He buried himself back inside me, slamming his pelvis against me. I pulled at the restraints until they dug into my skin; he grabbed a handful of hair...and held my head down as he savagely pounded into me. I closed my eyes as I tried to be anywhere but right there. I had once imagined a bed with rose petals and something more loving and gentle with someone I was madly in love with, and to lose it like this, I felt hollowed out, empty as he used my body to find his own release. I listened to his. And I was definitely on for getting laid, which I’d like to think was thanks to my being a flirting queen. Either that or he’d read the slogan on my t-shirt. I bought it when I skydived for charity. ‘Fancy a Jump?’ it read, and he took it literally. Back at my place, I went through the usual charade of making coffee, up to the point where I asked whether he took sugar – oh no, what other things about him have I erased from my memory! – when he cut to the chase. Him: Let’s go to bed. Me: Who. More

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