Page 72 of Mark

The last thing I remember is riding the mechanical bull. My legs hurt just thinking about it.

Needing to soothe my dry throat, I go to sit up. And that’s the moment the warm, hard chest I’m lying on finally registers.

No.

No, no, no.

I slowly sit up, brushing my hair out of my face as I stare down at the man I swore I wouldn’t go near.

One leg is cocked, hanging off the side of the bed. One hand rests against his chest, whilst the other has fallen to my arse.

This can’t be happening.

I quickly slide out of bed, tip-toeing my way over to the bathroom. My dress and phone lie on the floor, and I kneel down to grab my phone before locking myself in the bathroom. I glance into the mirror, taking three soothing breaths. Mascara clings to my cheeks and my lipstick is smudged.Classy. I pick a straw, then a cocktail umbrella out of my hair, grimacing.

I glance down at my attire, wheezing. I’m wearing his T-shirt, the one he changed into after I pushed him into the pool. I’m not wearing a bra, but I do have my underwear on. It should count for something, but it doesn’t. I can feel we had sex last night. This isn’t a case of him carrying me to bed and we both passed out. We fucked.

I close my eyes, and images of last night flash through my mind. I remember arguing with him about the girls he was talking to. I remember his confusion. But then images of me straddling him on a chair flicker through my mind. I remember his hands on my arse. I remember my sister trying to pull me away, then Danny trying to get involved.

I move away from the mirror to sit down on the toilet seat, putting my head in my hands.

Oh God.

I remember him pinning me against the door, his hand under my dress whilst he finger-fucked me.

Oh God.

I begged him for more.

I needed more.

I can still feel his fingers on my hips as he fucked me. I can still feel his abs as I rode him.

God, I can remember how good my orgasm had been. I’ve never had one during sex before, and it took me by surprise. I cried out, earning complaints from passengers in the neighbouring room.

I dial the only person who can help me, who will tell me what to do. Summer answers after the third ring.

“Bitch, when you wake a girl up with messages like those, you stay awake to answer them,” she greets.

“Messages?” I whisper. “Hold on.” I bring the phone down, scrolling through WhatsApp. My eyes widen at the pictures of me and Mark. One is of me kissing his cheek. The other is of us stuffing our faces with a cheeseburger. But nothing is more embarrassing than the messages where I’m telling her I’m going to fuck Mark, or the ones after, where I went into detail about how good he is with his tongue. “Oh God.”

“Freya? Freya? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” I whisper. “Oh my god, I had sex with our neighbour.”

“Yeah you did!” she cheers.

“Please, not so loud,” I hiss. “What do I do? He’s still there.”

“Get back into bed with him then.”

I run a hand over my face. “No! I can’t believe I slept with him.”

“Why? This is what you wanted, or you were talking about it,” she replies.

“That was before I saw him with two girls,” I growl. “What am I going to do? Last night is still a blur, but what was I thinking? I don’t want to be the girl who lets a guy use her. Oh God, how am I going to look at him again without remembering that I begged him to go harder?”

She splutters out a laugh. “My girl is kinky between the sheets,” she teases. “And what girls? You didn’t mention any girls.”