The images flashing in her dreams were effectively an extension of the night she'd had. Skin and tongues and sharp hazel eyes boring into hers. She could feel herself growing hot with need, whining and whimpering beneath him.
Her eyes blinked open, slowly, then a shudder ran down her spine as she gasped.
"Morning," Tom murmured shortly against her cunt then returned to lapping at her pussy like he couldn't get enough.
She moaned long and low, head falling back against her pillow. Her thighs wrapped around his neck, the balls of her feet resting on his shoulder blades. She arched up against the hot wetness of his mouth desperately. She hadn't even woken all the way up yet and she was already so close.
How long had he been eating her out? She gripped at the sheets, then at his hair, forcing his face against her. He moaned, hips thrusting into the mattress as she came with his name on her lips.
He let her relax. She was so grateful for that. As she caught her breath, he lay down next to her again, propping himself up with one arm. He licked his lips and leaned in, brushing them against her cheek.
"Good alarm?" He teased. She managed to laugh despite her dazed state.
"God, yes," she breathed. "Best part of waking up."
He laughed as well, sitting back up. "Want coffee?"
She stared up at him with wide eyes. She reached out to touch his chest gently. "You're an angel," she whispered. He grinned.
"I'll take it," he said with a nod and hopped off of the bed. She watched, realizing he was still completely naked, cheeks heating up. The reality of what they'd done last night was suddenly hitting her and when he'd walked out of the room she immediately pressed her palms against her face and stifled a groan of despair.
She'd had sex with a guy she hadn't even known a week -- that she didn't really know at all. A guy who was dangerous and obviously not good for anything but this sort of hookup. Yet the memories of last night set her ablaze as she recalled them. The things he'd said, the way he'd fucked her... it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. Like he'd read her stories.
But that was impossible. The smut she wrote was always kept away. She didn't write it in public, instead keeping it reserved for nondescript notebooks that she kept in old milk crates in her attic. She had tons of them, completely full of all of her filthiest desires. Things that had passed her mind once that she'd been curious enough to research and write about, things she ached for late at night like someone holding her down and owning her completely. There was a lot she'd written about that she really didn't want to share with any one else, so there was no way he could have read them. No one could have.
She shook her head and sighed. She felt like crying, but she shut her eyes tightly to fight tears back. She lay there for a while, just contemplating the situation she was in and how this was too surreal, how could this possibly be happening. The smell of coffee wafted into the room, alerting her to Tom's presence in the doorway.
He'd wrapped a towel around his hips and was walking back towards the bed, two mugs in hand. "That was fast," she commented, blinking.
He shrugged. "Keurigs take, like, what? Two seconds?"
She supposed so. She'd probably left it on; she had a terrible habit of forgetting. She took a mug from him and inhaled the aroma. Traces of sweetness hit her and she hummed contentedly as she took a careful sip. There was no milk, just a teaspoon or two of sugar as far as she could tell. She preferred it this way. Warmth built in her.
"You got it right on the first try," she teased, peering up at him over her mug.
"Great minds think alike," he responded, clinking her mug with his. She could see that his coffee was also black, likely with the same amount of sugar.
She giggled and pulled her knees to her chest. Sunlight poured in through her windows, her thin orange curtains cutting the color, basking the room in an orange glow. It was one of the few things she really liked about the house; waking up in it to the ambient lighting. Tom seemed to appreciate it too, sitting next to her like this was a regular morning for them.
"So, uh," she chuckled awkwardly. "That was pretty fun."
He looked like he wanted to laugh at her but didn't, just giving her a lopsided smile instead. "Yeah?"
She pouted and slapped at his arm lightly. He feigned pain. "This is all new for me, alright?" She huffed. "I just... I don't know, it was just really, really good."
"Good enough that you'd want to do it again?" He asked intently. She nodded in spite of the part of her brain telling her that that was a very bad idea.
"Yes," she said instead, with certainty, then added with an air of nonchalance. "I'm glad you want to."
"I'm glad you do too." He was beaming and it was so attractive to her, she felt like she was at a loss. She'd gone from meeting this man and fearing for her life to snuggling up to him, eager to see and touch him. Barely any time had passed. He reached up with a free hand and brushed it against the side of her neck, fingers curling in the spiraled tresses at the nape of her neck.
"I know I've said it, like, a thousand times... but I really haven't ever done anything like this before." She motioned to the two of them, nude and lounging in her bed. "I've never slept with someone I wasn't in a relationship with. So I'm not really sure what the protocol is here." She let out a nervous laugh. He rubbed against the back of her neck comfortingly.
"Whatever you want," he said. "I feel like I've been pretty clear about what I want."
Had he been? "To fuck me?"
"To have you," he corrected. She briefly thought back to the previous night, before he'd finally stretched her open on his dick. His genuine tone when he took in her body and praised her. She held her breath without thinking as he held her gaze.
"Why?" She asked, suddenly confounded. There was no reason for him to be so invested, she thought.
His look shifted a little but she couldn't read the expression. All she could discern was a flicker of sadness across his features. "Because you're you." He said tenderly, as if it were obvious.
She shook her head. "But you don't know me."
He looked hurt and it just made her more confused. He parted his lips to speak, then stopped himself, only to finally say: "I want to."
She shifted on her haunches uncomfortably, looking down at her coffee. That hadn't been the response he'd been wanting, apparently, because he continued. "Is that not what you want?"
She shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, glancing up at him again. "I've only known you for a few days."
He sucked in a sharp breath, brows cinched together. He paused, released it, then nodded. "Fair," was all he said before drinking down the coffee like it was one of the glasses of wine they'd had last night. He looked at her again, the visage of brief pain gone from his face, replaced by a cool look. "Are you free today?"
She blinked at him. "Uh... just getting writing done."
"Are you on a deadline?"
"Not really."
