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“You must have a condom on you,” I say, expecting he’ll push away.
Instead, he blows cool air between my legs and vibrates his fingertips against my G-spot.
I arch and exhale, spread my legs wider and press into his hand. I’m a second from a full orgasm and he pulls his fingers out, leaving me with nothing for my muscles to contract around. Clenching emptiness is painful and the orgasm subsides.
“No!” I yell into the air. “Eric, please—”
“Don’t beg, baby. Don’t do it. I don’t want to win this one.”
“Fuck you, Eric. Fuck you.”
He laughs and pushes to standing, looking down at me.
“Finish yourself off. We need to get to the party.”
“I hate you!” I say like a petulant teenager, spreading my knees as wide as I can, to show him what he could be enjoying. I finger my clit while Eric watches from the foot of the bed, stroking himself, mouth open.
He comes first and his moan is all I need to finish myself. I press my butt into the mattress with my hand curled tight against my shaking core. But Eric pulls me by my ankles so my whole body slides down the bed. He drops back to his knees and buries his face where it never should have left.
I am spent. His touch is too intense. I twist and try to move away from his mouth, but he holds me firm.
“Stopstopstop. It’s too much. I can’t …” I can’t finish my sentence. I’ve stopped breathing.
“Are you begging?”
“Yes! I’m begging. Stop! Please, Eric!”
Eric pulls back and I curl into a ball, panting, aching, exhausted.
He lays down and wraps himself around me in a calming hug.
“You okay?” he asks.
I have no idea how to answer. I’ve just had the most intense sexual experience of my life with a man I’m not even dating.
Am I okay? I’m confused. The voice in my head that’s normally a glass half-empty talker, is excited and saying, “Don’t screw this up. He’s your match.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m good. You good?”
“Better than good. Let’s shower.”
This man will be my undoing.
I’m hornier now than I was mid-shower.
I can barely catch my breath since my pelvic floor muscles are vibrating like leaves in the wind.
I can’t look at Eric since I know my eyes are pleading. And I am not going to beg, not even silently.
This is it. Moment of truth.
Please goddess, let him do the right thing.
Eric lowers his hand from the crown of my head to my neck. He’s gentle but firm in his communication. He wants me to stand. Fine. I can stand. But I will not make eye contact.
He tilts my chin up so the only way not to look at him would be to close my eyes. That would be silly.
We stare at each other for many jagged breaths.
