3. Sunday

We didn't sleepat all. Not even a little bit. I've never had so much sex in my entire life. We fucked each other with that strap-on, and without, for the rest of the night and well into the morning. I even used it on her in the shower, from behind, with the water rushing over us. Every time I turned around, she was asking for more from me. My fingers in her from behind on the bed, my other hand working her clit. From the edge of the bed with me wearing the strap and her sitting on the dildo. Boring old missionary style, which wasn't boring at all when it meant me rubbing her clit until she came and came and came. Her up against the wall, me on my knees, her leg up over my shoulder, my face buried in her wetness. Her face in my wetness on the bed, on the floor, on the chair by the window. When I asked how she was still standing, she told me she was afraid it was never going to happen again with me, so she didn't want to stop.

And that broke my fucking heart.

Around eight in the morning, I start gathering my clothing so I can get myself ready to leave. She hasn't asked me to stay. I'm not surprised by that. This was a job, after all, even if this part, in particular, wasn't part of the contract. Honestly, if she asked me to stay, I don't know what I'd say. Would I love to stay with her and keep going? Yes. Obviously. But something deep inside me, in the bottom of my stomach, has sparked a nervous flame. Staying would mean getting to know her more and her getting to know me more… And would that mean this would be the actual start of something? How am I supposed to handle that? The start of something with Alison Grace? Come on. Be serious, Roberta.

As I'm buttoning my pants, she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around me. "Can I see you again?"

I turn in her arms. "You sure you're not just saying that?"

Her facial expression shifts, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm positive I'm not just saying that."

The deep breath I take isn't because I don't believe her. It's because I don't trust myself. I don't know how to do anything casually when it comes to my heart. It's part of why I've just sworn off sex in the past. It's easier to keep myself guarded when I don't get involved with anyone. "Truthfully, I'd be devastated if you didn't want to see me again. I'd understand, of course, but I think it'd kind of wreck me." The honesty I'm hitting her with isn't unlike me. I don't sugarcoat anything, but I really don't when it comes to a relationship. I'm too old and too tired to waste time lying.

"I don't want to wreck you." Her feather-soft voice brings chills to my arms. I kiss her, her lips that are so delicious, that feel almost as if they belong to me now. After last night's marathon sex, mine certainly feel like they belong to her. When she pulls away from me, she says softly, "I start recording my next album in two weeks in the city. Maybe we can meet up."

"You bringing that?" I nod toward the harness and dildo that are still lying on the bed where I finally discarded them.

"I might," she whispers. "Although I think I might be more partial to you fucking me with your mouth and fingers."

"Jesus."

She pushes her hand against my stomach, unbuttons my pants. She slides her fingers under the waistband of my pants, my panties, dips them into my already wet center, and finds my clit. I'm so sore, but dammit, if she doesn't feel fabulous. "One last time before you leave me?" She bites down on my lip before she lightly starts rubbing. I'm already close. Goddamn, she's good. She dips her fingers back inside of me, two at a time, then goes back to my clit, and that's it. My orgasm explodes. I lean my head back as I come and hold on to her for support. She bites my neck, then kisses the spot.

"Well, damn," I say with a laugh. "A full night of getting to know me. How do you feel?"

"Pretty impressed with myself."

"Literally same."

When she pulls her hand from my pants, she puts her fingers in her mouth, sucks my wetness from them, and I simply cannot help myself. I pick her up and carry her back to the very messy bed and lay her out in front of me.

"My turn," I say as I pull her robe up and put my mouth on her. Her hands are in my hair, her moans are spurring me on, her whispering my name over and over again has me wanting to never fuck another person ever again. All I want is her and her alone. Her clit is so hard. She's close. I can tell by how she's pushing herself into me. I get my fingers inside of her, curl them to hit her G-spot. She gasps, lifts her hips from the bed, and that's when I know I've got her. Her muscles tighten around my fingers before she starts to shake.

"Roberta, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck," she says over and over again before she finally relaxes. Her hips return to the bed, and she lifts her head. "What the hell?"

"What?" I ask, a wide, wet smile on my face. She props herself up with her elbows. I'll never forget this sight. Her floral silk robe, sash still tied, her breasts popping out of the opening at the top, her legs spread wide, her wetness glistening in the morning light. I could fall in love with this woman. And that is maybe the most fucked-up thing I've ever thought in my entire life. "Alison?"

"You…" Her whisper is almost inaudible, and her eyes have filled with tears.

I move up to her face, hands on either side of her arms. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." She places her hands on my face. "Don't forget about me."

"I won't be thinking about anything else, I can assure you."

* * *

My staff is waiting for me in the kitchen. I took my time getting cleaned up, not really thinking they were being held up by me, but their tired and irritated faces remind me.

"I'm so sorry," I say, my bag slung over my shoulder. "I was having a hard time getting myself together today."

"Is that the story you're going with?" Nick asks, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. "Because I think we're allowed to talk among ourselves, y'know, if you needed to tell us anything important."

My face is hot. I'm blushing. Shit. "I think I'll stick with my story." I shrug. "Just tired, y'know?"

"Sure," they all say in unison.

I roll my eyes. "Come on. The helicopter is waiting for us." I hear them all snickering behind me as we head out the side entrance of the house to Alison's private helicopter pad.

The pilot is standing outside, hands on his hips, a smile on his face. "Howdy, travelers. How are y'all doing this beautiful Sunday?"

"We're hanging in there," I answer for the group.

"Roberta is doing better than the rest of us."

I shoot Lucy a look. She's pale as a ghost. "Hungover?" I ask and she nods. "This ought to be a fun ride then."

The pilot laughs. "I'll handle everyone with kid gloves. No worries. Let's load up these bags."

"Are you gonna be okay?" I put my hand on Lucy's shoulder. "We can get a bag just in case you want to throw up."

"I've thrown up everything in my body." She shudders. "Those fucking Panty Ripper shots did me in."

"And the Pink Tacos," Nick adds with a laugh. "Lucy drank like her life depended on it."

"Whatever. I got to make out with Cherry Ward. It was all worth it." Lucy shrugs, but even that simple movement seems tough for her to manage.

"I can't believe you didn't sleep with her." Natasha lets out a groan. "What a missed opportunity."

"How do you know I didn't?" Lucy grins, and we all gasp.

"You skeez." Julie laughs as she boards the helicopter. "You all are. Including you, Roberta."

I shake my head as I sit next to her and buckle my seat belt. "You have no idea, my friend. No. Fucking. Idea." I lean my head back against the seat and take a deep, cleansing breath. All I can feel is the seam of my jeans rubbing against my very sore crotch. All I can taste is Alison, her wetness, her saliva, her everything. All I can hear is her screaming my name. All I can see is her beautiful smile. All I can think is that I just had one of the best nights of my life.

And I can't tell a soul about it.

But like Lucy said, it's worth it. Alison is worth it.

I hope she feels the same way.