Carlo wasn't done though. He flipped their bodies, setting a slow pace of deep thrusts that aroused her all over again. By the time she climaxed the second time, he was pistoning into her body and shouting his own release.
Afterward, he got rid of the condom, but it was obvious he wasn't done.
"More?" she asked, a little awed.
He'd been a keen lover six years ago, but this was like pent up need finally finding an explosive outlet. She knew he hadn't been celibate. He'd been featured in too many gossip rags with sexy, beautiful women over the past years.
However, something was driving him, and she was happy to go along for the ride, finally falling into an exhausted sleep somewhere near dawn.
Annette woke feeling more comfortable in her skin than she had in years. Maybe ever.
Even five years ago, she had held parts of herself back from Carlo, afraid that if he knew the real her, he would lose interest. She'd still been dying her hair, dressing like her social set and socializing with therightpeople.
It was a lot more than her hair that had changed in the intervening time.
Annette's friends were more social activists now than socialites. She spent her spare time marching and organizing for her causes. She'd rather read than play tennis, and hike rather than play golf. She ate at food trucks and family-owned restaurants, instead of the latest hot spot with a Michelin Star.
She couldn't help wondering how thenewAnnette was going to fit in with Carlo's life. He came from wealth and privilege that far exceeded her own.
Refusing to let worry cloud her sense of wellbeing, she opened her eyes.
Annette was not surprised to be in the bed alone. Carlo had never needed as many hours of sleep as she did. The only times she'd ever woken with him beside her, he'd been up and working, only to return to bed to make love.
So, the empty bed and bedroom was no surprise. Annette got up and took a shower, a little surprised when the sound of hot running water hadn't brought her highly sexual lover into the bathroom. He must be on a business call.
She took her time drying her hair before donning one of the suite's complimentary robes to go in search of Carlo.
Annette cautiously looked through the cracked door as she opened, not wanting to be caught in the camera lens of a video call in a hotel bathrobe.
The living room was empty though. There was a cold breakfast of pastries and juice on the coffee table, obviously left there for her as the clear plastic dome was still over the plate of mouth-watering pastries. No note, but breakfast itself was a message.
Carlo was taking care of her.
No doubt still very much a workaholic, he must have gotten called away on business.
Annette sat down and uncovered the pastry plate, suddenly ravenous. She inhaled a perfectly flaky croissant filled with berries and cream before pouring herself a cup of coffee from the thermos style carafe. The dark liquid smelled divine and still steamed before she added milk and sugar.
Annette found her dress and the secret pocket that still had her cell phone in it. She used it to call his number.
He picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"
"It's Annette." She couldn't expect him to still have her number in his phone. They hadn't called each other in more than half a decade.
"Yes?"
"If you were expecting me to save you some pastry, you might be out of luck," she joked. "They're delicious."
"I have already eaten."
"Of course you have. What time did you get up anyway?"
"Does it matter? Did you need something, Annette?"
The coolness of his tone finally registered. This wasn't about talking in front of business associates. This was about how he was respondingto her.
"You were gone when I woke up," she pointed out, but at what point last night had she decided he would be there?
When had she shifted from seeking closure to looking for something more?