“May I?” She asks.
No one has ever asked me if they can put the condom on me before, and I’m so lost for words all I can do is nod, my head spinning slightly from the alcohol.
She sits up, her legs still on my sides, and takes the rubber from me. My body tightens when her fingers touch me – steady, deliberate, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her scent is subtly sweet up close, distracting in a way it shouldn’t be, but I blame the booze and the heat and the fact that she hasn’t looked away once. She rolls the condom on with maddening care, eyes locked on mine, and I feel the pull of it – pure chemistry, pure ego, purefuck yes. She smells like summer and salt and whatever perfume she chose tonight, and it’s gorgeous.
When she’s finished, she lowers her legs and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her. The feel of her breasts pressed against my chest is almost more than I can take. I grip her thighs tightly, feeling a strange heat building inmy chest, a sensation that runs deeper than mere attraction. I thrust into her, unable to stop myself from filling her again. The scent of her, warm and intoxicating, seems to wrap around me, heightening everything. I can’t help but want more.
“I’m not going to last.” I mutter into her hair, my voice ragged. I can feel her energy – something about it makes me feel possessive, urgent.
“I don’t want you to,” she says.
The world around us and all of my responsibilities fade into a blur as our connection deepens, becoming a whirlwind of desire and sensation. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being pulled into her orbit, and it’s more than just physical attraction – it feels like something deeper, but my drunk mind can’t quite piece it together.
I begin to move with a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing her closer to the brink of pleasure. Her moans grow louder, filling the room with the sounds of our passion. I feel a rush of possessiveness as I move inside her, like I need to be the only thing she feels – like I need to earn this, not steal it.
Leaning down to capture her lips in a fierce kiss, our tongues duel as we both seek release. Her body writhes beneath mine, her pleasure building to an intense peak, and I realise – she’s not just an ordinary hookup.
In this moment, nothing else matters. Time slows down, and it’s just her and me, locked in a passionate embrace. Our bodies move as one, seeking fulfilment and finding solace in each other’s touch, the room filled with a symphony of our breaths mingling, punctuated by soft moans and gasps.
Together, we ride the wave of pleasure, reaching higher and higher until we’re consumed by a crescendo of bliss. With a final cry, she shatters around me, her muscles clenching tightly as she rides out her orgasm.
I follow soon after, spilling inside her with a deep groan, the rush of release almost more intense than I expected, leaving me disoriented and blissed out, though there’s a nagging feeling in the back of my mind.
I’m left wanting more, and I can’t shake the strange pull I feel toward her.
We lay there for a moment, our bodies intertwined and our breathing laboured. I brush a strand of hair from her face, gazing into her eyes with a sense of contentment. I let out a blissful sigh as she curls up beside me, both of us wrapped in the blanket.
This is where I want to be. I sure as fuck didn’t expect to be saying this, but after one night of being with Flynn, everything has already changed. And just like that, all thoughts of the summer challenge and my fiancé have fled my mind.
It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years.
But in the morning disappointment floods me when I wake and see that she’s gone, leaving only a long blonde wig behind as evidence that last night ever really happened. Something about her got under my skin – too fast, too deep for a stranger in a wig.
Forget barefoot Barbie, I want to find my sinful Cinderella. I just had the most intense hookup of my life and can’t explain why.
One night with the mysterious stranger will never be enough.
FIVE
LANI
I wake with a start,too hot and stifled. Rolling over I’m surprised to find myself face to face with my hookup from last night. His scent still lingers in the air, strong and smoky, and I can’t ignore the pull of it – the memory of his presence still sitting heavy in my body, the echo of last night refusing to fade.
I must have fallen asleep, but I didn’t expecthimto hang around.
I wasn’t drunk last night, but I was buzzed enough to do something reckless: follow a stranger into the ocean and then back here for several hours of amazing sex. I can still feel him – his heat, his weight, the intensity of being with someone so commanding – and it makes my pulse race all over again. I’m exhausted, and my body aches in the most delicious way possible. There’s a lingering heat in my core, a desire that hasn’t quite faded yet.
Still, it’s definitely out of character for me, but given the stress that I’ve been under lately, it’s hardly surprising that I needed to let off some steam. Being with someone so confident,so sure of himself, felt like a release – something I didn’t realise I’d been craving until it happened.
I’m glad, in the cold light of day, to see that last night’s choices weren’t too poor. The guy beside me looks like a sleeping angel. High cheekbones, proud nose, divine lashes. There’s a slight curve to his lips, like he’s having a nice dream, and I don’t want to disturb that. There’s a faint, lingering warmth about him that settles something in me in a way I can’t quite explain.
Piecing together his looks in broad daylight and him saying his family names were Mae and Nari, it’s clear that he has some sort of Asian heritage, though I’m a little embarrassed to not know what.
If I thought I’d ever see him again, I’d like to get to know him better, but I’m realistic enough to know that whilst we might work together in the coming months, we’re not likely to become an item. Although, something about him keeps pulling at my attention, like a reminder of a want I didn’t know I had.
Sliding silently from the bed, I sneak my way downstairs and find our clothes from last night tangled in a wet pile. Gross. Finn’s discarded condom on top makes me smile though.
I bundle my bra inside my dress – unable to find my thong anywhere – and pull on the least wet thing I can find, which happens to be Finn’s shirt. The soft, lingering smell of him wraps around me like a cloak as I slip it on, and a shiver runs down my spine, an unexpected warmth spreading through me. I hope he won’t mind, but I don’t plan on waking him to ask permission.