Page 111 of CowSex
“You can think what you like.”
“I think you love my body, how it looks, and especially how it feels when it’s inside yours.”
Whorey Wanty me is nodding her head in agreeance while leaving a snail trail across my shoulder.
She’s such a slut.
OverThinking me packed her bags, waved the white flag, and absolved herself from all things Koa the second he told me he was cacking himself.
I let out another over exaggerated sigh. I’m still pissed off at his attitude towards me, but at the same time, I’m chuffed to bits that he reacted at all.
Does that make me sad? Who gives a fuck, not me.
Much.
For fuck's sake, I’m doing my own head in right now.
I need alcohol to help me figure things out.
“Go open a bottle of red and bringitand two glasses to my bathroom.”
“I love it when you’re bossy.”
“I don’t care what you love.” I feel his stomach and shoulders move as he laughs in my ear.
“You plan on carrying on this hissy fit for a while, Essex? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, it’s making me hard baby.”
“Then I’ll stop right now. Go fetch the wine and glasses.”
He kisses my ear, making a big wet sloppy noise.
“Go to my bathroom, the bathtub in there’s bigger.” He smacks my arse and heads back down the stairs.
A half an hour later, we’re lying at each end of the enormous oval-shaped bathtub I’d failed to notice was in Koa’s ensuite.
I’d used my Molton Brown Caju and Lime fragranced bath gel to create a mass of bubbles, and we were staring at each other over them now as we sipped our wine.
Jess Glynne was singing about being taken and home, and we listened in silence.
I hadn’t invited Koa to join me. I’d run the bath, added the bubbles, and stepped in. He’d appeared a few minutes later, naked, on his knees carrying wine. I’d merely shaken my head and accepted the glass as he’d climbed into the water. All the while fighting back a smile.
He’s such a dickhead, but for now, he’s my dickhead.
I didn’t often take baths. They gave me too much time to think, something I did far too much of anyway. A quick in and out shower with my music blaring was more my gig. My aim was to remain focused on what needed doing and the words to whatever song was cranking.
“Does it hurt?” Koa interrupts my musings.
“Hmmm?”
“Your head, does it ever hurt with exhaustion from all the thinking it does?”
How does he know that? I smile because I fucking love the fact that he does. Then I remember I’m pissed off with him and give him evils instead.
“Who says I’m thinking?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen younotthinking.”
“Is it even possiblenotto think? If I stopped thinking, how would I function?”
