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softening
cock.
    "Sadie..." His voice startled me in the quiet room,
and I opened my eyes again to see him looking at me. Leaning in, he kissed me,
lightly, then pulled away again. "Thank you," he said.
    "Oh," I told him. "Don't mention it. Any
time."
    He threw his head back and laughed at that before pulling me
close again and covering me in kisses, and I wrapped my arms tight around him
and reveled in it.
     
    *
     
    We were a mess, covered in red clay and sweat and pussy juice
and cum. Malcolm led me to the bathroom next to the studio room, and together
we took a long, luxurious shower. He soaped me up, his hands smoothing over my
skin as he gently cleaned me, and the water ran dark with clay as it sloughed
from our skin. His fingers found my sore pussy lips and soothed them gently,
stoking the fire inside me that burned for him until it was blazing once again.
    I couldn't get enough of him. I hungered, dark and deep, for him
to fill me up. I certainly didn't love him. I'd only known him for four days.
But I wanted to love him. I wanted to fall in love with him. I
hadn't fallen in love with anyone in years. And Malcolm... he was so promising.
I almost believed he might love me back.
    At the very least, however, he made my body sing, and I made him
laugh. It was enough for now. When at last he turned the water off, his cock
was hard as a diamond again, and he led me out of the bathroom, dried me in a
towel as though I were a child, then scooped me up and carried me into the
master bedroom. It was white walls and splashes of blue and dark wood floor,
but I really couldn't be bothered to note it all as he tossed me down onto the
down-filled comforter and slid my legs open, his eager mouth descending on my
quivering pussy until I begged him to fuck me, which he did. The chill of the
winter outside had crept in through the windows of the bedroom, and together we
snuggled down and screwed, our muffled moans a soft duet beneath the covers.
    I don't know how many times I came, or how many times he came,
only that eventually I fell asleep, cradled against him, my thighs slick with
our coupling. The last thing I thought of was how much I wanted to bang him on
the terrace outside of the living room, and then I passed out.
     
    *
     
    Sex is a powerful drug. I slept hard and soundly until the sky
was darkening with the coming evening, and when I awoke I found myself reaching
for my bedside table again. This time, however, I remembered where I was and
turned over.
    Malcolm was still wiped out. He slept like a baby, deep and
serene, and when I realized I was watching him sleep I had to shake myself out
of it. What was I, some mooning teenager? Slipping out of bed, I peeked in the
closet and found a huge fluffy white robe. Wrapping it around myself, I padded
back down the hallway to the main part of the house. I didn't look at our work
of art. I wanted to imagine it a little while longer.
    Stepping into the dining room, I winced as my stomach rumbled. I
hadn't had anything to eat in... forever, it seemed. I moved to the
refrigerator and opened it, but was disappointed to find only a few fine bottles
of white wine.
    Well , I thought, it's probably after five, right? I drew one out, located a corkscrew in the drawers, and opened it. The tang of
alcohol tickled my nose and made my mouth water. I smiled as I pulled down a
glass from one of the cabinets. I was pretty sure Europe was all about the
wine, so when in Dubrovnik, do as... well, whatever. I was going to be in big
trouble with just wine in my stomach, but I couldn't really bring myself to
care. I poured a glass and moved to the windows, staring out at the quiet city
and the iron-gray winter sea. I sipped wine, then gulped it. I've never been
known for my moderation. I poured another glass and started on that one.
    A ringing bell caught my attention. A phone.
    Frowning, I turned around, scanning the room before I spied a
pile of luggage—Jesus, was all that ours?—with Malcolm's