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His lips find mine. Forceful and manic as his length turns hard as diamond. Every muscle in his body begins to tremble. I can feel his fingertips as they vibrate, his arms as they shake, and his stomach as it quivers.
I'm drunk on him. Swaying my hips, I can hardly lift myself anymore as the orgasm sweeps through my body rendering me weak. My muscles collapse, surrendering to the feeling coursing through my veins.
Mark's fingers run through my hair as he pulls his cock free. “Now that's a wakeup call,” he says with a chuckle.
Giggling, I push my hands into his pecs and sit up. “What time is it?” I ask, searching for the clock.
“Almost eight.”
“Shit, my flight leaves soon.”
Letting my eyes fall to his, I see a flicker of sadness cross his face. It's brief, gone with a single blink. Thinning my lips, I smile, and climb off him. As much as I don't want to leave, I know I have to.
“I had fun,” I say as I grab a pair of boy-shorts from my suitcase and slip them on.
“Me too.” He plants his feet on the floor and scratches sleepy fingers through his hair. Yawning, he gives me a half smile. “I lost my pants,” he says, looking around the floor.
“They're over here.” Picking them up, I toss them to him. “You know checkout isn't until eleven, you don't have to rush out. You could stay and sleep a little longer.”
“No, it's cool. I have shit to get done today anyway.”
Digging out a pair of jeans and a pair of red heels, I slip them both on. Pulling a shirt over my head, I start to pack up my stuff. Folding my dress, I lay it in the bag, tucking my heels from the night before beside it.
“I think I have everything.”
Mark chuckles as he tugs his button-up over his thick arms. “You weren't kidding.”
“About what?”
His eyes drop to my feet. “Heels. You really do wear them all the time.”
Looking down, I roll my foot side to side. “I sure do. I wasn't lying when I told you that.”
“You ever think about changing them in for a sneakers?”
“Nope.” Grinning wide, I say, “I can run better in these than any pair of sneakers.”
“Ha!” he laughs out loud and shakes his head. “You keep telling yourself that.”
Standing my suitcase up, I pull out my phone and call a taxi. “I can't miss this plane.”
“Why? You got people waiting on you back home?”
“Always.” My voice is flat. “In my world everyone is waiting on me for something.”
Mark eyes me for a second, leaving whatever questions he has unasked. But I can see the curiosity in his eyes. He wants to know more, but maybe he just doesn't see a point in asking.
This was a chance night. Something that ends the second I walk out that door. There's no point in exchanging stories. This is just about sex.
My phone pings in my hand. “My cab's here.”
Reaching down he grabs the handle of my luggage. “Here, I'll walk you out.”
We head to the front, and I check out. Of course the person working is someone else Mark knows. They exchange a little back and forth chatter, niceties really. A quick how are you, how's the crop, how's your family. All the things you get from rural America.
At least it seems genuine.
It's hard to wrap my head around the nature of these town folk. In the city everyone is so shallow, so focused on themselves that even a single friendly greeting leads to discussion about the atrocities someone else committed. A slack jaw response with no real care to actually knowing how you truly are. It's more important to spread all the slander and lies than truly care about someone else. They let rumors forge the way and either open doors or slam them in your face.
