“Yes, Marissa, give it to me, that’s it,” Hawk pleads with me.
His lips have parted, and his lids are heavy.
“He’s barely hanging on,” I think, and the heady pride makes me tighten hard around him.
He tells me how wet I am, how tight, how perfect, how beautiful I look riding him.
Finally, he sinks his teeth into the flesh of my breast, and the thought that it might leave a mark excites me more than I know what to do with. I want him to bite even harder.
“Oh God, that’s so good,” I whimper as I press my face to his, closing my eyes as I pulse and pulse and pulse.
“Please, Marissa, look at me,” Hawk gasps as thick spurts of his semen fill me.
The hot, tickling sensation it causes inside me almost makes me cum again.
The intensity of my orgasm, combined with the aftershocks of his, knocks something in my chest loose. It is cathartic and wonderful, even though I struggle to catch my breath.
Luckily, Hawk seems to get it, and he keeps me in a tight bear hug and patiently strokes my back until the sensation dies down and everything in me relaxes.
“Everything okay?” He asks between soft little hair-kisses.
I nod. “But I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Hold on,” he says, then reaches for a shirt that’s on his bed and folds it before gently pressing it between my legs.
I shoot him a grateful smile before waddling off to the bathroom while holding it in place.
“I’ll shower in your bathroom, but we’ll sleep in here, okay?” Hawk calls out to me after a while.
My heart flutters. “Okay!”
Hawk’s sober board reads 2442. I look at myself in the mirror. My face is flushed, my eyes impossibly big, my hair a mess. And even though my lips and the skin around them are irritated, I look beautiful. And alive.
*
“Good morning,” I croak out.
Hawk looks up from his newspaper and dazzles me with his smile. It should be illegal to look this good in the morning.
“Morning,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did,” I say while stretching under the covers.
Hawk gestures towards my nightstand. “I brought you your coffee.”
“Thank you,” I say, and we relax into being a couple in bed on a Sunday morning.
Hawk puts his head in my lap, and I absentmindedly caress him while I drink my coffee. He closes his eyes and almost purrs.
“I should go make breakfast, but I can’t bring myself to leave. You in my bed,” he says, then sighs, “nothing beats that. I can’t wait to wake up with you like this for the rest of our lives.”
My hand stills. Hawk opens his eyes and gives me a big grin.
“I also can’t wait to show you that I can last longer than eight minutes.”
I snicker. “It was a great eight minutes. My thighs are sore as is. Any longer and I would’ve fallen off.” Hawk’s belly laugh makes me want to keep going. “I need to do more squats.”
I’m in the middle of my shower concert, advising people to run to the hills, courtesy of Shroomie’s party playlist, when my phone rings. I let it. I’ll call back when I’m done. Only, it rings again, somehow more shrill and persistent this time.
