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She looks so flushed, so needy, that I do exactly what she wants. Pulling a condom from the bedside cabinet, I roll it on before sliding into her slowly and deeply.
She sits up and wraps her hands around the back of my neck, her eyes locked on mine as she rocks her hips. Slow at first. Testing. Then building in rhythm as I grip her waist and guide her movements.
She moans into the crook of my neck, teeth grazing my shoulder, tongue flirting over my skin as if she’s tasting every inch of me.
I thrust deeper, harder. She joins me, grinding against me with a desperation that nearly undoes me on the spot.
Sweat builds between my shoulder blades, the room blurring around us. She’s panting now, eyes fluttering shut momentarily before opening again to stare at me with such raw intensity I feel dangerously close to losing control.
“Owen.”
She clings to me while I grip her thighs, both of us holding on as the pressure builds higher and higher, until it feels impossible to withstand another second of it.
“Oh God, Owen.”
She throws her head back, her body clenching around me as I reach my peak, pleasure tearing through me like it’s been building for a hundred years.
Afterwards, the room feels heavy and still.
Quiet.
All that can be heard is the unsteady rhythm of our breathing, and for one terrible moment, I wonder what happens now.
Will this be awkward?
Is this the part where Alice realises what a huge mistake she’s made?
Then she speaks, and I know I’m home.
“Hold me,” she whispers, her body softening as I gather her in my arms.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur while her eyes flutter closed. “I’ve got you.”
And then, against her soft hair, so quietly I’m not even sure she hears me, I whisper, “And I’m never letting you go.”
Time has been replaced with this moment: Alice naked in my bed, still entwined in my arms, my fingers trailing over her skin, ensuring that she’s real and not just some dream.
“I should go home,” she says with about as much conviction as someone saying they should tackle the huge pile of laundry.
“You can’t,” I say.
She looks up at me.
“You told me to hold you, and I said I wasn’t letting you go, so you can’t leave; otherwise, I’ll be breaking my promise.” She might think I’m joking, but I’m not.
She raises an eyebrow. “What about when I need the bathroom?”
“That’ll be the only exception.”
Alice props herself up on her elbow, her hair falling over her shoulder.
“I have work tomorrow.”
“Your uniform is here, albeit a little creased,” I tell her.
“But my make-up and toothbrush aren’t.”
“I have a spare toothbrush, and I’ll take you to work via your place in the morning so you can get what you need,” I say, hoping she doesn’t realise that I already thought of all of this before she even arrived at my door. Then I remember that she knows me, more than most people I suspect.