Oh, yes. She’s definitely mine. She looks just like her real father, not the stupid prick who’s stepped into the role.
I have much more pressing needs to consider than that right now, though.
I give my applause along with the rest of the room when Madeline McKenzie finishes up her dull speech, and then I make my donation to her cause. Publicly. So the whole damn room knows about it. It’ll be the biggest donation they will have this whole damn century, and it works.
Of course it does, since money is all that matters.
Madeline McKenzie can’t keep her eyes off me.
I’m at the bar, sipping on mineral water when the event dies down and she takes a seat on the barstool next to me. She’s been drinking prosecco. I can see the hint of drunkenness about her as she holds out a hand to introduce herself. Like she needs an introduction.
“Madeline,” she says. “Thank you so much for your donation. Really, it’s incredible. We’re so grateful!”
“Ant,” I reply, and make sure my handshake is a smooth one. “You’ve done a great job. I’ve been to many fundraisers and this one was truly exceptional.”
“Thanks,” she says. “That means a lot. It really does.”
I call the barmaid over with a smirk.
“A bottle of De Chante for the excellent advocate, please.”
Madeline’s eyes widen.
“A bottle? Wow, woah, thank you, but you’ll have to help me drink it!” She looks at my glass of water. “I guess you’re driving, though?”
“Nah, I’m not driving, I’ve got a room booked upstairs. I don’t drink alcohol actually, but I’m sure you’ll manage the De Chante, or take it to bed with you. You deserve it.”
The barmaid asks if she’d like the bottle opened, and Madeline wavers, looking at me.
I keep my gaze steady, my smirk perfect.
“Oh, go on, then,” she says, flicking her hair just right. “Yeah, open it, please.”
THE END