Pain is an understatement.
I groan once the light hits my eyes.
Everything is blurry. For a second, I didn't know who or where I was. I don't remember how I got into bed or how there were torn clothes all over the room. Then, everything processes.
I am in my bedroom.
There are more than four walls around me.
The bathroom is to the left.
The balcony is to the right.
The thing on top of me is a ceiling followed by a blanket.
The thing under me is a pillow and mattress.
I slowly sit up, feeling the aching sensation that follows, and everything seems clear now.
I'm naked.
The man beside me is also nak-
I take a double-take to see the man resting peacefully on his stomach beside me. There was uncertainty and a small gap between us, allowing the fresh air to breathe in between as a result of the boiling temperature between us.
My mouth slightly parted as the muscles on his broad back tightened with each shift.
Everything is definitely crystal clear.
Anthony and I did the dirty laundry last night...that's an expression, obviously.
Afterward, we attempted to cuddle, but I think I kicked him on the other side of the bed because he was too sweaty and hot. The burning sensation in my body did not help either. In conclusion, he slept on his side, and I slept like a baby on mine.
I close my eyes, covering my face with the blanket in an attempt to hide the glee. I cannot believe we did it! Placing a hand on my aching back, I'm grateful Anthony, is not the type to do a morning round because he seems to knock out. Then again, I don't think I'm a morning workout kind of person.
The sheets seem to shuffle lightly before Anthony's face reveals itself. His eyes were in a scrunching manner, hair in disarray probably from my constant hair-pulling last night. There was a thin line resting on where a smile should be. He was goddam tired. "Five more minutes," he grumbles, before burying his face into the pillow.
I cover my mouth when a snicker escapes, due to his sudden baby-like complaint. I poke his bicep to receive a muffled sound in return. Resting back down on the bed, I inched closer to Anthony and began running my fingers down the tattoos on his arm. At that moment, I can only feel one thing, tranquility.
"My legs hurt," I complain.
"I'll call someone to book you a spa day."
"But, I want you to massage me," I joke, acting like a spoiled wife.
Anthony is oddly extremely obedient. He grunts before sitting upward, allowing me to see all of his glory before he places his hands on my thighs, causing me to yelp in surprise. He began massaging my legs. I close my eyes and groan when he hits a sore spot but exhales a moan when a pleasurable squeeze makes its appearance.
Allowing my sights to return, Anthony's eyes were still shut. He is definitely not a romantic person after several rounds of good lovemaking.
Anthony fell on top of me, and his weight took all my air away. I pound a fist on his back. "Sleep."
I blew the strand of hair from my face and shifted my body till his chest was against my back. Looking at the trashcan, it's filled with used condoms. There's a knock on the door. Anthony lazily grabbed the blanket and threw it over us before saying: "Enter."
