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3
JEREMY
I'm tired, worn out actually, but I'm not sleepy yet. Instead, I'm surprised at how much I still want her. Why the hell am I still thinking about sex right after I just finished? I'm usually in control of my body, but it seems like my body is not taking commands from me today.
I don’t even know her name, but I don’t care. I gather this woman's naked body into my arms and listen to the soft sound of her sleep. I can’t stop staring at her. My eyes rove over the delicate lines of her face, at the slight flutter of her long, thick lashes over her cheeks. I watch how peacefully she sleeps, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I'm surprised at how much I'm enjoying watching her.
Her hair pools around her, framing her delicate features and casting a soft halo around her face. I find her insanely attractive, especially since I know that I’m the one who took her virginity. I’m the reason her hair has come loose from its clasp. I’m the reason her cheeks are flushed a delicate pink. There’s still a faint glisten to her skin from sweat and I can’t help owning that.
I cuddle her, something I don't usually do. I'm usually one to screw and move on. But for some reason, this stranger has broken all my rules.
No. This isn’t her doing. This was all my own fault, all because there’s something about her that I can’t ignore.
I can’t believe I kissed her.
That's one rule I’ve never broken with any of the women I’ve been with. It is always about the release. No more, no less. And once I get what I want, I send the women off. I make sure they know that this was just sex, too, so they don’t expect anything from me afterward.
But this time?
And what the hell was I thinking, having mind-blowing sex with a virgin? That guilt is going to eat at me for a long time. I steer clear of anyone who even hints at wanting something more from me. Being someone’s "first" is not in my playbook.
But then a stupid grin covers my face. I can’t stop it. There’s something unbelievably hot about knowing that I claimed her, that she’ll compare every future guy to me from now on. There’s–
No. I shake off that self-absorbed thought. If I’m anything, it’s not a selfish lover. I make sure that my dates get exactly what they want–physically, at least–before I take my own pleasure. I don’t do sweet, loving sex. There’s nothing romantic about the way I screw. I pound out orgasms like it’s some kind of competition. And this creature nestled against my chest deserved better than rough, raw sex that would leave anyone torn in half.
She inches closer in her sleep all of a sudden..
I still can't believe she willingly gave her virginity to me. I'm conflicted, unsure whether I should feel good or bad.
A damn beautiful virgin.
A hint of possessiveness floods through me as I drape my hands over her. I shrug it off. I know this is only temporary, and tomorrow we will go back to our different lives. After all, I’ve been with a lot of women—like, a lot, so many that I’ve lost count. But none of them has made me long to kiss them or cuddle them or find out more about them.
I knew there was something different about her the moment I laid eyes on her at the bar. I should have ignored it, should have walked out. But I couldn’t resist.
I wish I knew something about her. Even if it’s just her name or her age. I stiffen for a second, struck by the terrifying thought that she could be younger than she looks. I sigh with relief when I remember seeing her keys on the bar. there was a little plastic charm with some Greek letters on it. She had to at least be in college… and perfectly legal.
Still, I know I'm going to ask her in the morning. With that thought on my mind, I doze off.
My eyelids flutter open at the first flickering of sunlight in the room. I squint my eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness of the morning light. I close them back contentedly, reliving last night in my head.
Last night… her…
My eyes fly open once more. I turn, expecting to find the young woman still nestled beside me. Instead, there's an empty place. I run my hand over where she slept, but it’s cold, so that means she left some time ago.
All the grogginess vanishes from my mind.
She's gone.
I scan the room for any clues left behind, but there's nothing. No note, no belongings, just an echoing void.
Under normal circumstances, I’d be happy. In fact, I should be glad that I don’t have to deal with one of the clingy ones who demands to have my phone number or tells me to call her. Still,it's disconcerting the way she slipped out without me noticing. It’s almost as though she’d never actually been here.
The unease settles in, deeper than I care to admit. I grapple with the unknown, wondering who she was. Memories flood my mind, just fragments of moments we shared. The way she writhed and whimpered underneath me as I drove myself into her comes to mind. How she took everything I had to give with fervor, screaming in pleasure, clawing at my back. I'm certain the skin right below my neck is torn open, but I don't care.
But the fact that she left without a word sends sparks of fire through my veins. I don't know why I'm angry, but I am. I get out of bed and look around to be sure, but she didn't take anything from me, of course. My wallet is still in the pocket of my pants, the cash all still in place. My watch and phone are on the dresser where I’d left them last night. If she were a thief, it would make sense to take something, anything.
Instead, she disappeared.
