He rolled off me, pulled up his jeans then fumbled for a cigarette.
“Music’s stopped,” he said.
I didn’t bother telling him I’d heard it stop while he was thrashing about on top of me. I could feel parts of my back starting to ache where I’d been hammered into the ground and it smelt like I was lying in a cowpat. The three-quarter moon hovering above us didn’t make it any more romantic. I lay still and squeezed my pelvic floor muscles tight.
He dragged on his cigarette and stared over at the barn. “It’s Sam’s 30th in three months. Thank God it’ll be in a more civilised place than this. You going?”
“Only if I need you.”
He looked down at me, frowning.
I smiled. “It’s all right. I told you no strings attached.” Just like the good old days in high school when he told me he respected me while screwing Samantha Biggs behind my back. Or at University when I’d finally opened my legs to him not knowing he was fucking every girl in his dorm.
His eyes narrowed. “If Amy finds out…”
“She won’t.” A car engine turned over. “They’re starting to leave. You’d better go before she misses you.”
He nodded and flicked his cigarette butt into the grass. “Later,” he said, standing up.
I lay where he left me, raised my knees and placed a hand on my belly. Another five minutes should do it.