Page 7 of Written in the Scars

Reagan

The blaring horns from the traffic outside startle me from my sleep. I go to sit up, flinching at the ache between my legs. My head jolts to the side, expecting to find him there, but nothing. Not even a crease in the pillow. It’s like he was never here.

Looking around my room, my dress is hung over the back of the chair. Looking down, I’m in an oversized sleep shirt, fear takingover my thoughts. I slam myself back into my pillow, pulling the duvet over my face as a muffled scream escapes me.

Embarrassment and stupidity soon wash over me. How could I be so reckless? Bringing some guy I barely know to my home and into my bed, not taking any precautions.

“Reagan, you stupid fucker!”

I mentally kick myself, as I recall the events of last night, how he made me feel, the words he spoke to me, the words I spoke to him.

Ahh, fuck it, it was fucking amazing. I’m still alive, no new scars and I’ll probably never see him again to explain anyway.

I reach over to grab my phone, surprised to find a folded piece of paper sitting on top.

Good morning, Ace.

My sincerest apologies for leaving without saying goodbye,

I had an early meeting and couldn’t bare to wake you. I have started the coffee machine so it will be ready to pour. Get yourself a hot shower, it will help with the achesyou’re feeling. There's a bag hung in your wardrobe. I expect to see you wearing its contents tonight at 7.

Till then,

Yours, Orion.

Holy crap! Rushing from my bed to my wardrobe, I pull out the dress bag to find its contents is a stunning shimmering dark green dress, spaghetti strap mid-thigh length on me, I suspect. My head is officially overrun with thoughts. I head to the kitchen for coffee, trying to make sense of all this. I need caffeine.

Setting up on the sofa with my coffee and laptop, I need to muster up some serious confidence to see this man again. I feel my cheeks burn as I think about how he had my own thong stuffed in my mouth, had me begging for him.

But damn, it was fucking hot.

Maybe asking Selene for her advice is a good idea.No, let's not go there. I open up my emails, when my phone rings.

Nathan, flashing across the screen.

For fuck’s sake!

I let the phone ring, it's my day off and I’m not giving that man a minute of my time. I add a few notes into the shared file on the story I’m covering, not that there’s much to go on. Honestly, I don’t know who sent in this tip, but it’s a complete dead end. I add that I will do one more night of scouting the place, then I’m dropping it. Someone else can waste their time on this one.

I take my time scrolling through emails, leads for stories and interview appointments. After finishing my second coffee, I make my way to the bathroom. Orion's advice on a hot shower sounds perfect about now. It's then I realize I don’t have any way to contact him, I can’t cancel or return the dress. I could possibly leave the dress at the bar, with a note, but he knows I’m going to be there for work, he knows where I live. It's inevitable, right?

Stepping into the shower, the steam enveloping my skin, as I let the hot water ease my tense aching muscles. My entire body begins to relax, so much that I decide to sit down, letting the water wash over my hair and down my back, the world around me becoming a distant memory.

My phone brings me back when the notification sound echoes off the tiled walls. Releasing a sigh, I grab for my towel, grab my phone and head to my room. I'm still working out what I should do about Orion.

Unknown number:

Good afternoon, Ace.

I hope the shower has helped. I’ll be by the front door at seven this evening, I’m looking forward to seeing you.

Orion.

I have so many questions, sitting on the end of my bed staring at the dress he left for me.

Orion

The day has dragged, endless meetings of men droning on about the businesses and their current cash flow status. Little did they know I spent more time watching Reagan as she slept, thanks to the camera I left in her bedroom, recalling how she looked with my belt around her neck, her tear-filled eyes and the glistening of her wet cunt. Leaving me sporting an uncomfortable erection as they discuss between themselves, I'm throwing in a nod here and there, my mind infatuated with this woman.