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Harlow
Best. Sex. Ever.
Like, ever, ever.
People write songs about the sex we just had and they aren’t sad ones. Jesus, who knew I could have multiples?
I want to scream into the pillow but manage to pull myself together. I told him I wasn’t crazy, and that might give him some doubts. But this day has been a whirlwind and I’m not really sure how to process it all.
First, I had mind-blowing sex. That in itself is worth screaming about.
Second, I really freaking like him. Michael is fun and even though he’s a little naughty, sometimes it’s good to balance the goodness I tend to lean toward. I’m always the good girl, doing what people ask, finding them love, blah, blah. Maybe putting my tiara away and grabbing the broomstick will be a change that leads to more fun.
And by fun I mean multiples.
Third, I am not a one-night-stand girl, and this is a problem.
My sexual conquests always have meaning, and I at least know the guy a little, but I don’t know Michael at all. But he’s sweet, he can put a tree up, and he must have at least some feelings toward me, right?
Do I ask him to stay?
Do I see if he wants to go for another round?
I don’t know the rules in this situation, and that’s something I’m not used to.
All of these are first-world problems, but it’s the world I live in.
I chew on my thumbnail as I mull it all over and try to think logically. If Michael wants to leave, he can—it’s not like he has to drive. And if this is all we ever have, I can be a mature adult. Not to mention, this isn’t my forever apartment, so if it gets super awkward, I’ll just move.
It’s not that serious. It’s just a night.
One incredible, unforgettable night.
“You okay?” he asks, and I jump a little.
The pillow is covering my bare breasts, and again, I’m faced with not knowing where to go with this. “Uhh, yeah, I just need to … use the bathroom.”
He smiles, his naked body on full display and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to stare at his cock. I really like it. It did magical things, and I’d like to see if it was just a fluke or not.
I mentally slap myself. I promised not to be crazy and I will uphold my end of the bargain.
I do my business and walk back out. When I enter the bedroom, Michael is on the bed, covers up to his waist, but his chest is bare. God, he is a work of art.
“Come here,” he says with his arms open.
And I go without pause.
“I know you said you never do that …”
I look up. “I don’t. I’m a serial monogamist. Not really by choice, but I typically only sleep with guys I really like, and never on day one.”
“It’s not really my normal, either. I usually at least know more than just some basic information.”
That makes me feel marginally better. “What do you want to know?”
“Family?”
“My parents are still happily married, for over forty years now. I have one brother who isn’t married, and I swear never will be. Even though I’ve tried to match him at least three times.”
