“He said the first time you saw me, that night in Vegas, you said to him: ‘Did you see that mum? I just want to fuck her mouth.’” I allowed it to sit there. “Is that true? Did you say that?”
He was quiet for a moment, contemplating. “Mm, that sounds like something I might have said… But in my defense, I was a twenty-year-old lad. We can be crass.”
“Hayes…”
“Fucking Oliver… Oh, come on. What did you say when you first saw me? To yourself, what did you say?”
“Probably something like, ‘Oh, he’s cute.’”
“Really? Hmm… Because I clearly remember a conversation with someone saying, and I quote, ‘God, I just want to sit on this kid’s face and pull his hair.’”
I smiled at that.
“I don’t know,” he continued, “but that sounds an awful lot like fucking my mouth.”
“It sounds more delicate my way.”
“Delicate?Delicate mouth fucking?” He smiled. “Right. You’re insane, Solène, and that is why I love you.” He kissed me again before heading toward the door. “Let me know when you’re up for some delicate mouth fucking. I’ll be back.”
I awoke in the middle of that night to Hayes’s mouth traveling the length of my spine. His lips, tongue, soft, descending. To my ass and between my legs before I could properly recall where we were. My screams, stifled in the pillow. And when he was done, he flipped me over and did it again.
And I wasn’t certain if it was the thinness of the mountain air, but everything felt so heightened and intensified that I could not be sure whose birthday we were celebrating. Hayes’s tongue unfolding me. His fingers, long and thick, and so very familiar. The way he explored me so completely, as if each time was the first. As if he wereenjoyingit. I could not get enough. My ass lifting off the bed to meet him. My hands in his hair, gripping his skull. My nails in his scalp. Jesus fuck.
I came so hard it seemed to me the entire room was spinning.
“Shit,” he said, smiling up at me. “That wasn’t very delicate, was it? My apologies.”
Hayes wiped his face with the back of one hand and grabbed both my wrists with the other, pinning them above my head.
And before I could recover, his dick was pushing up inside of me. And as always, that first thrust was everything. I marveled at it: the way he fit me. Thick. Perfect. Like no one who had come before him. As if all my life I’d been walking around with a Hayes-shaped vagina and never knew. The idea made me smile. But then, completely unexpected, I started to cry.
He stopped moving, his free hand brushing my hair from my face. “Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you crying? It’s a little disconcerting when we’re having sex and you’re crying.” The heel of his palm slid over my cheek.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you crying, Solène?”
“Because… I love you. Because this is perfect and I don’t want it to end.” It was the most honest I’d been with him. It was the most honest I’d been with myself.
“Are you ending it?”
I shook my head.
“Then there’s no reason to cry. I’m not going anywhere.” He started moving again. So. Fucking. Deep.
“It ends every time you leave. Every time I go back to my life and my fucking computer, it ends.”
“Well, we’ll get you a new computer, then.” He smiled. “Look at me.Look at me.It’s just us. It’s just you and me in this relationship. Fuck everything else.”
The fact that he could say that to me with my arms pinned above my head and his dick gliding in and out—the fact that he held my gaze the entire time, never wavering, never losing his tempo, the fact that I could smell myself on his face—was so unbelievably sexy. I did not want it to end.
