Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

reason you're sleeping in here? There is a huge bed in the master quarters," he asked. I opened my heavy eyelids to his silhouette in the doorway.
    I sighed and rolled over, "Sleepy."
    "Fine." I heard him close the door but he was still in the room. I cringed as he unzipped. I tucked my arm under the pillow and turned my mind off. I refused to let his warm body next to mine be anything beyond a reminder of my predicament, which there was nothing I could do about. I was his, for the time being.
    The next morning he was on the far side of the bed, as far as he could get from me. I shivered and rolled towards him.
    I could let him be a body pillow. He was roasting with intense body heat. I wrapped my freezing feet around his calf making him jump.
    “What are you doing?” he shouted.
    I shivered, “It’s cold in here.”
    He gave me an odd look and then put his arm out for me. He wrapped around me, when I laid on it.
    Instantly, his hand took mine and placed it on his huge erection. I sighed, “No,” and pulled it back.
    “What?”
    I shook my head, “I need to eat. I’m starved.”
    He pulled my hand back and began stroking himself with my palm.
    I gave him an unimpressed look, earning me a grin. I hadn’t been expecting it. I snorted, “You’re cheerful in the morning.”
    His eyes were filled with green flecks, “You are having a strange effect on me, Evie.”
    “Ditto,” I said and wrapped my hand around his rigid, morning wood and squeezed.

Chapter Nine - A silver locket in my pocket

    I rolled over and cuddled into him, pulling the covers up and smothering him with my body. I felt his body go rigid; even in his sleep he disliked intimacy.
    It made me smile inside. He wasn’t comfortable with anything but fucking and working, and of course, talking about things that made me uncomfortable.
    I still didn’t understand why he had chosen to sleep in the small bed with me for the past few nights. I thought about that more than my own escape or why he had tried to set me up, for killing the fat man.
    We had grown closer and closer, my cabin fever lessening with every moment. Three days of the spa-like bathroom, any meal I craved, and ridiculous amounts of sex had changed me.
    I felt like something inside of me was waking up. Like the hibernation of marriage was finally starting to end and the fun, sassy girl I had once been, was emerging from her cave. It had to be the result of multiple orgasms a day.
    Of course I had tried to fight it. I drugged the shit out of him with the belladonna. Apparently, his reaction to it wasn’t the intended one. He got relaxed and wanted slow, intense sex. I had come to the conclusion, he was a magician with his tongue. I blushed just watching him sleeping, forcing myself not to want to like him, let alone desire him, as much as I did.
    He stirred and woke, giving me a look, “You’re like a cat. Do you have to touch me while you sleep? I’m sweating from it.”
    I nodded, “You’re warm and Steve has the damned air conditioning on so high, I can see my breath in here.”
    He rolled his eyes and sat up, sort of pushing me off of him.
    I liked watching him squirm.
    He pulled his computer up onto his lap, “Is breakfast here?”
    I shook my head, “I don’t know. I haven’t left the room.”
    He cocked an eyebrow, “Well, you can’t spoon me all night long like a girlfriend and then not act like one in the morning. Go see.”
    I shook my head, “This is my first vacation in forever, fake or not—I intend on enjoying it. You go get me breakfast. You want to fuck me as much as you possibly can, then you’ll have to start acting like a boyfriend. I want spooning and breakfast in bed. Later, you may read to me,” I chuckled.
    He growled and I rolled on top of him some more.
    "I'm trying to type," he said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone.
    I nestled in closer and moaned.
    I was getting good at ignoring the sad fact, I had a life that was in chaos outside of the hotel room. Denial was an easier emotion than guilt, or fear, or anything I didn’t want to deal with.
    I disregarded the fact his body had been doing bad things to mine since we met, and embraced that I had yet to not enjoy one of them.
    Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
    The day before, he had demanded a blowjob. I had tried telling him I was shit at them, and besides that, we were in the shower. All those jets and showerheads had nearly drowned me, when he grabbed my hair and pushed my