Pen Pal

17

That feeling of euphoria returns. Without knowing I’m going to do it, I start to laugh.

Breathing hard, Aidan opens his eyes and gazes up at me.

He says gruffly, “You good?”

I grin at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not having a psychotic break or anything. This is just like wow.”

His dark eyes flashing, he returns my grin and squeezes my hips. He looks like a pirate who just found a shitload of gold treasure.

I’m hit with the sudden awful thought that he might think this is just another average Thursday night for me. Like maybe hopping into bed with semi-strangers is par for the course, and this was nothing special.

I don’t want him to think that.

So I say, “I promise I don’t normally do this. Actually, I’ve never done this before.”

“Had s*x?”

I thump him on his chest. “You know what I mean, funny guy.”

Still grinning, he grabs me around the waist and rolls me to my back, keeping his c**k inside me. He settles his weight between my legs and leans down so our chests are pressed together. Then he kisses me deeply, holding my head in his big hands.

When we come up for air, he murmurs, “Lucky me.”

I wrap my legs around his back and my arms around his shoulders and sigh in contentment.

He nuzzles my neck, inhaling deeply into my hair, then exhaling with a noise of pleasure. He whispers, “I wanted to get you dry, but I ended up getting you even wetter, didn’t I?”

“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself.”

He chuckles. “I am, though. That was incredible.”

A little shiver of satisfaction runs through my body. Then I start to worry what I’m supposed to do next. Stay? Sleep? Put my wet clothes into his dryer and pace around in simmering embarrassment until I can run away?

He raises his head and stares down at me. “You’re spending the night.”

I blink in surprise. “Are you a mind reader or something?”

“No. Why?”

“Um. No reason.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I was just wondering if I should go home now.”

“I just told you that you’re spending the night. You can leave in the morning and have the rest of your life to worry that this was a mistake, but for tonight, you’re staying right here.”

He flexes his hips when he says “here,” letting me know he’s not done sexing me up yet.

“What if I want to leave?”

“You don’t.”

“You seem pretty sure of that.”

He kisses me softly on the lips. Smiling, he says, “I like it when I irritate you.”

“That’s unfortunate, because I like it when I’m not being irritated.”

“Your mouth gets all puckered and your nose wrinkles up. You look like a prissy little old lady.”

“Whoa, slow down with the compliments, Romeo! I’ll swoon hard and hit my head on something.”

“Know what I just realized?” he whispers, eyes burning.

I say tartly, “That your life is in danger?”

“That now I know what you sound like when you come.”

“So what about it?”

He lowers his head and bites my earlobe, then says gruffly, “So it’s my new favorite sound. I want to hear it again.”

Then he thrusts his hips, driving into me.

My moan is broken. Eyelids fluttering, I say, “How are you still hard?”

“I’m not done f*****g you yet, that’s how.”

“Oh, that reminds me. You promised you were going to make love to me, not f**k me.”

“Semantics.” He thrusts again.

I say breathlessly, “No, I remember. You said make love.”

“I said I’d give you what you need. Which is exactly what I’m doing.” He thrusts again, this time leaning down to suck hard on the side of my throat as he does it.

I moan softly, arching against him, tilting my head to give him better access to my neck as I rock my pelvis into his.

It makes him chuckle darkly. “See?”

Tugging on a lock of his hair, I whisper, “Time to shut up now, Aidan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, he snaps his hips, driving his hard c**k into me. He does it again when I shudder and moan. He keeps up the pace, f*****g me relentlessly and kissing me all over my neck and breasts, until I start to buck and cry out, clawing my fingernails into his shoulders.

His mouth next to my ear, he says in a guttural voice, “Is this what you need, baby? You like it rough? Or do you want me to recite some poetry and make you a cup of f*****g tea?”

“This! This!”

His laugh is so dark and pleased, it makes me shiver. I o****m listening to that laugh and wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

12

I

wake in dim gray morning light in Aidan’s arms.

My head rests on his chest. His heart thumps a slow, steady beat beneath my ear. He’s got both his big heavy arms wrapped around my body, holding me tight, even in sleep.

I take a moment to orient myself to this new version of reality where I’m waking up on a mattress on the floor with a man who lives over a bar and has more tattoos on his chest alone than everyone else I know has combined, and decide almost instantly that I like it.

Him, I mean.

I like him.

That surprises me. I’m not prone to liking people in general. I mildly distrust most people until I get to know them better, which is usually when I decide I don’t ever want to see them again.

Michael and I had that in common. A vague disappointment in and aversion to the human race as a whole. It’s a miracle he was so good at his job, considering he had to interact with so many people on a daily basis in his classroom.

Thinking about Michael sobers me. He’d be shocked if he could see me right now.

“What are you doing?” he’d cry, his brow creased in dismay. “The man probably doesn’t even have a college degree!”