I trailed my gaze down the hickeys on his back, to the matching deep purple bruises I’d sucked onto the curve of his ass in between rimming him as he prayed for mercy on the lid of my Steinway. I’d gotten carried away. I could’ve used the alcohol I’d barely drunk as an excuse, but the weak attempt at justification would’ve been transparent. Jasper’s body now reflected years of grief, of anger, resentment, betrayal, and love set free. I’d let it all go last night. I’d punished him for what the loss of him had done to me, and what not having him, even now as he slept peacefully in my bed, still
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