Revenge

bed a happy man.

CHAPTER THREE
Samantha Murphy, or Sam as she was known to everyone except her parents, was lying in bed thinking about the previous twenty-four hours. The terrible news had been followed by an uncontrollable desire to get smashed, which in turn had led to ending up in this bed. She’d had a blazing row with her Da when she announced she was going to go see her brother. He’d warned her to keep well away from him. She’d been around long enough to know her brother was now as popular as a pigeon crapping on your car. He’d gone out on a limb with that bloody Maguire and the boys would be after him. The Brits would make his life shit and his Da wasn’t willing to get off his arse to help his only son. To her way of thinking that meant she was all he had.
She turned to look at the man asleep beside her. She felt nothing for him, and was shocked not by that realisation but by the knowledge that it had been irrelevant to the enjoyment she’d had last night. She wasn’t the world’s most experienced lover but she’d sampled enough to know when it was good and it had been bloody good. Not least because unlike so many men she had known he wasn’t just focused on his own cock and actually cared about what she wanted. They had been at it for hours and when he finally let her sleep, she was exhausted but also completely satisfied in a way she had rarely experienced before. Perhaps the difference was he was just a little older and more a man than the usual boys she played with. Or perhaps it was the line of coke he’d taken in the bathroom when they arrived back at his house. She had declined his offer to share but only because she knew mixed with the drink, it would leave her feeling completely wasted the next day and she didn’t want that.
She certainly didn't make a habit of picking up strangers and screwing the hell out of them but she might rethink her ideas in future. The large bed and empty house helped. At home you too often spent most of your time being a contortionist in the back of cars. Either that or you snatched a quickie while everyone was out the house, hoping your Ma or Da wouldn't return early.
It confirmed again she was going to have to get a place of her own. Twenty five was too old to still be living with your parents. Problem was, it was all very well behaving like this so far from home but back in Belfast she'd soon get a name as a slut. Everyone knew everybody and in particular most people knew her Da. He wasn’t what she would call a modern thinking father. He was a hard man to please. She didn’t doubt he loved her but he still often treated her like a child and boyfriends were never taken home. It would be all right if it was someone her Da approved of but it was her view that anyone he approved of, she wouldn’t want to go out with.
She definitely didn’t share her parents definition of what made a good catholic girl! She wondered what Father Thomas would say next time she went to confession. She enjoyed shocking the good Father and even an edited description of this was definitely a ten on the Richter scale for shocks.
She glanced at the bedside clock. It was early but time to be going. She gently extricated herself from under his arm and slid from beneath the sheet.
“Where're you going?” the man asked sleepily.
She leaned back and kissed him surprisingly tenderly on his forehead. "Go back to sleep. I have a plane to catch.”
He turned on his side and pulled the blankets up around him. She kissed him again on the cheek before quietly making her way out of the bedroom, her bare feet sinking deeply into the luxuriously thick, soft pile of the carpet. For once he hadn’t just been another bloke trying to impress her with a load of bullshit and really must have had his own IT business to support such a great house. Another time and she would have given him her number and hoped to see him again. He was even decent looking! He was definitely boyfriend material but right now she didn’t have time in her life for a boyfriend. Anyway, she knew where he lived and liked to drink. She could always find him.
She went downstairs to the lounge and picked up some of her clothes from the floor, which earlier had been discarded in frenetic haste to get naked. She knew she wasn’t stunning looking but she had a very fit body and with the help of makeup an acceptably attractive, if slightly plain face. Her best feature was the long legs she had inherited from her Mother.
From a young age she had been the school and district cross country running champion. She didn’t run competitively anymore but was a regular jogger and hours at the gym ensured she had a flat stomach and toned muscles. Anyway, as far as she could remember the bloke was so plastered he’d have shagged anything half decent.
It had been a right crack. He had money to buy champagne and even if he was showing off, Sam hadn’t cared. He wanted her and she needed somewhere to spend the night. She stood for a moment remembering how good his body had felt. How masculine and strong, and for a second considered going back to bed but her head was thumping, her mouth dry as the Gobi desert and she did have a plane to catch.
She laughed when she realized she couldn’t even remember the bloke upstairs’ bloody name. She noticed his jacket on the floor. She checked the inside pocket and found his wallet. She helped herself to his