Chapter twenty-seven

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Golden light tore my eyes open, as well as the loud singing from the inconsiderate birds that fluttered by which didn't seem to realise not all of us were morning people and like not being awoken by annoying fucking tunes.

I groaned and tried to roll over, to shut out the blinding sunlight which pierced the single window, but then realised that there was a large, muscled arm draped around my waist and someone pressed against my back.

Memories from last night came tumbling into my mind.

And, fuck, I couldn't even blame it on the alcohol. All of the vodka had been wiped from my system the second my hands seemed to merge with the toilet seat.

The next thing I seemed to notice, was the soreness between my legs.

The downsides of fucking someone with a massive dick, which he really didn't need anyway considering his ego was big enough already.

I wrapped my hand around his wrist and pulled it from my waist.

My phone was on the floor, where I must of dropped it when I first came in last time. I reached down to it and clicked the home button and my screen flared to life. 09:38.

I sighed, chucking the sheets from my body, careful not to wake Azael.

I didn't bother putting my underwear back on, The top was big enough to conceal everything and I was only walking to the bathroom.

I opened the door, half-walking, half-shuffling to it, then shut it quietly once I'd walked through it.

I entered the bathroom locking the door behind me and made my way over to the large floor to ceiling mirror.

I lifted my top and cringed when I saw deep red and purple patches of skin which trailed from my abdomen, over my breast, and up my neck.

Dickhead.

How the fuck did he expect me to cover them?

I tipped my head back and sighed loudly, before dropping my top back down to conceal most of the hickeys.

But the ones on my neck were still very much visible.

I picked up the toothbrush which I had left on the smooth white counters, squeezed on too much toothpaste out of my annoyance and brushed my teeth.

It didn't mean anything, Azael and I having sex. People had one night stands all the time and that was exactly what it was. A one night stand.

He still made my blood boil and I could guarantee I still made his, too. Us fucking was just away to... relieve our frustration over each other.

I carried on brushing my teeth, and then spat it out when I had finished, running the tap to wash the remanence away.

I wouldn't exactly mind if it happened again. It didn't mean anything. He didn't mean anything. Even if he now knew about my scars.

I hoped he wouldn't ask about them, about why I did it, how it started.

It was just sex. I knew that. He knew that.

I moved to the door gritting my teeth at the gnawing pain between my thighs.

I swear to fucking god if he makes a comment about it I will punch him.

I entered the room again, the sunlight made a striking contrast against the shadows of his cheek bones.

His eye peaked open and he sleepily looked me over, from my bare legs to my tired face, he lingered on my neck, a corner of his lip pulling upward.

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