her ass and cupping it. She seemed to startle.
"Chef Jones!" she said in mock surprise. "I have a husband..."
It didn't sound like she was arguing, though. It sounded like she was toying with him.
The sound of her voice shook me back into the room and my eyes opened wide.
"Andrew Smith! You
are
being a naughty boy, aren't you?"
She was standing there, her brow glistening with sweat. She had on her tights, the ones she used to run and was holding a fresh, pink drink in each hand. She looked spectacular.
"Where were you?" I asked, pretending to be bleary-eyed and still half-asleep.
She gave me a sly smile. She looked down at herself, then back at me with raised eyebrows. "I was at the shops. Trying on dresses. Can't you tell?"
Cheeky. Something had definitely changed in her. Samantha wasn't normally one for sarcasm. I took the drink she was offering and took a sip. "How was your run?"
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the bed beside me.
Wonderful. I stole another glance at her perfect body. I wondered how many men had turned as she ran past? I looked up when she turned back towards me. There was something...more relaxed about her smile.
"Come here," I growled, setting down my drink on the bed table and pulling her towards me.
"Andrew! I haven't showered!" she replied. The objection seemed half-hearted. I decided to roll the dice.
"We'll have them change the sheets," I said. Setting her drink down for her, I pushed her down onto the bed and pressed onto her body with mine. She didn't resist.
I leaned close and kissed her on the lips. Her usual taste, with a hint of salty sweat. I yearned to fuck her that way. Good and dirty. When I pulled my lips from hers, she was looking at me, as if searching for something in my eyes.
"Andrew," she purred, narrowing her eyes. "Did you mean what you said last night?"
A shock tore through me. She remembered. I stared at her, wondering what she thought of it all.
"What did I say, my beauty?" I asked. I needed to be sure what she was talking about. Maybe she'd forgotten.
"What you said last night about me? With another man?"
It was so incredibly unlike her, to ask such a thing so directly. It was thrilling. I pressed my lips against her neck. I smelled the ocean air on her skin. She didn't push me away. I thought she'd push me away. I thought she'd want to talk about it. Instead, she tilted her head, letting me trail kisses down her neck and towards her chest.
My cock hardened. Good God, was she seriously contemplating this? I opened my eyes and lifted my head from her neck. She was still staring at me that same, searching stare. The sincerity of her question knocked me off my game.
"Uh...I...Samantha..." I stammered, unsure of what to say. She saved me by bursting into giggles. Giggles. At the thought of fucking another man.
"I thought you might not have been," she said finally. "I think we were both quite drunk!"
Adrenaline surged through me at the thought that she'd even been thinking about it. I couldn't just let the moment go. "No wait, let me explain." I pushed myself up on an elbow.
She was curious, her eyes still searching for the truth behind mine.
"Samantha, ever since we've met I've thought about it. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
"Thinking about what?" she asked. Even her questions seemed more confident here. Like the salty sea air gave her courage.
I breathed deeply, braced myself for the confession. "About James."
Her brow furrowed. "James?"
"James, Samantha.
Your
James."
Recognition spread across her face. "My James?" she whispered.
Even hearing her say it was a thrill.
"He's not my James any more."
"I know Samantha but he was then and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. Since the day we met."
"But it's all in the past now," she replied, confused. "I know it was unfortunate, the way things happened, but it's all in the past. I've spoken to him, you know that. He doesn't mind."
"I know," I replied, racking my
"Chef Jones!" she said in mock surprise. "I have a husband..."
It didn't sound like she was arguing, though. It sounded like she was toying with him.
The sound of her voice shook me back into the room and my eyes opened wide.
"Andrew Smith! You
are
being a naughty boy, aren't you?"
She was standing there, her brow glistening with sweat. She had on her tights, the ones she used to run and was holding a fresh, pink drink in each hand. She looked spectacular.
"Where were you?" I asked, pretending to be bleary-eyed and still half-asleep.
She gave me a sly smile. She looked down at herself, then back at me with raised eyebrows. "I was at the shops. Trying on dresses. Can't you tell?"
Cheeky. Something had definitely changed in her. Samantha wasn't normally one for sarcasm. I took the drink she was offering and took a sip. "How was your run?"
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the bed beside me.
Wonderful. I stole another glance at her perfect body. I wondered how many men had turned as she ran past? I looked up when she turned back towards me. There was something...more relaxed about her smile.
"Come here," I growled, setting down my drink on the bed table and pulling her towards me.
"Andrew! I haven't showered!" she replied. The objection seemed half-hearted. I decided to roll the dice.
"We'll have them change the sheets," I said. Setting her drink down for her, I pushed her down onto the bed and pressed onto her body with mine. She didn't resist.
I leaned close and kissed her on the lips. Her usual taste, with a hint of salty sweat. I yearned to fuck her that way. Good and dirty. When I pulled my lips from hers, she was looking at me, as if searching for something in my eyes.
"Andrew," she purred, narrowing her eyes. "Did you mean what you said last night?"
A shock tore through me. She remembered. I stared at her, wondering what she thought of it all.
"What did I say, my beauty?" I asked. I needed to be sure what she was talking about. Maybe she'd forgotten.
"What you said last night about me? With another man?"
It was so incredibly unlike her, to ask such a thing so directly. It was thrilling. I pressed my lips against her neck. I smelled the ocean air on her skin. She didn't push me away. I thought she'd push me away. I thought she'd want to talk about it. Instead, she tilted her head, letting me trail kisses down her neck and towards her chest.
My cock hardened. Good God, was she seriously contemplating this? I opened my eyes and lifted my head from her neck. She was still staring at me that same, searching stare. The sincerity of her question knocked me off my game.
"Uh...I...Samantha..." I stammered, unsure of what to say. She saved me by bursting into giggles. Giggles. At the thought of fucking another man.
"I thought you might not have been," she said finally. "I think we were both quite drunk!"
Adrenaline surged through me at the thought that she'd even been thinking about it. I couldn't just let the moment go. "No wait, let me explain." I pushed myself up on an elbow.
She was curious, her eyes still searching for the truth behind mine.
"Samantha, ever since we've met I've thought about it. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
"Thinking about what?" she asked. Even her questions seemed more confident here. Like the salty sea air gave her courage.
I breathed deeply, braced myself for the confession. "About James."
Her brow furrowed. "James?"
"James, Samantha.
Your
James."
Recognition spread across her face. "My James?" she whispered.
Even hearing her say it was a thrill.
"He's not my James any more."
"I know Samantha but he was then and I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. Since the day we met."
"But it's all in the past now," she replied, confused. "I know it was unfortunate, the way things happened, but it's all in the past. I've spoken to him, you know that. He doesn't mind."
"I know," I replied, racking my
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