Page 159 of Tempting All The Way

A weekend spent with Alistair Warner is not for the faint of heart. I’m not sure there is a surface left in his apartment that we haven’t christened. Multiple times.

I turn my head to look over at him. He’s asleep. Finally. I feel like I’ve been waiting for hours for him to fall asleep. I need to gohome, and whenever I’ve broached the subject over the past two days, he’s distracted me with more orgasms.

It hasn’t just been sex either. We’ve talked. A lot. We even played card games, which turned into us betting sexual favours to make things more interesting. Ever played Go Fish where the prize for winning is twenty minutes of Alistair Warner going downtown?

I have. And let me tell you, I was not going to lose that game. Although, I do wonder if he let me win. It’s not like he doesn’t enjoy going down on me.

One of us has to break this bubble that we’ve created. It’s Sunday afternoon and I really do need to go home, do laundry, prepare for the upcoming work week. All of the above.

I slide out from underneath his arm. Every time I have to sneak out on him, my heart pounds like he’s going to wake up and catch me. I’m not sure what he’ll do, but I do know he hates it. I just need to get home. It’s either that or end up having to go to work tomorrow wearing his clothes. Which will only happen when hell freezes over.

Tiptoeing out of the bedroom, I find my clutch on the entrance table and stab at the elevator button, cringing when the doors ping open, the noise echoing through the silent apartment. The ride down is eerily quiet, but as soon as I hit the street outside of his building, the sounds of the city on a Sunday afternoon surround me. People walking dogs, joggers, mums pushing strollers. I call for an Uber on my phone and wait all of two minutes for the driver to pull up in front of me.

“Hi, thank you,” I say, climbing into the back seat.

“Hey, how’s your day been?” the driver asks.

“Good,” I answer, then pull up the group message on my phone with my friends.

Me:

Pizza, wine. Now!

Their responses flow in immediately, and I can’t help but wonder if there ever is a time when their phones aren’t in their hands.

Daisy:

I got the wine.

Eloise:

I’ll get the pizza.

Claire:

I’ll bring myself then.

Me:

Thank you.

“Another.” I hold up my glass for Claire to refill.

“Are you sure? It’s a school night,” she questions while topping me off anyway.

“Maybe I’ll call in sick,” I lie.

I haven’t used a sick day in over two years. Even with the whole Hunter thing, I didn’t take time off. I cancelled the leave that was meant to be my honeymoon and carried on working. Work is my coping mechanism for shitty life events. It’s a great distraction. Or at least it was before I was working for the lady Viagra man.

“Argh, why does he have to be so good at sex?” I groan.

“You did meet him in a sex club,” Daisy says.

“Don’t remind me.” I run a hand down my face. “I just… I need… I don’t know what I need but I’m pretty sure it’s not Alistair Warner.”

“Or he’s exactly what you need,” Eloise argues.

“How so?”

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