I've known Amber for as long as I can remember. She was the daughter of one of my dad's old friends--the kind of family friendship born from cookouts, borrowed tools, and holiday cards signed with love from people you barely knew.
We grew up side by side. Summers at the pool, birthday parties, awkward braces and all. I saw her when she was a gangly tomboy with grass-stained knees and I watched her become the kind of beautiful that made conversation hard. The kind that ruined every other girl for me without even trying.
That didn't stop just because our parents still called each other "Uncle" and "Aunt."
It sure as hell didn't stop when I started wanting her in ways I had no business admitting out loud. I'd been trying to get inside Amber's pants since high school. Quietly and unsuccessfully.
Now here we were, last year of college, and what started as a big group road trip to Savannah had slowly unraveled as everyone else bailed. Exams, internships, breakups... life got in the way.
But not for us.
It was just me and Amber now. Five days. Five thousand miles. From the Pacific to the Atlantic. Coast to coast, just the two of us in a beat-up Civic.
I'm surprised she didnt back out too. I didn't mind though. In fact, I might've wanted it this way all along.
She showed up that morning in cutoffs and a faded band tee, oversized sunglasses and a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Hair in a messy bun. No makeup.
"You sure you're ready to spend five days trapped in a car with me?" she asked, smirking like she already knew the answer.
I grabbed her bag, tossed it in the trunk.
"Sure, as long as you don't snore the whole time I am driving."
"Deal. But I'm picking snacks. No weird beef jerky this time."
We slid into the car. I started the engine. As we pulled away from the Santa Monica coastline, the sun lit up her legs like they were carved from honey, smooth, golden, impossible to ignore. The sunlight kissed every curve and all I could think was how unfair it was for someone to look that good doing nothing at all. This was either going to be a really good or a really long trip--and probably both.
We stopped for gas and bad coffee at a gas station in Barstow. She bought Twizzlers and sunglasses shaped like hearts, then climbed back into the car and unwrapped the candy with slow fingers. She took a bite and pulled the candy between her lips, eyes on the road but fully aware of how she looked. Her tongue flicked out, catching the sugar at the corner of her mouth. I tried not to stare, but her lips were shiny, sticky red--and I was already thinking about them in ways I shouldn't.
"What?" she asked, smirking without turning her head. "You look like you're watching a slow-motion car crash."
"Just... surprised you didn't get Sour Patch instead."
She laughed, deep and low. "Too easy. I like something I can work with."
She slid another piece between her teeth. And I kept my hands on the wheel, trying not to think about what else she might be willing to work with.
Eventually the desert gave way to city lights just after dark, neon flickering up over the horizon. Vegas always felt fake to me--too bright, too loud, too desperate--but Amber lit up the second we hit the Strip. Her eyes widened, mouth parted slightly, and she leaned forward in her seat like she was afraid to blink and miss something.
"God, look at it," she said, pressing her hand to the glass. "It's ridiculous. I love it."
I watched the lights, but more than that, I watched her.
"You planning on getting wild tonight?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She looked over her shoulder with a slow grin. "Depends on how well you behave."
We checked into the Cosmo around 8. Amber insisted it was the one place she had to stay. She said the view was insane and the bathroom mirrors were made for good selfies. I didn't argue. I wasn't about to deny her anything when she looked that happy.
Our room was high up, with a balcony that looked out over the Bellagio fountains. She stepped outside immediately, arms out, letting the warm Vegas air kiss her bare skin.
"This feels right," she said, grinning back at me, her eyes catching the gold of the setting sun like they were made to reflect it.
She disappeared into the bathroom with her bag, told me to be ready in thirty. I watched SportsCenter on mute and tried not to think about her getting dressed inches away. The water ran, the hairdryer kicked on. Every now and then I caught the rustle of fabric, a zipper, the quiet hum of her voice as she sang to herself.
When she finally emerged, I forgot how to breathe.
Short black dress. Bare shoulders. Heels that made her legs look like they went on forever. The fabric hugged her hips like it had been poured on. Her skin glowed, her lips shimmered, and her eyes had that dangerous spark that only showed when she was fully aware of her own effect.
I felt myself harden instantly, the kind of response I couldn't will away. But I played it cool. I had to. She couldn't know how badly I wanted her to drop to her knees right then and there.
She twirled slowly, deliberately, her ass giving a slight jiggle at the end of the spin.
"Well?" she asked, head tilted, watching me with a knowing smile.
