Page 41 of Off-Limits

And then she’s offline, and I’m left to wranglemy wayward thoughts, aching cock, and another bottle of whiskey. Just peachy.

Someone,kill me now.

Fuck me my head is killing me, and it tastes like something shat in my mouth. Rolling over to avoid the sun shining in through the curtains, I groan when I feel like a basketball is thumping around in my skull. Reluctantly, I try and open my eyes to check the time, and as soon as the sliver of light hits my retinas, I growl and throw the pillow over my head.

Laying there as still as I can, I try and piece together the day and night. It comes flooding in like a tsunami, threatening to throw me beneath the raging waters. I can’t fucking believe I said that shit to Dottie.

Fuck. She is going to hate me, and she’d have every reason, too. I feel like a cunt, but it’s probably best this way. Keep her at arms distance until she’s finished the mural and back in Sydney, but then I hear those little whimpers and moans in my head.

I didn’t imagine that shit.

I guess I pissed her off that much she had to rub one out, and I hate that I both love and loathe that thought in the same breath. If she was my girl, her ass would be black and blue right now, but she’s not, and that’s the way it’s staying. Forcing myself to open my eyes, I glance down at my phone to find it’s three in the afternoon and there is a message from Blossom. Opening it,

I read through our texts again; grateful she agreed to meetat Rafters Falls. It’s a small quaint town an hour away and it has everything a person could want in a small town.

Recreational areas, rivers for white water rafting, cafes, restaurants, bars and even a club, along with all the basic shit a town needs to thrive in this shitty market. A sense of relief washes over me, knowing I won’t have to meet her anywhere near this hole of a place.

I type out a quick message.

Dinner and drinks, Blossom?

Her reply is instant.

Do you think drinks are wise?

Dutch courage, princess.

I’m not a princess!

I chuckle at that.

Alright. Let me see what I can arrange, and I’ll get back to you.

She sends a thumbs up, and just as I’m about to close out of the message, a picture starts to load. I sit up in my bed, fuck the headache that tries to slow me down. I’m ready for whatever she has to throw at me.

When I see another one of her black and white photographs—this one of her in the shower covering her tits, angled down to showcase her stunning figure, stopping right before the promised land—I release a feral growl.

This is going to be a long ass morning.

After three wanks, two cups of black coffee, and a healthy serving of bacon and eggs, I feel a little more humanthan a few hours ago. The headache is still bugging me, but it isn’t as bad as earlier, thankfully, so I focus on the paperwork I need to have signed and ready tomorrow for the attorney.

I can’t wait to unshackle myself from Kerry-Anne, and I know the only reason she has signed the papers is because she’s hoping the cop she cheated on me with years ago, is going to marry her old, wrinkly, Botox ass.

I shiver at the thought, not to mention knowing I shoved my dick in it.

The front door bangs closed, and my body ripples in goosebumps. I keep my head down, attempting to focus on the paperwork and not the fact I know Dottie is about three seconds away from entering the kitchen.

Three.

Two.

One.

On cue, she enters. My grin resurfaces, but I keep my head down. I would bet my left nut if I look up at her now, she would be blushing because we both know I heard her last night, and she did it on purpose to rile me up.

“Damon. Sorry, I didn’t know you were home.”

“Well, it is my apartment.”