He didn’t remember.
He didn’t freaking remember the series of deviant acts they had mutually participated in last night. The ‘hair job’ had been the first of many and Diana had woken slightly sore but very smug this morning. She had left him alone in his bed in the wee hours of the morning, not wanting to be subjected to the inevitable morning after regrets.
But this was worse than regrets. The most wonderfully sexually charged night of her life….. and the man didn’t even remember enough to have regrets! She didn’t know which urge she wanted to follow more; the urge to throat-punch him, or the urge to curl up and cry like a little baby.