"You clean up... nice," I muttered, voice tight.
She smirked. "Good. Let's go."
The club was everything I expected and still too much. Lights like lightning. Bass that pounded in your chest. Sweat-slick bodies pressing against each other in time with the music.
Amber didn't hesitate. She pulled me into the heart of it, hands already on me, dancing like we weren't supposed to survive the night.
Her back found my chest, smooth and warm through her thin black dress, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles that made it hard to think. The dress clung to her with every motion, sliding up her thighs just enough to tease, to taunt, to show me exactly what I wasn't supposed to want.
I placed my hands on her waist, cautious at first, but she reached back without looking and guided them lower--over the curve of her hips, just above the hem of her dress. My fingers skimmed bare skin and I swallowed hard, heat rushing through me so fast it made my hands shake.
I got hard. Fast. Obvious.
I hated how quickly it happened--how there was no hiding it.
She was pressed up against me too close, too right, and I couldn't make myself pull away. I told myself maybe she'd had too much to drink. Maybe she wouldn't remember. Maybe it wouldn't mean anything in the morning.
Her ass rolled back into me, slow and sure, like she felt it already.
The lights spun above us. Her dress slid higher with every grind. The silk of it bunched at her hips and I could feel the heat of her through the thin barrier left between us. Her hair brushed my jaw as she leaned back, her mouth just close enough to graze my cheek.
"You're tense," she murmured, playful and low.
I laughed it off, barely.
"Sorry."
"Don't be," she said, dragging her nails lightly down my arm. "Honestly... I kinda like it."
She went right back to dancing after that like it was nothing, like she hadn't just commented on her body grinding against my hard-on.
***
She collapsed onto the bed, one heel still on, the other somewhere lost in the hallway.
"My feet are dead," she groaned. "You're a terrible dance partner, by the way."
"You were dancing for both of us."
"Damn right I was."
She rolled onto her side, looking at me with heavy eyes. Her dress had ridden up just enough to make me lose my train of thought.
"Did you have fun?" I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She nodded. "More than I should've."
"Why 'should've'?"
She didn't answer right away. Just reached out and tugged my shirt, pulling me down beside her.
"I forget how easy it is to feel good with you," she said, softer now.
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. Just lay there.
I was close enough to kiss her. I didn't
I fell asleep eventually and then came the dream.
Her legs wrapped around me. Smooth, strong, tight. We moved together like we had on the dance floor, but slower now, stripped of everything but skin and heat. No clothes. No space. Just friction and breath and that look in her eyes--half-closed, glazed, locked on mine like I was the only real thing in the world.
Her hands fisted the sheets, her mouth open letting out a soft moan. We moved in rhythm, in sync, like we'd been doing this for years instead of me just imagining it.
She said my name in the dream--not loud, not sweet. Raw. When I woke up, I was hard, breathless, heart pounding in the dark.
The room was silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner. Outside, the Strip still burned with life, but in here, it was still.
She was curled beneath the covers, her back to me, her hair spilled across the pillow.
I didn't sleep again. Instead i went into the restoom and used my hands to find that ryhtm again. I imagined her body moving with me, her breath on my skin, lips wrapped around me tightly instead of my own hands.
My hands were rough. but I was slick with precum. I worked my hands faster and harder, trying to get it to feel as good as the dream. My muscles were tense, my breathing heavy.
I wanted my to be on the dance floor again. Her body against mine. Only instead of hiding my erection, I wanted to slide it into her. I wanted feel her wrap around me. I wanted to fuck her brains out.
My balls were tight. My breathing was ragged. I came in streaks onto the mirror. It felt like I was coming forever, but it was only a minute, maybe two. I collapsed holding myself up with the sink. After I finally got my breathing under control, I washed the mirror off, showered and took a deep breath.
When I came back to the room Amber stretched under the covers with a quiet sigh, hair tousled, skin golden in the early light.
Amber yawned and pushed herself up on one elbow. "You look like hell," she said, eyes still hazy with sleep.
"Didn't sleep much."
She smirked. "Nightmares?"
I shrugged. "Something like that."
She rolled out of bed, blanket falling away to reveal the smooth curve of her hip where her tank had ridden up. She didn't bother adjusting it. Didn't seem to notice, or maybe she did and just didn't care.
"I remember most of last night," she said, padding barefoot across the room. "The music. The lights. You trying not to enjoy dancing with me too much."
I looked up, met her gaze.
"I wasn't trying."
