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We headed for his balcony, but we never made it. I caught him in the hallway and pulled him in for a kiss. He pressed up against me, my back to the wall. I took his hand and he held it and raised it to his lips, and kissed each of my knuckles one by one.
“The sunrise,” I whispered.
Eric made a growling sound. “Fuck the sunrise.”
“Or you could just fuck me.”
“The mouth on you…” He kissed me again to shut my rude mouth. I ran my hands through his wind-tousled hair. We blundered, lust-blinded, into his bedroom. I collapsed on the bed and dragged Eric down with me. He nipped the shell of my ear and traced his way downward, his lips on my neck, my shoulder, my breasts. He mouthed at my nipple through the lace of my bodice and a shiver ran through me, a nerve-tingling thrill.
“You like that?”
“Mm…” I pushed him down lower and the dawn light streamed in, coral and golden, bronzing his skin. He pushed my skirt up and followed the line of my thigh, burning-hot kisses stealing the breath from my lungs. I gasped when he pushed my panties aside, trembling already with anticipation. When his tongue found my slit, I cried out, loud and shameless. I threw my head back and gave myself over, my hands in his hair, my pulse coming fast.
“Eric…” I whispered his name. He fluttered his tongue, and the next time I moaned it. My first climax came quickly, in a flurry of sparks, lines of heat darting through me and curling my toes. I gripped the covers and arched up against him, and let him take me there twice, thrice, again.
When I thought I was spent, he kissed his way up my body, and I felt his cock throbbing against my belly. Fresh want surged up, and I grabbed him by his belt. We both fumbled with the buckle, trying to undress him at once, then I hooked his zipper and tugged down his fly. Somehow, between us, we got his pants down, and I pushed him off me and onto his back. I straddled his hips and lowered myself on him, and his eyes shivered shut a second before mine did.
I rode him, and at some point his hand slid up, and he unzipped my dress so it pooled at my hips. He stroked my body all up and down, unhooked my bra, rubbed my skin where it had marked me. The way he looked at me then made my heart race and swell. I could see how he wanted me, and more, how he cared. How the red stripes my bra had left made him want to protect me. He leaned up and kissed them and heat flared within me. I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted Eric.
“I’m close,” he sighed.
I kissed him. “Me too.”
“Don’t want to finish. Want to go on forever.” He held me to him and thrust up inside me. I ground my hips down and felt him go tense. My own orgasm rushed up on me and I gripped Eric’s shoulders, nails digging in as I soared over the edge. He groaned my name deep and it rumbled through me. I couldn’t tell in that moment where I began and he ended.
He held me through the aftershocks till I slumped in his arms, and then we rolled together onto our sides. We lay cradling each other with the sunrise in our hair, and I smiled at the thought of last night’s brief panic, my mini-meltdown over Eric’s ex. I had exes as well, and what would they say about me? Maybe the same thing, we were surface-level. Eric was here with me, body and soul. How could he not be, and look at me that way? I closed my eyes and laid my head on his shoulder.
“You know what this place reminds me of?”
He kissed my hair. “Mm?”
“The first vacation I went on, when I was five. We didn’t have much money back then, but Mom saved her pennies for a trip to Disney. Only our car broke down halfway down the Florida coast. We ended up at this… trash beach.”
Eric chuckled. “What’s a trash beach?”
“A regular beach, but covered in trash.” I smiled at the memory. “Mom was so upset she was about to start bawling. But I was so little, I didn’t know the difference. I just thought it was funny there was so much trash. So Mom got all these bags and we cleared a space for ourselves, and we sat by the water. It was so gorgeous. At least, I remember it gorgeous. It was the first beach I saw.”
“The first beach you saw? So you’re not from LA?”
“Not originally, no. We’re from Tennessee. How about you, where’d you grow up?”
“New York,” said Eric. “Born and bred.” He pulled away slightly and rolled on his back. I followed his warmth, snuggling into his chest.
“Your parents still out there?”
He cleared his throat. “No. Are you thirsty?”
I blinked at him. “What?”
Eric sat up abruptly. “Let me grab you a drink.”
“But, I’m not—”
Eric uncoiled smoothly and hopped off the bed. He went to the mini fridge and got a fruit punch, and held it up to the light so his cheek lit up rosy. I watched as he tumbled ice in a glass, and poured the punch over it, then some for himself.
“Sorry,” he said. “My throat just got dry, and I thought if mine was, yours must be too.” He handed me my drink and I took a sip.
“So, growing up in New York—”
