Jan. Week 3: A Long Weekend-Movies...Leah insists on getting home (Lust:-5)

They sprawled out, a mess of limbs and sweat, words hanging in the air with nowhere to land. It was Daniel who broke the silence first, running a damp palm over his face, a crooked grin playing at the corner of his mouth.

“So, I guess you’re not staying for breakfast?”

Leah snorted, dragging herself upright with every muscle in her body howling protest. “I think I’ve had all the salt and butter I can take for one night, thank you.” She pointedly glanced at the slime trail glistening on her stomach and her pussy which would be leaking ever so slightly, then at the sticky towel half-heartedly tossed onto the carpet.

“Jesus, Daniel, you’re like a defective fire hydrant.”

He rolled onto his side and propped his head up, unabashedly watching as she started to collect her scattered clothes.

“You’re the one who keeps yanking my hose,” he shot back, voice thick with mock innocence. “Honestly, no one’s forcing you to drink from the tap.”

She flicked her bra at his face—a futile gesture, it barely made it past her own thigh.

“Crude, even by your standards. And that’s impressive.” She sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at her ruined panties and wondering if it was even worth the effort to put them back on.

Daniel caught the look and waggled his eyebrows, then shifted gears without warning. “Jonathan ever get suspicious when you come home late and…sweaty?” he asked, tone light but eyes too keen.

Leah flinched at her fiancé’s name, but tried to play it off with a groan. “He thinks I’m just hanging with girl friends or coming back from gym.”

Daniel’s laugh was sharp and mean—he liked the game, maybe too much.

“You’re terrible at lying sometimes,” he told her, “but you’re even worse at staying away.” He reached out and traced a lazy circle on her thigh. “What’s the cover story tonight?”

She considered, briefly, making up something elaborate. But the mental image of Jonathan’s sincere, painfully trusting face killed the impulse. “Probably just say I had to do something with a coworker—grabbing drinks,” she said, then snorted. “That’s not even a lie. Just, you know, a very creative interpretation.”

“Well that is one way to do it…” Daniel repeated, as if savoring the plural. “You’re not even going to pretend you were working alone?”

“Nah, probably not the best way to go” Leah replied, but her voice faltered at the end.

Daniel watched her get dressed, the way her hands trembled a little when she buttoned her blouse.

“You’re not going to ghost me, right?” he asked, softer now, insecurity bleeding through the bravado.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, and gave him a look that was part affection, part profound exasperation. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “If I wanted to ghost you, I’d do it the old fashioned way—by showing up in your kitchen at 3am and rattling your pans.”

He barked a laugh, that big, ugly sound she always tried to hate and never quite managed.

“You’re gonna text me when you get home?” he pressed. “Just so I know you didn’t drive into a ditch thinking about my cock.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but there was a flush in her cheeks that wasn’t from the sex.

“I’ll text you. Maybe I’ll even send a picture if you behave.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know,” he said, almost a whisper. Daniel’s smile softened, almost tender.

She didn’t answer. She just grabbed her keys, her purse, and her dignity (or what was left of it), and made for the door with as much swagger as she could muster.