Page 6 of After Felix
A long while later, the shadows are lengthening across the room, and I know it’s time to go. I’m panting hard, the sweat and come sticky on my skin from the last bout of fucking. When my breathing levels, I roll over and sit up.
“Where are you going?” he asks lazily.
I look over my shoulder at him. He’s lying spread over the bed, the covers puddled low on his groin, showing the black bush of his pubes. His olive skin glows against the white of the sheets.
“Home,” I say cheerfully and laugh when he looks startled. “Did you think I’d moved in?”
He smiles at me. “Do you want a shower before you go?”
I look longingly towards the fantastically appointed bathroom but then shake my head. “Better not. I’ll never leave.”
Forestalling the usual awkwardness, I stand up and slide into my clothes while he lies on his back, his arms folded behind his head.
“Enjoying the show?” I say tartly, adopting a muscle-man pose.
He laughs. “Thank you,” he says.
“What for?”
He shrugs. “A good shag.”
That startles a laugh out of me, and I sit on the bed to put on my shoes. “I am rather good at it.” He grins and nudges me with his foot until I laugh again. “It was my pleasure.”
“Twice,” he reminds me.
I think of the second time when he’d pinned me to the bed and fucked me so hard I saw stars. “Mustn’t forget the twice,” I say solemnly as I stand.
“Wait.” He rolls over and grabs Charlie’s book out of the bag on the bedside table.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he rifles through the drawer.
“Looking for a pen.”
“Hope you’re not going to try to replicate that boring old shit,” I say, grabbing my jacket.
“I’d never try that,” he says solemnly. “It took long enough to write it in the first place.”
“What?” I gape at him as he opens the book and starts to scrawl something on the flyleaf. “What are youdoing? That’s a birthday present you’re defacing there.”
He winks at me. “Just signing it for you, darling.”
“What?” I ask again, reaching over and grabbing the book. I open it and stare down at the page. The signature is a messy scrawl under the dedication, but it clearly says,Max Travers.I stare down at it and then look up at him. He’s lounging against the pillows, vastly amused.
“Oh my God,you’rethe journalist?”
“The boring one? Yes, that’s me.”
My cheeks flush. “Why didn’t yousaysomething?”
He shrugs, unholy laughter dancing in his eyes. “I wasn’t wearing my official journalist visor. And trying to keep up with your friend’s Aunt Val’s drinking plays havoc with a bloke’s reflexes.”
“Ohshit,” I groan. I look down at the picture on the dust jacket and blink. “Is that your –?”
“My official photo?” He nods. “Yep.”
“Good grief, that’s a rather threatening pose. I hope they treated you well in prison,” I say sympathetically. He starts to laugh, and I shake my head. “Well, I hope you’re happy now,” I say darkly. “I’m now going to have to buy another copy of your book for Charlie. I’m quite sure he’ll never understand why Max Travers, the famous journalist, thinks his arse is the best he’s ever had and that he should be knighted for his dedication to blowjobs.” He’s still laughing when I bend down to kiss him. “Thanks for the shag,” I say cheekily and make my way to the door.
Half of me doesn’t want to go, but I’ve got his measure. This isn’t the first time he’s done this or even the millionth. I look back at him in bed and freeze the pretty picture in my head and then leave the room with the sound of his laughter echoing in my ears.
