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He started to thrust as his tongue finally worked relentlessly over my clit, driving me up hard and fast.
My thighs were shaking, my moans loud and almost constant.
When I felt I couldn’t take the anticipation anymore, the orgasm coursed through my body, the pleasure overtaking me completely as Detroit continued to lick and thrust, dragging it out until I was completely spent.
It wasn’t until the fog of the orgasm cleared that my mind seemed to come back to me, kicking into overdrive until it was racing and spinning and doing freaking somersaults.
What the heck just happened?
Did this somehow mean that he’d… known about this morning? That he had been awake? That I hadn’t kind of attacked him while he was unconscious? That he was an active participant?
Or was it just a spur-of-the-moment thing?
You know… me being an almost naked woman standing in front of an outlaw biker.
Because, well, I didn’t know a lot about the bikers, but I knew they slept around a lot. Like…a lota lot. Enough so that there were ‘club girls’ who came over and slept with like… all of them. Or at least did when they were single.
I could see how a guy who was used to such easy, casual sex could walk in on a woman in her towel and see it as an opportunity for more easy, casual fun.
The thing was, though, that there were two words that no man I’d known would ever use to describe me. And that was ‘easy’ or ‘casual.’
I was a serious relationship kind of girl.
I wasn’t even a ‘third-date-rule’ person.
I always felt like I needed a strong connection, and to feel like I reallyknewsomeone before I got physical with them.
Which meant that sex didn’t happen until I was already in a committed relationship.
At least, that was how it had always been before.
That said, it had been a really, really long time since my last relationship ended. And with it, my sex life.
Was I just that hormonal that I was willing to break a pattern that had existed since I lost my v-card the week of my nineteenth birthday?
My mind was in so many places at once that I didn’t really register that Detroit had stood, that he was looking down at me.
It wasn’t until he murmured a soft, but kind of savage-sounding “shit” that I seemed to snap out of it and really notice him again.
But by then, it was too late. Because he was walking out of the bathroom, and closing the door behind him.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I climbed off of the counter, finding my legs still a little wobbly.
When I glanced in the mirror, the woman staring back at me was wide-eyed and flushed.
The longer I stared at myself, the less and less I recognized myself until I had to look away, setting my mind back on getting ready for bed, then cleaning up after myself.
I walked out of the bathroom with my heart jackhammering in my chest, staring at Detroit’s door like he might burst out of it at any moment.
Then I turned and went into my room, finding it somehow even colder than it had been the night before.
It was a matter of minutes before it felt like the cold was seeping into my bones.
I went to the dresser, putting on two layers of socks, then found one of my work hoodies, and threw that on too.
My sea cow and extra blanket were still in Detroit’s room, but I couldn’t go in there and get them.
I just had to make do.
