“Garrik, stay a while longer,” I plead. “We don’t have to?—”
“You’re drunk, Iris,” he mumbles, words a little slurred. “I’mdrunk.”
“But you could—oh no?—”
My keys slip from my clumsy fingers, falling to the landing at the hardwood landing at the top of the stairs. Garrik bends to pick them up, and just at the same time, I sway forward—catch him by the shoulders as he rises again.
And I don’t think, because I’m clearly not in a thinking mood.
I just kiss him.
And oh no, oh no?—
It’s so good.
Garrik makes this sound between a gasp and a low groan, like he’s just been hit by a flying meteor and it delivered him all the way to pound town. His whole body locks up, shoulders tensing beneath my hands, the keys falling to the porch again. He’s hunched over awkwardly, but I really don’t think he minds.
I sigh against his mouth, soft and happy, pressing closer, tilting my head. He’s hesitant, like he’s going to break me if he moves too fast, so my drunk self takes charge and I open my mouth, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his overgrown, dark green curls. The invitation works, and Garrik’s big tongue thrusts past my lips.
Oh…oh it feelsreally good.
But we’re still in this weird position on the stairs, and Garrik is leaning over and we’re both drunk, which seems like a recipe for disaster. I try to pull him forward—which works about as well as if I tried hauling an elephant to my front door—only for Garrik to stand and lift me again, effortless. This time, I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, and I feel…
He’shuge.
Like—the size of my forearm, maybe bigger.
I want it inside me. I want it inside me because I might be a little bit crazy.
He carries me forward, and we both laugh as he stumbles a little. The laughter dies fast enough, because that stumble ends with him pushing me against the door, and then I really feel it—his huge cock, big enough that I could practically perch on it like a bird. I rock my hips instinctively and Garrik groans, kissing me harder than ever.
I slide my hands into his hair, tugging on his curls. Garrik thrusts his hips forward. I cry out, tear my mouth away from his as he braces one hand against the doorframe and wraps the other around my ass to hold me up and?—
CRACK.
We both freeze.
For a second, we’re both completely still. My heart is thundering in my chest, my pulse hammering in my ears, and I’m pretty sure I just hallucinated that. That sound. Thatvery loud, very distinctsound.
Then, slowly—so slowly I can feel every muscle in his body lock up—Garrik leans back just enough to look past me.
I follow his gaze.
The doorframe…well, needless to say, I’m not getting my deposit back.
The top corner of it—where Garrik braced his hand—has a crack running straight through it, splintering the wood all the way down to where his palm is still planted, fingers frozen mid-clutch. Like he had been tryingvery hardto keep himself steady, and instead, he just…snapped a whole chunk of my apartment’s structural integrity in half.
Garrik makes a noise deep in his chest, something caught between a groan and a panicked whimper. His antennae, which had been dark pink from the drinking and the kissing and the me absolutely grinding on him like a lunatic, gobright red.
“Oh,” I say.
Garrik doesn’t move.
I blink. “Did you just?—”
“I have to go,” he blurts out.
“What? No, wait?—”
