The picture that had been texted to me, which I’d deleted after getting wildly drunk that night, flickered to mind. Ruben on a red velvet sofa, a petite brunette sitting on his lap. He had one hand at her nape, tilting her head back, teeth in her throat, his other hand clenched mid-thigh on her leg. It was the woman’s expression that still haunted me the most. Half-lidded eyes, mouth open in ecstasy as she, obviously, was crying out in pleasure. The photograph seemed to capture the perfect prelude to a night of mind-blowing sex.
