30. Chapter 30 – Sloane
Chapter 30 – Sloane
“W here am I?” I croaked, holding my head to keep it from exploding as I tried to slide off the bed.
Tamen groaned somewhere from his side of the bed, but it sounded weird, so I forced my eyes to crack open enough to look at him. Only, he wasn’t there. One foot was on the bed, but the rest of him was missing.
Slithering like a pathetic newborn reptile on ice, I made my way to his side of the bed and peeked over the edge. If it didn’t feel like my head was going to explode into a red mist, I probably would have laughed at what I found.
Tamen laid in a heap, naked as a jaybird tangled up in the sheet, using an empty bottle of champagne as a pillow.
“Good god, I’m still drunk.” I grunted, flopping back down onto the bed, daring to look at the windows to see if there was any sunlight coming through the cracks, but the curtains were shut so well I couldn’t tell. “What time is it?”
“What country am I in?” Tamen shot back in a cranky voice, “What day is it?”
“Fuck all if I know.” I laid there as shuffling came from the ground, a moment later, one very disheveled Tamen threw himself up onto the bed, landing next to me as he swallowed me up with his thick arms and the sheet, cocooning us both back into comfort. “What the hell happened?”
“You got me drunk.” He whined into my neck, but I could feel the ghost of a smile on his whiskered face. “I think. It gets kind of—blank after dinner.”
“Dinner—” I tried to think back to what we were doing last night and remembered the way he bent me over in the living room and ate me out before putting my plug in. “Oooh, dinner.” I giggled, getting flashbacks of the indecent things we did to each other at dinner.
He snorted and tightened his hands around my waist, pulling me in tighter to his body. Dragging my nails over the back of his hand, something snagged against the sheet, creating a foreign feeling on my skin, so I pulled the fabric aside and lifted my hand to investigate.
I stared at the foreign object for a heartbeat, and then two, by the fourth or fifth panic was building in my chest as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. “Tamen.” I croaked, and cleared my throat when he hummed in response, but didn’t pay any attention. “Tamen!”
“What?” He leaned over my shoulder to look at me as I held my hand out in front of his face.
“What the fuck is that!” I cried, desperately trying to remember what exactly happened after dinner last night.
“Oh, bloody hell.” Tamen groaned, taking my hand in his and holding it still where it had been shaking from fear. “I thought the Elvis man at the wedding chapel was just a dream.”
My lips parted in exasperation as I stared at him over my shoulder before glancing back at the offensive item on my hand.
Or rather, my finger.
My ring finger.
On my left hand.