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For someone who never drank, four was pushing it. We’d lucked out that she’d passed out before she could get sick. It had been close when she started getting hot.
And while, yeah, I probably should have encouraged her to ration more, I had to admit that I’d enjoyed the fuck out of seeing her with her inhibitions lowered.
She’d been cute as fuck. Almost an animated version of herself. All bubbly and full of frenetic energy, bouncing around from person to person, telling them how pretty or handsome or interesting they were.
Hell, the woman had sat down to have a ‘serious heart-to-heart’ with the macaw, Mackie, about ‘letting go’ of his anger toward the Benny guy he was constantly cussing out.
And, yeah, it had been hot how openly she’d expressed her interest in me when she wasn’t so debilitated with her usual insecurities and anxieties that prevented her from easily expressing what she felt and thought.
As hot as she’d been, though, drunk was a no-no when it came to sweaty, naked times. Even if she wasn’t a stranger. Even if I was seeing her.
Maybe it would have been a little different if we’d been together for longer. Or if it wasn’t her first time being that drunk.
But I had to draw and then toe that line.
Even when she, in a short moment of wakefulness in the middle of the night, managed to reach back and remove her bra, then fall asleep flat on her back, tits out.
I damn near had to take myself to the couch.
But toughing it out and getting to watch her morning face after her first drunken party had been worth it.
Pillow-creased skin, wild hair, bleary eyes.
Still the fucking prettiest thing I’d ever seen.
The door opened, and she walked out, still brushing her teeth, brows scrunched.
“You alright?” I asked, head tipped to the side, figuring she was trying to piece the whole night together after some sobering sleep.
She held up a finger, turning to rinse and wash off her brush before emerging again.
“Did I… try to molest you last night?” she asked. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me at her words. “Oh, God,” she groaned, hanging her head.
“To be fair, we both wanted it. I was just being a halfway decent guy and not going there when you were drunk,” I admitted. “But I did tell you that you can climb me as soon as you sobered up,” I said, whipping the sheet over me in an invitation that had her laughing.
She did approach, but she went for the drink on my nightstand, opening and chugging the lime green colored liquid.
Finished, she did climb on top of me, but settled down, her head on my chest, and letting out a deep breath.
“Thank you for a really fun night. Even if I’m pretty sure I had an actual conversation with a plant,” she said.
“It was a cactus. And you were scolding it for sticking you as you passed by it.”
“And did I… insult Eddie’s cooking?”
“Well, his inability to make toast taste better than normal, anyway,” I told her as my hands started to absentmindedly move up and down her back.
It wasn’t long, though, until I felt the little shivers moving through her at the light touch.
So I went ahead and let my hands explore some more, grazing the sides of her breasts, sliding over her ass.
Her legs shifted to straddle me more fully, then she scooted up until my cock was pressed against her pussy, already wet with need for me.
“Always so fucking ready for me,” I groaned, rocking my hips up against her. “Let me see you,” I demanded softly.
Siana pushed up to fully straddle me, her cheeks and chest flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded with something other than a headache now.
She writhed against me, her lips parting on a silent moan.
