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Chapter 1

I blush, I can feel it, the burn of it on my cheeks as he comes into view and seeing the naked glory of him I feel intimidated and jealous of his ease at being naked. I am staring at his naked rear view; his hair is mussed, very much a bed head, down to his broad and muscular shoulders that are flexing as he stretches, his narrower waist and then his hips and behind, oh gosh I had no idea that any man could have such a beautiful arse.

I am unsure if he is putting on some kind of show for me but if he is then I really am very appreciative of it.

Without warning he turns and I blush further in the certain knowledge that he has caught me looking at him which his cocky smirk seems to confirm. I can't help myself now as I drink in his appearance from the front; his smooth chest and the tattoo that is a black, tribal design, all lines and curves covering the one side of his chest. I know that at some point I traced the lines of it with my finger and then my tongue. Bloody hell, what happened to me last night? Next it's the brown discs of his nipples that I suddenly recall sucking on, licking and nipping at! My colour rises a little more as I scan the hard, sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the trail of dark hair heading south from his naval past that muscular 'V' leading to, oh my, his erection!
I have no clue where to look or what to do so try to focus on something less sexual if that's possible in these circumstances but as I divert my gaze to his biceps I see another tattoo, this one is also tribal and covers the whole of his upper arm and incorporates a dragon or something similar and the sight of that reminds me of how I held onto those arms as he rested above me to drive into me, the way he held me in the same arms...

"Am I making my own coffee or do you think you can take your eyes off me long enough to at least put a kettle on?" he asks me and I am even more embarrassed than previously, not only because he has busted my ogling but because of the way he is speaking to me, abruptly.

The warmth of last night seems to be going fast, as if once he is out of my bed I am nothing. I know that I am indeed nothing since we met last night and we don't know each other beyond the sex, the sex that was the best I think I have ever experienced, the way he touched me, talked to me, controlled the moments we shared. No doubt about it, he is the best I have had. I am beyond crimson now as I recall begging him to make me come.

Yes, I am nothing and am unworthy of anything resembling respect to have sunk to such depths is what I tell myself and yet the events of last night, if not this morning feel like they're significant. Not my Adonis of a quick shag himself but the decision to bring him back here and to forget, or at least ignore my self-doubt and loathing.

"I said," he begins as if he is about to repeat his coffee requirements and another layer of annoyance is added.

"Sorry, yes," I say with a weak smile as I wait for him to go to the bathroom or somewhere else, anywhere but he is still standing there, staring at me, waiting.

"Could you pass my erm, my robe?" I ask, cringing.

"Why? It's not like you have anything I haven't seen already," he replies as he lifts my robe from the back of a chair.
I am sure that I breathe a sigh of relief that we both hear when he grips the satin fabric and prepares to throw it. Unfortunately for me he tosses my robe farther away increasing my horror at my situation. Maybe he is going to increase my self-loathing rather than reducing it I think and then wonder when he changed from charming to dickhead before immediately answering my own question, when you brought him home and shagged him, like a slapper.

"Did you want a shower?" I ask in a high pitched voice that sounds unfamiliar to me but I am just trying to get him far enough away that I can put some clothing on and then I will make his coffee.

He shrugs and takes a long stride toward me. "You offering to join me?" he asks and I am floundering, unsure how to deal with his suggestion, flat tone or the thrill that is humming through my body at the thought of it.

"We could finish the night off the way it started, or maybe I could have you on your knees again, begging to suck my dick, do you remember how you begged for it?" he asks and I can see and hear a hard edge to him, the torment clear to me, both qualities I don't like and yet my treacherous body is pulsating at the idea of what he's suggesting, my core turning to molten liquid as he stares across at me, waiting for me to do or say something.

His laugh startles me as does the action of him reaching for my robe and throwing it in my direction. I really, really need him gone, out of my bedroom, out of my flat and consigned to the large chapter of my life entitled, 'The Many Mistakes I've Made'.

"Forget the shower, but the coffee would be appreciated, I have a long and dull day ahead," he says with a little warmth infiltrating his voice as he reaches for his clothes that lie scattered around my room, well some of them do.

Looking down at the gathered clothing in his hands he heads towards the lounge and kitchen to find his missing items. I have enough time to put my robe on and fasten it before rushing through to the kitchen where I find him dressing.

The kettle seems to take an eternity to boil, but once I hand him a steaming mug we stare at each other for a while, him drinking his coffee and me hoping that I can avoid vomiting in front of him before I finally attempt to excuse myself.

"I need to get ready for work," I explain.

An understanding nod is his response as the coffee cup is placed on the kitchen counter before he moves closer, allowing me a final smell of his divine aroma.

"You have a nice place here. But as I said, a long and busy day awaits, so I'll be off, last night was fun," he tells me and is then heading for the door leaving me wondering if this is the norm when you bring a stranger home with you.

"I didn't get your name," I blurt out and realise how slutty that makes me sound and feel, slutty and ashamed, both things I have rarely felt in the last seven years, but sadly both feelings I am more than familiar with courtesy of my damaged formative years.

"Nor I yours, so let's not spoil it, one night or forever, it was still fun, bye."

Then he is gone and I have no way of knowing how I feel about the last twelve hours of my life beyond sad, I think. Unfortunately I have no time to deliberate further as I have to get ready for work and am already late. Rushing towards the bathroom I feel that my most delicate and intimate folds are sore and tingling, but in a good way and again I wonder what the hell got into me beyond my overnight guest.