2. Noa #2
He bites the back of my shoulder hard. Holds himself still to slow things down. His hips rotate, corkscrewing his cock deeper. He folds himself over me, one arm around my ribs, the other hand threads through my hair as he fucks me into the mattress.
I cannot.
My next orgasm is another eruption. All consuming. Lake follows me over with a low groan between my shoulder blades, my fake name in his throat. He stays inside me for a long time. Pulls out slow and I feel hot liquid trickle out of my pussy. The sheets underneath us are soaked all the way through.
He flops onto his back, taking me with him so I’m draped over his chest and off the enormous wet spot. Brushes hair off my face. Tucks a piece of it behind my ear with care.
“Tell me one thing about you.” He’s half-asleep, half-smiling, thumb moving on my cheekbone. “Doesn’t have to be big. Not gonna lie, you intrigue me, girl.”
By now, my high is thinner, the warmth gone watery. I sense the cold edge of a comedown waiting its turn. I don’t want to face it yet. I want the bright afterglow of a great fuck to last a little longer, and there’s one way I know to keep it going.
“Here’s one.” I move down his body, my tongue dragging along his sternum, ribs, the planes of his abs to the cut of his hip. “I’ve dreamed about sucking your cock since the second you were onstage. It’s gonna taste extra delicious with my pussy juices creamed all over you.”
Lake chokes out a laugh when I swallow his shaft, which tastes of both of us. His hand settles into my hair and he lets me change the subject with my mouth.
If there’s one thing I’m sure of in life, it’s my world-class blow jobs. In certain circles, I’m famous for them. By the time I’ve worked my way back up his body he’s hard as a rock again and not interested in stupid chitchat anymore.
I climb on top of him, sink down, and we groan as I grind my clit on his pubic bone. This angle changes everything. His cock fits me perfectly, the head presses on the spot that makes my eyes roll back at the double stimulation. I ride him in a frenzy with hands flat on his chest.
Light illuminates his collarbone and the tendon standing taut in his neck. He grips my hips. Not steering like most men.
Holding.
Letting me set the pace.
“I could get used to this, baby.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Fuck.
I swear I see hearts in his eyes so I hover my tits over his lips to redirect his focus. Like the wildest cowgirl, I buck until I’m coming so hard my entire body shakes. Lake finishes inside me with three blunt upward strokes, erupting inside me again.
After, we lie tangled and panting. Quiet. He holds me, palm moving in a slow circle on my back. It’s almost worse than talking. Tenderness isn’t something I’m accustomed to with the men I fuck.
We doze off for a while until he stirs again, cock poking against my hip. His mouth finds my shoulder and he lifts my leg and slips back in. This fuck is slow. My arm wraps backward around his neck, hand threading through his curls. We’re so lubricated, every stroke sounds obscene.
Lake slides his hand between us and rubs my clit until I burst, then shoots his load into me one more time and goes boneless against my back.
“Stay for breakfast,” he breathes into the hollow of my neck, half-asleep.
I don’t say anything, because I won’t make a promise I don’t intend to keep. Oblivious, he wraps his arm around me and tucks my head under his chin. Within moments, his heartbeat slows under my cheek and I’m left facing the reality of the situation.
Almost a year ago I promised I was done with this destruction. No more drugs. No more fucking random strangers. No more mornings like the one I can already feel looming.
I meant it.
Life as I know it depended on changing my ways.
Now, I’m back at square one.
It’ll go how it always does. When the night is over, a cold draft opens behind my sternum where bright excitement pulsated a few hours before. My teeth and jaw begin to ache from grinding them together. The glow pulls back from the edges of the room like a tide going out, and leaves me behind.
Naked and full of shame.
My teeth start to chatter. I’ve got to get the fuck out of here, except I’m pinned against Lake, who’s chest is rising and falling against my ear with the steadiness of a man with a solid future ahead of him.
I’ve literally fucked him into exhaustion.
Staring at the ceiling fan for what seems like hours, I wait patiently until his arm slides off my ribs an inch at a time and I’m finally able to escape without waking him. My head pounds like a drum and everything below my waist aches.
I can still feel him still inside me. A mixture of our come cakes my inner thighs. My pussy clenches around nothing.
I’ve let myself down. Again. All I want to do is take a shower and try to start over.
A man like Lake Lyon deserves a girl who can love him. Who hasn’t woken up this same way a hundred times in a hundred other beds. He’s too good for me, by an enormous and unfair margin.
My dress is on the floor. I pull it over my head. The strap won’t stay up. My underwear’s probably somewhere in his sheets. I can’t risk waking him so I leave it. Toe on my heels and grab my clutch on the kitchen counter. My phone has four percent battery, enough to call a Lyft.
On my way out, I look back at Lake. His mouth is open in sleep. One curl sproings across his forehead. His left arm is still curled against his ribs in the shape of my body, which is no longer there.
Noticing the notebook on the milk crate next to his bed, I quickly page through it.
Big, messy handwriting. Words crossed out.
A half-line about a sky he saw walking home from a gig.
Impulsively, I carefully tear a strip off the bottom of a blank page.
Using a pencil with a chewed end, I write the one thing I want him to remember.
Neeley.
I set it on the milk crate next to the notebook. Look at him one more time and close the door behind me without a sound.
With no traffic at this early hour, the ride home is less than twenty minutes. I make it to the pool house, where I live on my parents’ compound. Punch in the keypad. Lock the door behind me.
Time to wash last night away. I turn up the water in the shower as hot as it goes and let it practically scald me to wash away his scent. I lather up my pussy and the soreness between my legs reminds me of the most intimate sex I’ve ever had.
Sorrow overtakes me. I can’t keep giving away my body to random men. I’m twenty-three years old, I don’t know if I can.
A long, gray hallway of ghosts from my past haunt me.
Tonight I gave Lake something more, even if he doesn’t know it.
I let him in. A little.
A lot.
Thankfully, I saved him from my poison by walking out before he could try to make this into something it can’t ever be.
The shower runs and runs.
I don’t realizing I’m sobbing until the water turns cold.