Page 23 of The Naked Cleaner

“I like kisses.” My traitorous mouth blurts out.

“Okay.” He breathes. Breathlessly, his body tensing a little.

“We don’t have to. You can say no.” I say, faster than I should. Not smooth, Louis. Not smooth at all.

He’s quiet. No doubt thinking about how to formulate a non-patronising rejective answer.

“I’m not a total eejit, I fully respect boundaries.” I state like an uptight plonker. I should just gently grab his chin and kiss the fuck out of him. Romance is a thing, Louis.

“Kisses are nice. Just kisses. You can have one. A good-night kiss.”

Fuck, he’s cute. What the hell am I doing? I’m glad it’s dark, because I doubt either of us would dare to do this in the morning. We won’t talk about this in the morning. I know that already. He will just ignore me, and I will ignore him and we will watch more TV and eat muesli, and I will go to work and things will be fine.

Nothing is fine. Things arefiiiiiiiine.

He’s twisting in my arms and suddenly there is hot breath against my cheek, and he’s too close and his chest is pressed against mine, and fuck his arms are tugging at my hips and ugh. Ooops.

Cock. Hello. Cock. Against Cock.

He has some kind of semi brewing.

I’m... Yup... Doesn’t take much to have me filling out nicely between the sheets.

He kisses me. A soft, sweet, super-gorgeous press against my mouth and I make some silly sound I am not proud of, and then he releases, and I whine like a baby and kiss him again, because my arms are wrapped up around his waist and I kiss and I kiss, and I fucking don’t know how to stop.

Fuck.

Fuck, yes.

He said one good-night kiss.

It’s going to be a long night, because one kiss won't be nearly enough.

Chapter Nine

Pontus

The flat looks completely normal. The sunshine streaming through the windows, the branches on the trees outside casting dancing shadows over the floor, and across the sofa where the blankets are neatly folded over the armrest. The coffee table is clear and obviously wiped down. The kitchen looks... Clean.

And somehow it feels like I might have dreamt the whole thing. Apart from that my cheeks blush at the thoughts of last night. Or early this morning. Whatever time we’ve decided to go to bed, and then I said some seriously slutty shit and Louis kissed me and I humped the hell out of him and...oh fuck.

My head falls in my hands. I did not just do that. Yes, I did. I whine and hug myself.

I am naked. Like meeting this Louis dude has made me think that walking around in my own home, stark naked, is normal. For the record, it’s not, and I am not about to become some weird-ass nudist, just because Louis walks around with that dick of his hanging out, and it bounces around against his balls when he moves and his arse is…

I groan. Loudly.

It’s almost nine, I have overslept like some teenage loser, and I have so much work to do that my head hurts.

Instead I am aimlessly walking around the flat as the coffee machine hisses and drips in the background and I wonder when Louis left.

There is no note. No text message on my almost-dead phone. Nothing.

Not that I have his number saved, so I quickly google his stupid website and add his details to my contacts. Still no message. I am not going to send him one. We are not boyfriends. That... that whatever it was, that went on last night wasnota hook-up. That was stupid and irresponsible and weird and I behaved like the emotionally stunted dickwad that I am, and…

I cringe again. Whine loudly in frustration.

We didn’t talk, just snogged the hell out of each other and he sucked those bruises into my collarbone, and I catch sight of myself in the hallway mirror, and fucking hell, I am all blotchy on my neck and what the hell has he done to…? Yes. There is a bite mark. On my shoulder.

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