Page 54 of Screens Apart

“Hey! I just worked very hard, thank you. I’ve earned a day of ordering you around like the Queen of Sheba.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, a little smile curling over my lips.

“And I promise to make it worth your while,” Taylor said, giving me a lascivious grin before tilting his chin to demand a kiss. “After all we don’t have to worry about Steve interrupting us anymore. I’m going to fuck you in every room of this flat. Many, many times.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Good.” He pulled a face and grimaced. “But first, I need a shower. I’m leaking.”

I snorted. “Thanks for the visual.”

“It’s sexy though, being filled with your cum. I can see why you like it.” He kissed me again. “Want to join me for a shower? I think this one might actually fit the two of us, well just about anyway. You can help me get all clean.”

“Before we get dirty again?”

“Exactly.”

“Or,” I said, looking around the room, “if you let me dive through quickly, I’ll make the bed while you clean up so we actually have sheets to sleep on.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but I accept your terms. There’s a washbag in my suitcase.” He waved a hand in the direction of his bag. “I don’t know where the towels are though.”

“I think I do.” I went to move, but Taylor held me tight, keeping me in place.

“I love you,” he said. “I hope you know that. I love you more than anything in the world. In the entire fucking universe. Happy anniversary.”

“I love you too.” I kissed him gently. “I can’t believe I’ve put up with you for a whole year.”

“Oi! I’m fucking adorable.”

“Yeah, you are. And I love you so fucking much. I’m so lucky.”

“Not as lucky as I am,” Taylor said.

We kissed for a little while before I eventually extracted myself from his grip to go and shower. It took me a while to figure out the new controls, but I was pleasantly surprised by how good the water pressure was. It was definitely better than the shower in the old flat.

When I got back to the bedroom, Taylor was lying on his stomach, his perfect ass on display as he thumbed through his phone.

“Anything interesting?” I asked, grabbing my joggers from earlier in case I had to wander around the flat to find the box of sheets. I couldn’t remember if the curtains in the living room were closed, and I didn’t want to show the whole of Parson’s Green my junk.

“Not really.” Taylor rolled onto his back, eyes raking over me. “I posted those photos on the blog and then got a message from Connor wishing us a happy anniversary. He and Patrick are looking forward to coming to see us in a couple of weeks. They booked an Airbnb.”

“I’m glad they got it figured out. They’re cute together.” I shifted a couple of boxes, reading the labels scrawled on the top of them. “How did the photos go down?”

“Well, you have over a hundred notes in like, five minutes, so, I’d say good.” Taylor smirked and stretched lazily, momentarily distracting me. Then he climbed off the bed and sauntered towards me. “They’re all jealous because you’re all mine.”

I bent down and kissed him. “All yours.”

Two weeks later, I stumbled into the flat, soaked to the skin from my walk home in the freezing rain and gale force winds that were the UK in late November. Trust my umbrella to break on the one day I actually needed it. Not that it would have been much use in the wind.

The flat was warm, and the lamps were on, which was odd because I’d thought Taylor was supposed to be in his office this afternoon. His new job had taken off over the past year, and the company he and Aiden had founded had become a roaring success. Taylor spent most of his days in their small office, but he occasionally worked from home, spreading himself over the dining room table and leaving a trail of dirty mugs and biscuit crumbs in his wake.

“Babe? You home?” I called as I dumped my bag and hung my sodden coat on the little row of pegs I’d put up. I turned into our bedroom, pulling off my jumper as I moved. I was wet through and everything seemed to be sticking to me.

I dumped my jumper and began unbuttoning my shirt when I noticed a large, glossy black box in the middle of our bed. I frowned. I hadn’t ordered anything like that. And all Taylor’s Christmas presents were being sent to my office so he didn’t accidentally open them.

There was a little pink card tucked neatly into a slot on the lid with pretty, curled lettering on it in handwriting I didn’t recognise. It just said:Open Me.

Was it for me? Was I supposed to open it?

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