Page 79 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

I sit up, letting the blanket fall to my lap. I frown and look around my bedroom, seeing nothing has been touched.

Did Briar carry me herself? Why did she leave?

Memories of last night come crashing in, and I can't help but groan out of embarrassment. Fuck, did she leave because I fell asleep after I orgasmed? It was that good that I felt completely tired. I was so tired that my heart also stopped.

Literally.

Fuck, I need to visit my doctor for that monthly check-up.

I sigh, my mind going back to Briar. It was weird having her inside my place. No one ever comes in here. Not even Oscar or Mum. My apartment is my safe space; it's a place where I can unwind and just be me.

So why the fuck didn't I freak out when Briar walked inside? Why did seeing her rummaging through my kitchen like some nosey busybody feel so… right?

I don't understand it.

I have a fucking murderer in my safe space!

Briar's face appears in my thoughts. Fuck, she's so beautiful. She's so beautiful that when she kissed me, I didn't stop her.

Maybe because you’ve been dying to do the same.

I scoff at the unwanted thought. But I still can't believe what happened last night. I can’t believe we both let it go that far. I can still remember the feeling of her lips around my cock, and the way she sucked me dry.

My dick twitches at the memory, and I immediately glare down at it. “Stop that right now.”

My dick responds by hardening.

“You fucking traitor,” I snap at it, throwing the blanket off of me and getting out of bed. “That will never happen again.”

I spot my phone charging on the bedside table and grab it. I swipe it open and am immediately greeted with text messages from Briar.

CRAZY MIGRAINE:

-Good morning! I hope you slept well xx

-You like the Xs I included? I noticed you British people love adding those. They mean kisses, right?

-Awwww, well here’s some more xxxxxxxxxxxxx

ME:

-I'm Scottish.

CRAZY MIGRAINE:

-??

-But Scotland is part of the United Kingdom. Aren’t you technically British?

ME:

-I consider myself Scottish, Briar.

CRAZY MIGRAINE:

-What’s the difference??

I glare at the text message, my thumb at the ready to educate the fuck out of this ignorant American woman on why I consider myself Scottish and not British — Fuck technicalities.

---