Page 115 of Strangers in my Bed


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“Honestly, Ant, I’m sorry,” I say when he’s back and presenting me with a glass of mineral water.

“You’re not the one who should be sorry. Gerwyn’s going to feel like a slanderous prick when he finds out what happened here tonight. Backstabbing me the first chance that he gets. Making me out to be someone I’m not to the person I love the most.”

I get another guilty shudder, remembering the genuine concern in Gerwyn’s eyes when he asked about Ant’s drinking.

I try to assure Ant the best I can.

“It not Gerwyn’s fault. I promise. He wasn’t doing it to be a backstabber, I swear!”

Ant pauses, staring hard before he speaks next. I can barely breathe, I’m so nervous.

“Alright, I believe you,” he says. “So, for you, I’ll be willing to hold back from telling him how you screamed at me. I don’t want Gerwyn to hate you when he’s barely even met you. I wouldn’t want him to think you’re vindictive when you’re anything but.”

I hadn’t thought about it from that angle, and the realisation that I betrayed Gerwyn hits me in the guts. He could hate me for it, and why the hell wouldn’t he?

“I’ll do that for you, baby, don’t worry,” Ant says, and strokes my face. “Ger must have had so much faith in you to risk talking to you like that. I don’t want that to die a death because of one crazy outburst from you when you were trashed as fuck on De Chante. I’m sure you’d have thought better of it if you were sober.”

I get a rush of relief.

“I’m really grateful. I want Gerwyn to be my friend as well as yours.”

“Me holding back the truth from him comes with one condition, though,” Ant says. “You have to assure me you won’t listen to any of his melodramatic bullshit again if he tries to confide in you. He crusades against problems wherever he looks, even where there aren’t any. His concerns are very noble, but very out of proportion. If he talks to you again like that, just smile and brush it aside, and definitely don’t use it against me.”

“No problem,” I say. “I won’t take any of it onboard again, I swear, and I definitely won’t use it against you.”

He kisses me with a smile, then pulls me close and holds me tight. The relief I’m feeling brings a shudder of tears, but Ant rocks me with a shh.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “You did what you thought was right, Cass. Sometimes we get it wrong, but that’s ok. You won’t do it again.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

Thank God I’m still his girl after that spectacle.

“I’ve got something for you,” he says and goes to the bedside drawer.

I know from his tone that it’s a present for me, and I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.

He presents me with another jewellery box, wrapped up in a gold ribbon.

“No, you don’t have to,” I say, but he holds it out for me.

“Cass. Take your present please.”

I take the box, tugging the ribbon free with shaky fingers, and it’s another necklace. This time the jewels are sapphire and the chain is beautiful – definitely white gold.

“You don’t need to do this –” I try to say, but he cuts me off.

“I don’t need to. I want to. You’re an amazing woman, and I want you to know that. It’s not easy to live up to what I desire, but you do it, and this is a small token of my appreciation.”

The thought of getting rewarded for taking a load of guys’ cum in my pussy makes me feel gross, but I smile at him with a thank you.

He holds it up to the light and it sparkles even more elegantly.

“You need beautiful jewellery to live up to you,” he whispers. “You always look so stunning, baby. The jewellery will be honoured to be around your neck, and I’m honoured to put it there.”

He looks so proud and happy, despite the fact I just screamed at him a few minutes ago. I pull him in for a hug, soaking in the strength and the scent of him, still in his suit from earlier. He’s my dream.

“Time for bed now, princess,” he says. “You’re going to need to sleep in tomorrow. You’ll be so hungover and sore you might not be able to get up all day, but that’s ok. I’ll be taking care of you.”

I think he’s right on that. My pussy is still leaking and throbbing, and my head feels trashed enough already without the hangover hitting me full on in the morning. It’s going to hurt like a bitch when I wake up.

He helps me into my nightdress, slips off my ruined stockings and slides me into some panties. I’m still sopping wet between my legs, and if I was sober enough to stand up straight I might ask that he helps shower me, but I don’t. I’m too tired.

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