Globetrotter Ingrid gets a fabulous fresh start when her job takes her to Melbourne, Australia. Here she meets wise and sweet Oliver, who makes her forget she doesn't have a heart.
This successful stability prompts Ingrid to accept an invitation to...
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October 2018
Like clockwork, Hitoshi insisted on his shower once they got back to Ingrid's, which made her declare that she could use one, too, except he didn't (want to) get the hint. Instead of suggesting that he join her, he let her go first, and she had no choice but to concede.
A perilous move, because the closer she got to sobriety, the further away Dark Ingrid slipped, and her remorse grew painful. So she dove into the engrossing journey of the morally grey protagonist waiting for her in the book on her nightstand. The jarring account of a troubled new father, made more vivid by the autobiographical sources it was based on, captivated her to the exclusion of all else.
She didn't even notice Hitoshi's presence in the room until he snatched the book from her hands.
"Ōe Kenzaburō, really? I'm impressed," he said, before she had a chance to bite his head off.
"It was recommended to me." She retrieved the novel and made sure to bookmark it before setting it aside.
"By whom?"
"By my kendo trainer."
Hitoshi's bare, sculpted torso now had her undivided attention. She marvelled at how the towel hugged his hips, stoking her imagination.
"I was in a kendo club in high school," he said. "Maybe we could go sparring one of these days."
"Well, I suppose it's more of a modern, fusion kendo. Apparently, it doesn't follow all the traditional rules and it's mixed with some Māori martial arts."
She sure was chatty tonight, Ingrid realised, and bit the inside of her cheek. Was she unwittingly trying to impress Hitoshi further? She chalked it up to the drunk sales-persona that had taken over throughout the entirety of Oktoberfest. That booze wasn't going to sell – or drink – itself.
"Interesting," Hitoshi hummed like a snake-charmer and reached out to help her up, studying her as she stood.
Her lingerie barely skimmed the top of her thighs, and the smooth silk evidenced every curve underneath. His hands first made quick work of releasing her hair from the messy bun she'd tied it up into. It flowed loose just above her shoulders. His knuckles brushed her temple, then his fingers combed through her locks and grazed her upper arm as they dragged a strap down.
His tenderness gave her goosebumps and he teased one hardened nipple through the silk. His other hand cupped a buttock, then slid around her front between her legs. Ingrid gasped at the intrusion. She grabbed onto him for support, drawing closer. Hitoshi bent to kiss her.
The negligée annoyed her.
He paused to let it fall to the floor, licking his fingers. His eyes, glazed over, promised to ravage her. She didn't resist when he pushed her on the bed and knelt between her thighs. His mouth closed in on her core, lapping her up like a cat would milk. His digits probed all her depths at once and she cried out his name, unabashed in her ecstasy. He certainly knew how to wind her up.
