The pain in my body wasn’t just from the terrible hangover thumping through my skull like a stampede of raging rhinoceroses. It struck me as I realized that Cherry had left the country. Bright afternoon light stole through the crack in my bedroom curtains, and I knew it had to be noon; Bert had told me that Cherry was due to fly out the day after my ascension ceremony.
As the harsh reality dawned that it was that day, loss pealed through me anew. After Cherry had left yesterday, I’d drunk so much that I couldn’t recall anything much from the latter half of the day. Blurry pieces of Bert talking to me and helping me back here to mine last night surfaced in my sluggish thoughts.
My hangover continued to make itself known, twisting my stomach, making my chest and back tight, and even my legs seemed to ache. But none of these afflictions compared to the one constricting my chest. My wolf seemed to feel the growing distance between Cherry and me too. My beast’s instinct was to run as if it might still reach her, but a great ocean was opening up between us as she flew to Europe. Bert had informed me that she was living in Berlin. My wolf howled forlornly at the excruciating expanse opening up between my mate and me.
As I lay somewhere between consciousness and sleep, my thoughts slipped to picturing Cherry as she’d looked in my arms after I’d kissed her yesterday. And she’d kissed me back, I reminded myself. The thought was the only thing that seemed able to stave off the pain her rejection had caused me. I saw her silver eyes, molten with desire, her flushed cheeks, and her lips swollen from my kisses.
The memory was so vivid that as I slipped into sleep, I felt as if I could taste her lips again. I readily gave into the fantasy that must have arisen from my mind’s need for comfort. Gentle kisses teased at my mouth, and I answered them. She slipped her tongue into my mouth, and mine danced with hers. My arousal stirred, and Cherry ground down upon me. I thrust against her, thinking of her hot warmth sheathing me and feeling as if I might come already.
A voice purred in my ear, "I knew you’d remember how much you love waking up to me."
The tone jarred me because...it wasn’t Cherry’s. As I blinked my eyes open, I took in Lucy on top of me. Nothing but a transparent camisole clothed her, highlighting her hips, the flat plane of her stomach, and the swell of her full breasts. As she ground against me, nothing but my boxers rested between us, and my cock stirred against her.
In the aftermath of my hangover, I wanted to find a reprieve in the pleasure that her movement promised. But, even with the pounding in my head and the sickness in the pit of my stomach, thoughts of Cherry stopped me. A flash of her pale heart-shaped face, her soulful eyes, and her silken blonde hair skittered across my mind. I wanted to hold her, not Lucy.