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I swallow hard and look at him. His arms are planted on the ground on either side of my head, and he starts moving his hips.
I cry out when he moves inside of me. Brett doesn’t take his time slowly building up. He picks up his pace almost right away, and I moan loudly as he strokes in and out of me. I wrap my legs around his hips, and my body rocks back and forth as he pounds into me.
This was what I wanted since the moment Brett kissed me at the bar and cracked open lust for him I didn’t know I had. I have no idea what this is, but right now, it’s right.
I stop thinking and give myself over to the feel of him sliding in and out of me. I’m going to orgasm again, soon. I can feel it building inside of me. And judging by the way Brett’s thrusting, his jaw clenched and his eyes riddled with concentration and raw lust, he’s getting close, too.
It’s going to be over soon. We’re too drunk to draw this out. But somehow, that doesn’t matter. Being with Brett is new and exciting and different. But something about this, about the way we fit together like we’ve been made for each other, feels like we’ve been together for eons.
I don’t understand what it means.
But the orgasm blooms at my core and spreads out through my body, filling me up like a cup of hot water. The level rises and rises, until I spill over.
I cry out and curl my arms around Brett’s back, my legs around his waist as I orgasm.
He pounds into me, and a moment later, he lets out a sharp cry. I can feel him pulsating, jerking, and throbbing inside of me.
We both breathe hard, skin slick with sweat. Brett hovers over me for just another moment before he slides out of me. He collapses on the bed next to me and groans.
“Fuck,” he mutters and runs his hands through his hair, looking at me with those dark eyes, drowning deep and filled with something I don’t understand.
“Yeah,” I say.
Brett shifts and pulls me against him. I don’t want to stay and cuddle. This is Brett. This isn’t what we do. But he’s warm, and his arms are safe, and the alcohol makes me suddenly tired. After two orgasms, my body wants to shut down.
I close my eyes. Just a second, I tell myself. I’m just going to rest for a moment, and then I’ll get up, get dressed, and go back to my own room.
Brett falls asleep first. His body is a dead weight around me, but I don’t feel trapped like I thought I would. His breathing is steady, and it’s nice to have someone so close to me again. I missed being connected to someone.
It’s Brett, I remind myself. I don’t want to be connected to him.
But this is just one night. This is just the alcohol talking. Tomorrow, when I’m sober, everything will look different.
I close my eyes. Just a short while, I tell myself, before I sink into a deep sleep, too.
