He leans down to brace his elbows on either side of me, shoulders flexing with every muscle God has ever created.
His pale green eyes don’t leave mine. This is another world for me, a million times better than every sexual interaction with my ex combined into one. I feel guilty even remembering Stephen at a time like this, but who knew intimacy could be thisintense?
His hand reaches out to grip the back of my neck as his hip thrusts grow stronger and steadily faster. He’s so deep inside me. I roll my head to the side, trying to ground myself in the moment but feeling overwhelmed with so many sensations. My fingers scratch over his shoulders.
His lips find the curve of my neck, sucking and kissing over my heated skin.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Fuck, you are so hot.” He pants into my ear, moaning as he speeds up. “You feel fucking amazing, Cabernet.”
His breathy deep voice is making me feel like my entire body is on fire. His fingers dig into my hair, gripping my roots and pulling my head back so he can gain better access to my neck.
I let out a cry as my world shatters again right as his hips connect with mine for the last time, pressing into me like this contact is his lifeline. The high we have reached takes several long seconds to come down from.
I finally open my eyes again. He’s still on top of me, and I love the feeling of his weight over me.
Beads of sweat have formed on his skin, and I suddenly feel a tinge of guilt that he literally did all the work while I laid here like a starfish. I want to start back over and rub his legs while he lies on the bed like a spoiled brat.
His forehead is pressed to the space between my neck and shoulder, right above my collarbone as his breath comes in little bursts. With the immaculate shape he’s in, you’d think thiswouldn’t have winded him. I feel another tinge of excitement that he put in so much effort for me.
His ebony waves look so soft, and I reach a hand up to run my fingers over his scalp. He relaxes into me at the contact as I massage his head.
My other hand trails over to his muscular shoulder, and I notice a tattoo of an eagle gripping a trident, an anchor, and a shotgun in its talons.
How oddly specific.
It looks military, and because of the anchor, my mind thinks it must have to do with the Navy. I wonder if it was for him or someone he knew. I wouldn’t have guessed he was a military man with his suave, effortless persona. Enlisted men usually stand out to me with their poised posture. They almost always have a rigidness about them that I don’t sense with him.
His head lifts up, and he doesn’t look into my eyes as he withdraws himself from me and walks into the bathroom.
My body is heavy and relaxed from the physical release of endorphins, but I need to get up and pee.
Should I go home?
The alcohol’s effects are still swirling in my head, and I really just want to crash.
Maybe he has a guest room I can sleep in . . .
This is new territory for me. Do you get to stay over if the hook-up is in a penthouse? Mel seems to have varying methods of post-hook-up protocol. I know she stays if she’s too drunk, but when she’s sober, she leaves. I’m somewhere in between, but I feel a strange pull to want to be near him.
That’s concerning . . .veryconcerning.
He walks back out in a pair of grey sweats hung low on his hips, and the V shape I noticed during intercourse seems to draw my eyes disrespectfully low. He tosses a T-shirt and boxers on the bed.
“You should sleep.”
He stands for a moment, observing me. I feel self-conscious now that it’s over and he’s clothed. I cross my arms over my stomach as I grab the clothes, slide off the bed, and continue to the bathroom.
After peeing, I feel guilty as I sneak through his drawers for toothpaste. There’s more storage in his bathroom than what’s in my entire apartment. I finally find the tube and rub a dab across my teeth with my finger, rinsing my mouth with water. The shirt he gave me has the same symbol as his tattoo, and now, I’m even more curious about the origin. It’s one of those worn grey fabrics that feels better than silk on my skin. The boxers are huge, but I double-roll the waistband. I wash the makeup from my face with a sliver of soap from the shower before slowly inching back out into the bedroom.
I’m surprised to find him sprawled out on the bed. With his muscled arm curled up under his head and his shirtless torso on display, he could be on the front cover of Men’s Health. His black hair is tousled to perfection, lips looking very kissable as he flips through movies on the enormous flat screen I didn’t notice before...because it seems to have appeared from nowhere. It’s the only light in the room now.
It suddenly dawns on me that we never even kissed, and I very much wish we had...or will.
He turns to look at me standing on the threshold like a weirdo.
I walk toward him, and his eyes follow me.
“You look at me a lot,” I say.
