The moral of the story is: long-distance relationships just aren't for me.
The silken sheets caress me into wakefulness. The cool morning breeze drifting in through the window gives me goosebumps. I blink the sleep away from my eyes and take in the smell: the entire room smells like last night's booze. The smell of sex still lingers around me, surrounds me like a silky veil.
The man sleeping next to me is called Roberto: he's a friend from work, quick with a joke and very good with his hands. He's lying on his back, sleeping soundly. His hand is resting on my buttocks. When I try to move it so I can slip away, he shudders, squeezes and then slowly lets go. The way he rakes his nails over the fabric, teasing my flesh sends shivers up my spine. I'm still sore from last night where his teeth grazed my neck, my thighs, my nipples. I'd be lying if I said I won't miss him.
The bed creaks something fierce when I stand on my knees. The mattress gives way under me like quicksand. I bite my lip and stay absolutely still. Roberto doesn't seem to have noticed yet. I roll to the edge of the bed, put my feet on the ground. My phone's right there, splayed across the carpet.
Oh my God, I think to myself in horror did I turn it off last night? After talking to Kyle?
Last night comes back to me: Roberto and I on the dance floor, his body against mine, his wands wandering over my stomach, up my breasts. I can feel him against my back, his manhood swelling between my buttocks. Kyle's talking to me in hushed, soft whispers. "Just two more weeks, babe' he reassures me and I'm trying to keep my voice low as Roberto's hands move down my body exploring my curves. Right now, I feel like the worst human being in the world but back then with all those Margaritas in me and his hands parting my legs, exploring my honeypot between my legs, trailing down from my nub across my slit...
"Pull yourself together damnit" I tell myself. Roberto stirs behind me. No more time for sneakiness. All I have to do is grab my panties really quick, get my clothes and then I can get dressed in the bathroom and leave.
I'm bending down to grab my blue striped thong when I feel the back of Roberto's hand caressing my back and I know he's got me. The way his rugged knuckles ffel against my spine, the way he moves so softly like he did last night.
"Good morning." he tells me in the same gruff tone he whispered in my ear last night when he entered me. My knees turn into jelly. Time for the 'devil-would-care' act.
"Hey." I say, biting my lip. His fingers move down across my spine, trace the small of my back. "Sorry I woke you up but I got work to do." His hand shoots out, grasps my wrist. He hardly puts any pressure on it, but it pins me down on the spot.
"It's Sunday." he says softly and I just melt inside. His green eyes transfix me to the spot. I used to think what I'd do, if I ever found myself in this position: I'd rehearsed all the 50 essential 'Let Him Go' lines from Cosmo; practiced them in the mirror when I was in college, just in case I ever found myself forced to walk the walk of shame. But right here, looking into Roberto's eyes, it feels kind of liberating to know that all these 'modern girl' tips are garbage in real life.
"It's just...I mean, Kyle...he's probably worried sick..." I'm muttering and Roberto gets up, still naked from last night, smelling of booze and stale cigarette smoke, the red lines still imprinted across his chest where I raked my nails across his body, my lipstick smeared across his neck. He puts his hand around my waist, pulls me against him and lies me down across the bed. I can feel his toned, wiry muscles against my flesh. He's still warm.
"Shhh." he whispers, his finger against his lips and my heart skips a beat. His hands move down my chest, cupping my breasts, kneading the flesh. His fingers roll my nipples softly, expertly. His lips brush mine, still chaffed from last night. I fight back, just for a second.
"It's just..." I begin to protest but I'm kissing him before I know better. Our tongues dance a brief tango. His teeth graze my lower lip, bite softly into it. A tiny bit of pain, then a gentle kiss. The man plays me like a cheap violin. I part my legs for him, wrap them around his waist. "This is wrong..." I moan as I feel his welling manhood against me, sliding across my slit, the entire length teasing my nub, sliding from tip to base. I shiver and grip the sheets. I want him inside me right now. I feel his tip enter me, tease my opening and I brace myself for him. Secretly, I wish he'd do it: let me feel him one last time, get it over and done with, end it so I can slip back to my little remorse and then forget about it. Over and done. Wham bam thank you Ma'am.
Roberto grins knowingly. He can read me like an open book. He pulls away at the last second, teasing. The sound that comes out of me is a tiny, animal whine: the denial's driving me crazy with desire but I can't help but be mad at him. Robarto kisses his way down my neck, grasps my breasts, mashes them together. He sucks at my nipples, nibbles at them. They're still tender from last night, but his hot breath feel soothing. His tongue laps at them, tracing my aureolae. He makes me wetter than I've ever been before. His lips smack, let go of the flesh with an audible pop, teeth sink into my flesh once again. Alternating pleasure for just that tiny amount of pain, driving me near the edge.
"Please..." I whimper as his hands move down my body, cup my behind in his hands. He sinks his nails inside the flesh, raking across it, spreading me wide. I wince in pain. I'm still raw from where he smacked me last night, when I let him ride me like an animal on the bed, biting into the pillow to keep myself from howling as he plowed me. His fingers trail up the smooth curve where my hips and my behind meet, parts my lips wide for him. I can feel every vein on his member sliding across me and I want him more than ever now. "Please tell me you've got protection." I whisper, the eyes rolling to the back of my head but I know I don't really care if he does or not I just want it so bad it hurts. When he slips inside me again, teasing my entrance, his manhood dipping into my honeypot a jolt of electricity shoots up all over my body. He's got me right where he wants me.
The phone vibrates beside on the floor, the muffled text sound ringing across the carpet. My hands reach out to get it, but move down his back at the last second, grasping his buttocks in my hands, squeezing the firm flesh. I want him to do it. I want to feel him fill me. Another inch slides inside me and I welcome him gladly, want it more than anything else in the world. When he pulls out again my eyes go wide and I bite my lip. I know exactly what he's going to say.
"You have to beg for it..." he whispers in my ear, kissing down my neck. The phone rings again, another text message. Who could it possibly be at this hour? Why won't someone come and save me? I've juggled CEOs and I've stared down uppity prosecutors but this man right now has me wrapped around his little finger, dangling me on a string wrapped around my neck. I open my mouth to speak, swaying my hips against him. I make the kind of noises I never made with Kyle.