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I nod. It was gross. I had one cup and switched to beer. I only drank it because I saw Nick with Cora. I wanted to get out of that kitchen as fast as I could, so I grabbed whatever was closest.
He’s still laughing at me.
“I made that punch.” He confesses. “How was it?”
“Ehh.” I can’t lie. “Not great.”
Nick laughs some more.
Even his laugh is sexy. Everything this guy does oozes sex.
“Yeah, I would not suggest drinking anything I’ve concocted together. I added a lot of seltzer into it.” He admits and pokes my belly.
Oh god.This is so embarrassing.
“Yup. I will remember not to.” I try again to lift myself up, but Nick pulls me back down.
“You’re not leaving. Not when my cock is still hard. So, get that sweet belchy ass back here.” He pins me down beneath him, rubbing his erection along the inside of my thigh. “Just don’t fart in front of me. We don’t know each other that well yet.”
He smirks, but the laughing stops.
A switch goes off as his cock reaches higher, hitting my sex. And then we’re making out on his bed again.
After another round of hot sweaty sex with Nick Miller, I pass out on top of him.
The exhaustion caught up with me.
I think he was trying to get me to belch again. He insisted I stay on top of him, even when I tried to roll off. Either that or he was just as tired as me because when I woke up he was sound asleep.
My eyes take a minute to adjust to the dark room.
I reach up, finding his phone face down. It’s three-thirty, and I’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours.
I use the light from his locked screen to find my clothes.
I froze mid-way pulling up my skirt when I heard movement across the room behind the curtain dividing it. His roommate must’ve come back to his bed at some point. It’s quiet which means the party is over. If I’m extra quiet I can get out unseen.
My phone was dead. I left it in my jacket pocket, but it’s not a far walk.
Very quietly, I pick up the rest of my clothes and pull them on.
Nick doesn’t even stir. He lays there with one arm behind his head and the other still out at his side from where I was laid out next to him.
It’s so tempting to slide back into bed with him. Just curl up next to him and wait until morning.
But no, that would be bad. That’s girlfriend territory, and I am definitely not that.
My shirt is still rolled in a ball on the floor and it reeks of beer and manly spring soap. And it’s still wet.
At the end of his bed is a tee shirt. A team shirt with the number 27 and Miller across the back.
Eh, he won’t mind.
It smells like him and sweat, but his sweat. It’s a lot better than the beer soaked shirt I have. Plus, he probably gets these shirts for free. I’m sure he has a ton of them.
He won’t even notice it’s gone.
The things I tell myself to wash away my guilt.
