Not romantic.
Notmeaningful.
Just… electric.
Frankly, I enjoyed it too much. And while it clearly was a tuck-your-dick-back-in-and-leave situation, I just couldn’t walk out first.
Still, the moment the idea of pillow talk crossed my mind, I did the only reasonable thing. I escaped to the shower like it was a fire exit.
Perhaps it was her insistence on anonymity, the masks, or the environment. People come here to fuck, after all.
Something about her just landed differently. And fuck, I can’t stand admitting it even in my own head.
When I approached her, I was focused. Get to know her in order to get closer to my goal here. And get Pascal’s number in the process.
Information, not intimacy.
But Little Thunder… Jesus… she wasn’t what I expected.
She was uncomfortable in that dress, and out of place in the club downstairs. But that didn’t stop her from showing up, or setting boundaries.
Guarded, but still sharp as hell. And the way she looked at me? Like she didn’t give a damn about me. Fuck.
I like that.
Against my will.
It was a heady feeling that she didn’t just meltbecause of my name, my looks, or whatever shallow nonsense most women cling to when they look at me. Not that she knew who I was. But still.
She just wanted to get rid of me. Which, for some fucked-up reason, I find appealing.
When she took my hand and led me upstairs, I followed out of curiosity. But also, out of pure, feverish need.
And when she fucking dropped that atrocious dress and spread those legs for me… fuck.
The memory makes me hard. I fist the shaft, and despite my better judgment, I close my eyes and beat one out to the memory of her tight pussy.
The water hits my back like punishment. I probably deserve it.
The innocence in her behavior in the bedroom contrasted so sharply with her confidence outside of it. I was high on the feeling.
Like taming the untamable. But it wasn’t about getting off on her lack of experience. It was more than that.
It was like she decided to join me in bed, and for reasons I can’t decipher, it felt like a privilege.
Or I’m still high from my orgasm. I don’t remember ever coming so hard.
But let’s call things what they truly are.
The sex was quick, filthy, andgoddammit, satisfying. The kind that makes you remember you’re alive. A sensation I haven’t enjoyed in… years.
Years spent burying myself under revenge and obligation. Years spent pretending numbness is strength.
Dangerous. I don’t need distractions. Especially not ones with soft curves and sharp tongues.
I wasn’t searching for excitement, but she gave me a taste. And now, I’m intrigued. That’s all it is. A curiosity.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist, considering my next move.
