Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133034 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
I put the remote down, giving up the fight.
“It’s just hard, isn’t it? There’s so much I’d like to say to him, if I could.”
“Hey, hey.” He squeezes my knee. “There is so much you will say, when we see him again. When. Not if. When.”
I love Josh’s optimism so much. I adore his faith, and his resolve and his kindness. His beauty, his strength, his loyalty.
Just a shame there’s someone else whose qualities I’m missing, too.
Badly.
And I know Josh misses Heath as much as I do, despite his resolute smile. I know the pain is eating into his heart, even though we’re on cloud nine.
“We will see him again,” Josh reiterates, his voice strong and firm. “It’s not just us who’ll be feeling it. Love flows both ways. Heath will be missing us, too.”
Oh, to hear it like that…
Love flows both ways.
Love.
Yes, it does.
I felt it in Cannes, and I feel it across the ether. Heath Mason, loving us the way we love him. That won’t change. It was too deep, too strong, too powerful.
Fuck it, why try to hide from the inevitable? The world will be screaming Heath Mason at the top of its lungs with the new season of NW looming so close. Time to suck it up and be a tough little cookie, like Josh believes I can be.
I click back to the TV home screen. Time to watch the trailer for Nighttime Whispers, season 7.
Even a glimpse of Heath is better than nothing.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Being holed up in Belgravia couldn’t be more of a contrast to being holed up in a random Airbnb, wondering if I’d ever have my life back. I appreciate every second that Josh and I get to laugh and chill together.
The marks from the needle ladders heal up quickly, but my pussy takes a little while longer. As for my tits, that’s a whole other story. They are black and blue for weeks, but that’s cool. I love the mottled shades on my skin and so does Josh.
I always adore Josh’s insanely hot laddered dick, but as he takes me slowly and deep in the aftermath of the torture, it’s like I’ve truly come home. Come home to us again.
I can’t get enough of him.
I value every inch of his amazing cock, and every one of his filthy quirks. We take lemonade showers together, where we kiss and caress and revel in delight like the filthy souls we are, piss soaked and desperate. He pounds my ass like it was made for his dick, driving me crazy and begging for more, more, more.
But it’s not just that.
I value every one of his kisses, whether they are deep, passionate tangles of tongues, or a simple little kiss on the head as he’s passing the sofa.
I value the way he makes toast, just the way I like it. I value his gorgeous laugh, and the way he clutches his side when we’re in the throes of the giggles.
I value our eccentric belongings. Our shared space. I value the way he gets sucked into sci-fi storylines and creases his brows while he’s reading.
I even value our shared workouts in the gym space, no matter if I’m wincing as I do a Pilates stretch while my healing pussy squeals in protest.
Belgravia life is truly fantastic.
Tiff comes over to visit more frequently from her apartment downstairs, cackling along with us carefree, like the exile never happened. As the weeks go on, I venture outside again, bolder and bolder. My heels get higher, and my makeup gets more dramatic, my strides more confident as I realise I’m not going to get burnt at the stake whenever someone makes eye contact. I don’t have Connor’s hooker ex tattooed on my forehead.
Life is great doesn’t cut it for how I’m feeling. For real. Life is absolutely, unbelievably AMAZING.
There is only one thing missing.
I keep pushing it from my mind whenever the pang hits my stomach, because there’s no point in dwelling in the pain when you’re powerless. I know that now.
Things heal, things pass, and life changes. Some of those changes can be mega curveballs, too.
I just hope there’s a curveball coming our way when it comes to Heath Mason.
I’d like to say I don’t want to catch glimpses of Nighttime Whispers news, and shots of Heath in character as the Count, but that’s bullshit. My feed is littered with snippets, and videos of him backstage, and I crave every single sight of him. But what is appearing on my feed even more often is the car crash of Connor’s career over in the US. One in a thousand, was the song he wrote about ‘me’, and so much for his fucking mega hit now. It’s old news.
I really am one in a thousand now.
One in a thousand of the people getting gossiped about for having anything to do with him. I laugh to myself sometimes as I remember his lying ass lyrics.