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As much as that thought alarms me, it’s quickly doused when Bain wraps his arms around my stomach and pulls me upright. I’m on my knees on the couch and he’s standing behind me.
His embrace is all-encompassing, warm and sensual. His cock is still thick inside me and I have a crazy urge to demand he go again.
Bain rests his chin on my shoulder. His voice is gruff, sated. “That was a little crazy.”
I tell him the truth. “I’m wrecked.”
He chuckles and squeezes me.
“We didn’t use protection,” I murmur.
His entire body tenses against me and his breath rushes out in a curse. “Fuck. I didn’t even think about it.”
“I didn’t either. We were drinking—”
“We’re not that drunk.”
No, we’re really not. We should have stopped that frenzy. We should have slowed down and made sure we were safe.
Bain huffs out a frustrated breath. “Christ… I’m sorry, Kiera.”
“It’s not on you. I forgot too. Or maybe I didn’t forget. Maybe I just wanted it to happen so bad, I didn’t care.”
Another squeeze and his lips press against my temple. “For what it’s worth, I’ve always used protection. I’m positive you don’t have anything to worry about from me, but you also don’t know me. I’ll get a test, though.”
“I will too,” I rush to assure him. “Same as you… I’ve always practiced safe sex. But just to ease our minds.”
It’s silent a moment, then he hesitantly asks, “And birth control?”
“I’m good,” I assure him, my arms coming up over his for my own squeeze of reassurance. “I’m on the pill.”
His exhale is lusty with relief. “Thank fuck.”
The tension leaves my body and I lean back into him for a moment. “Thank fuck is right.”
We stay that way, silent as we contemplate what just happened. And then it becomes awkward so I wiggle a bit to dislodge his arms from me and he steps back from the couch.
I feel the rush of his semen run down the insides of my thighs. “I’ll be back,” I say, pausing to scoop up my bra and panties before heading into the guest bathroom.
After I clean up, I slip into those bare essentials and return to the living room. To my relief, Bain is almost fully dressed, not that he had to do much other than zip up his pants and put his sweater back on.
I had thought he might want to stay the night and that’s a hard pass for me. I’ve found over the last few years that if you remove that intimacy—of actually sharing a bed to sleep—you avoid the rapport that develops through conversation the next morning. I wasn’t kidding when I told him I don’t do relationships, and apparently, he doesn’t either. I’m grateful for it.
Bain smiles and throws a thumb at the door. “I called an Uber. There’s one close by that’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Probably the same one that dropped us off.” I bend to nab my jeans and sweater but don’t bother putting them on. I’m going straight to bed after Bain leaves.
“We weren’t that fast. I know that seemed like a whirlwind, but we both had some staying power.”
“Yeah,” I reply softly, almost dreamily. That was some amazing sex.
More than amazing. I connected with Bain in a way that’s unknown to me and I can’t figure out why. I hardly know anything about him, other than he’s cute and charming.
Maybe it’s just that he’s a sexual powerhouse. I usually hate men trying to control me or thinking I can’t fend for myself or make my own decisions, but tonight I very much enjoyed how Bain decided this would go down once we crossed the threshold.
Interesting.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Bain says as he glances at his phone, presumably the Uber app to check on his driver.
