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God. The things he did to my body last night.
I bite my bottom lip in reminiscence.
Fingers to my lips, I touch the swell his kisses made.
Dragging my hand down my neck, I rub the tender spots pierced by his teeth.
My nipples feel bruised, tender to the touch, but still, they ache for more.
He was rough. And attentive. Anddesperate.
His touch was insistent. His gaze constant. The way he worshipped my body felt cultish. Imposing without being forceful. Obsessive without being excessive. I would’ve devoted my life to our cause in those hours. Our pleasure was all that mattered. We overindulged—needing,wantingthe relief only our connected bodies could bring.
Space didn’t exist between us. He sat on the bed with me settled on his lap and let me ride him slowly, our breaths mingled, hands exploring. Then again as I lay on my side, his body pressed against my back as his hips rolled to dip his cock in and out of my heat, and he whispered the filthy ways he needed me into my ear.
We fucked hard. Then we fucked lazily. Our slow and languid climax fired something inside us both, hurtling us back into a fiery and passionate tangle of limbs.
Feeling along the cotton of the sheet, I seek the touch of his skin, but only his warmth remains. My eyes flash open, and I sit, pulling the sheet up against my naked chest.
“Brooks?” I call out, searching around the room.
“Brooks?” I repeat, throwing my feet over the side of the bed when he doesn’t answer.
I listen carefully for any hint of his presence, but the room feels empty, and I feel cold.
I scan the space, but his suit— that had last night decorated my hotel room floor— was gone. No trace of him left behind.
I reach for my phone, but the smooth line of the hotel stationery meets my fingers first.
The bedsheet drops as I open the folded page.
Henley.
I love you.
I know that you know that.
I know you love me back.
We just can’t seem to do it hard enough.
Why is that?
I wasn’t lying when I told you last night wasn’t our time. I’m leaving, or more, by the time you’re reading this, I’ve left. Addy’s wedding was a fly in, fly out for me. I have a job that I was due at a few days ago. One I’d love to tell you about when I see you next.
It’s a little remote.
Like the Altai Mountains in Siberia type remote.
I imagine it’ll remind me a lot of you. But then, most things do.
Squirrel, you promised me you wouldn’t hate me. Fuck, I hope you keep that promise.
Be happy, my gypsy girl.
Tomorrow in the future?
For always.
