Blues

26. I Got The Blues

"As I stand by your flame 
I get burned once again 
Feelin' low down, I'm blue.."
I got the blues by The Rolling Stones.

“For fuck’s sake, Cheryl! Stop yelling into my ear.” A grating voice twitches me out of my deep, snug sleep. I know the voice before I even turn my head to look at its possessor, yet my stomach convulses and my heart palpitates with unease, disconcerted by what will happen when he ends the call. Scared of last night's consequences.

He hums, his voice sounds muffled. “We had to leave.. Yeah, none of your business.” He indifferently states.

Shit! We left yesterday without alerting Cheryl. We were like horny rabbits hunting for a place to get it over with, and I didn't perpend the consequences enough, or I wouldn't be here, naked, and covered by an obsidian sheet. I've always been circumspect, but ever since I've met him, and I'm not myself.

He remains silent for a moment, before he huffs and mutters, “fine” and then I hear him slapping the phone on what I assume is the nightstand. I stay frozen in my place, admonishing myself to stay heedful not to apprise him of my wakeful state. I want to avoid the awkward morning after for as long as I can. I don't even have my phone on me to seek Wikihow's help.

Despite all of that, I don't regret last night. Not even a small tad.

My core agrees, tautening at the delicious memories of last night. Every sensual touch. Every carnal word. Every ecstatic release. All these memories overrun every corner of my head at once.

Abruptly, the bed squeaks, before I hear his almost mute footsteps, and I'm confounded by how the bed feels so empty and cold without him. Even though it's not the first time I sleep on this bed, yesterday was different, especially since he shared it with me.

Though we barely had any sleep.

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand on my cheek, and it takes all of my might not to blink or move a muscle, and so soon, the hand leaves my cheek, only to be replaced by a featherlight kiss. “Keep pretending to be asleep.” He whispers, and then I sense him traipsing away, before I hear the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door being slammed shut.

Oh crap! How did he know?

I hasten to leave the bed, collecting my scattered clothes from the floor, before I swiftly shove my legs into my panties, followed by my bra and dress. Just as I scour around, hunting for my shoes, the door opens.

A dark chuckle fills the room “Why, aren't you a coward, Candy?”

I whip around, my eyes widening, only for my jaw to drop open too at the spectacle I see in front of me.

He's standing there, in his naked glory, his eyes fixated on me, while his hands deliberately dry his hair with a white towel. My eyes trail down, scrutinizing the tiny lines that are chiseled into his abdomen, all the way to his morning wood.

Fuck me to tears!

Ostensibly, he notices my precious reaction, emanating a low chuckle. “Are you going to help me with that, or are you just staring?” He queries, taking a pair of boxer-briefs out of his cupboard, before he pulls them on.

His crudity makes my eyes widen even more. “No! I was searching for my shoes.” I croak out.

He cocks his head to the side. “You mean the ones I removed before I ate you out?” He asks, totally sedate.

My eyes falls shut, and I silently adjure myself to remain temperate. The guy is going to torture me for the rest of my life. “Jesus! Yeah, those.”