Meeting Her Match - Page 7

‘You’ve done this a lot, I guess.’

‘Every time I get the chance. My ex-wife wasn’t keen, so once the divorce was final, I suppose I got out there and made up for lost time.’

‘Wild oats in reverse.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Is that what split you up?’

‘No, no, God, no. There was much more to it than that. Divorce is very common in my line of work. But I’d prefer not to talk about that now, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh. OK. Do you want a drink?’

‘Maybe a glass of water.’

I staggered to the kitchen and admired the state of my arse in the shiny glass of the cooker door before making with the cups and taps. Wow. It looked angry. Dark, dark red, with a kind of self-stripe effect, slightly raised from the belt.

The sight of it turned me on again. I wondered if Stuart would be up for a bit more, perhaps minus the spanking this time, or I would be standing for the whole of the first week of term, and teaching was hard enough on the legs as it was.

‘Can you stay?’ I asked, handing him the glass.

He put an arm around me and pulled me close to him before replying.

‘I can’t, I’m afraid.’

It was a blow, I can’t deny. Between filling the glass and offering it to him, I had constructed a rosy fog of kinky romance around us, imagining that I would be spending the rest of the weekend tied to the bed with my legs spread-eagled.

But I didn’t know this man, when it came down to it, except at this peculiar and intense level of our mutual enjoyment of BDSM.

‘That’s a shame,’ I said tentatively. I wanted to ask why, but equally I didn’t want the answer.

‘Yes.’ He sipped. ‘It is.’

‘Maybe …’

‘There’s an awful lot I’d love to teach you, Cherry. But I just can’t. Because I won’t be here. My ship sails for the Persian Gulf tomorrow, you see.’

‘Oh! You’re a sailor.’

‘Yes. A medical officer.’

‘So is that why you split up?’

‘Yes, pretty much. I retire in two years as well.’ He shrugged.

‘Two years isn’t such a long time.’

‘I hope you’re not offering to wait for me, young lady. Because that wouldn’t be fair on you.’

He kissed my forehead.

‘Go out, find a good man with a good whip, and seize your fun while you’re young. Perhaps if you’re still single and still interested in two years’ time … but you won’t be.’

‘I might be.’

‘You won’t be.’

‘Well, if I am, I’ll be at that bar in Gunwharf Quays, two years from this date. Yes?’

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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