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The constant ring of her phone began again, just as they finished off each other. He fell beside the blonde, who had accompanied him to his room.
"You might want to pick up that," he told her, as he leisurely turned and made himself comfortable on his side. The woman sighed and his eyes trailed after her naked back as she picked up her phone from her bedside.
"Hey, honey?" her sickeningly loud voice greeted the speaker and he rolled his eyes, all the lust washing away at once. As he paid no mind to her, he turned and watched the moon, at its full glory. Nothing could define him better than the moon itself. Like the stars, he had women, all scattered around him, waiting to have his attention shine on them - yet he was still lonely.
Was it a bit too cliched that he found himself, though as young and as handsome as ever, getting tired of his routine? Or was it because of what his uncle, Novak had told him?
"Hey," the voice of her broke him away from his thoughts and his forest green eyes turned to look at her, as she ran her hands over his chest. "Want are your plans for tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes dropping to his lips as she bent down to place hers on it, but he stalled her from making any progress.
Even though she was well beyond her youthful summers, she still looked way too pretty for a forty-nine, soon to turn fifty, year old.
"What is it?" she asked, but he shrugged. He had been in this place many times before to know just how well it was to be get done and over.
"It's over," he said and though his hands were tempted to touch her breasts again, he knew he couldn't. This had to end and the sooner it was, the better it would be for him. His head was distracting him enough from keeping up with affair anyway.
She narrowed her eyes and sat back, away from him. The sheets fell away from her body, and he could feel desire soar through him but not enough to truly act upon it.
"And why, may I know?" she asked, her eyes seething in anger and he rolled his eyes.
He decided not to answer and rolled himself off the bed, in his entire naked glory, before he began to take steps away from the bed.
"I fucking asked you something," she growled and he felt her hand wrapped around his wrist. But that tone snapped something in him. Something, he knew was better kept in the dark. He whipped around so fast that she nearly fell down the bed.
He took hold of her hair and there was nothing erotic in that gesture, as lust evaporated and fear clawed her eyes. His other hand choked her by the throat, so harsh that he knew that there would be an imprint lingering on her skin.
"You do not talk to me like that," he muttered, his jaws locked and he knew that his eyes gave his craziness. He was a man on the hunt. She struggled against her hold, trying to breathe, but he only tightened. He only loosened it up when she started to lose colour from his face and nearly threw her on the other side, making her head hit the headboard.
