I’m going to buy Clover all the treats in the world.
I will be forever in her doggie debt for introducing me to this godlike man standing before me. Maddox is thin and slightly lanky but toned as hell—the perfect size for my vertically challenged, petite self.
“Holy fuck, Autumn,” he murmurs.
This lingerie never fails to impress. Men love cherry-red lace. It’s the hottest, most predictable thing in the world.
I let out a giggle, deciding not to return the praise, even though I definitely could. Maddox is hot as fuck. Still, I’d prefer not to turn tonight into something sappy.
Trading compliments is too lovey-dovey for my tastes.
Maddox strides toward me, and I feel a momentary pang of sympathy for Clover, who’s about to witness her owner getting it on in his studio apartment. Poor thing.
By the time I’m done with him, she’ll probably designate the bathroom as her new sleeping area. But just for tonight.
It doesn’t matter how magical that first kiss was. This is a one-night stand. I swore off fuck buddies after Dylan, and anything past that is unfathomable.
Well, maybe it isn’t, but I refuse to fathom it.
Maddox leads me to his bed, and we collapse onto silky sheets and fluffy blankets.
As our lips move in sync, he unhooks my bra and slowly pushes it aside. His lips trail down from my lips to my neck to my chest, where they linger. I squirm beneath him, desperate for an end to the teasing.
Just as I’m about to take matters into my own hands, he shifts his body up to kiss my lips and immediately slides back down to descend on my breasts.
And I lose my mind. His mouth is hot and wet and so fucking talented.
His lips pulse, teasing me and turning me on to the point that a pool is forming between my legs. I can’t help but moan when his tongue flicks my nipple while he caresses the other with his thumb.
I rake my fingers down his back, ready to start begging, but finally, he slips beside me, only to slide his hand beneath my panties. I return the favor, reaching down his briefs to palm his erection, eliciting a groan.
He’s rock-hard. I’m drenched. It’s time to fuck.
“Do you have a condom?” I whisper.
He fumbles around in his nightstand, tears open the crinkling package, and slides it on all sexily.
I wait for him on the bed, having kicked off my panties somewhere that will be tough to find in the dark, but whatever. I gaze at the man who’s about to fuck my brains out.
Our bodies collide, sparking electricity.
He leaves no space between us as he slowly slides into me, pulling a gasp from my lips because he fills me perfectly. Like I’m a lock and he’s a key. Not that anyone can unlock my lukewarm heart, obviously.
Maddox explores my mouth with his tongue as his hips start rolling into me. I wrap my legs around his waist and let him control the pace with slow but deep thrusts.
They’re sensual, almost meaningful, telling me that this isn’t just a fuck.
I kind of like it.
Every one of his movements is deliberate as if he knows what’s going to make me come undone.
We don’t need words because we’re in tune, synchronized, two halves of a whole. Losing my inhibitions, I let Maddox ravish me. I accept his kisses and match his growls with moans.
Pressure builds, tightening the knot in my core.
I climb higher and higher, with each roll of his hips pushing me closer to the edge until I unravel beneath him. My climax is a shockwave, spreading over my body so forcefully it sucks the air from my lungs.
The sensation of Maddox sliding in and out of my trembling self carries me down from the euphoria I’m suspended in.
“Autumn,” he murmurs, and before I can stop myself, I’m murmuring his name too because he’s all that’s on my mind. Everything else in the world has faded away.
“Will you go on top?” he whispers.
We roll over, and I begin to raise and lower my hips, ready to ride this man all the way to another orgasm. Maddox’s fingers dig into my hips and travel up my sides, leaving trails of sparks in their wake.
Powerless to withstand the bursts of pleasure overwhelming me, I collapse against his hard chest. All I can do is bury my head in his neck and deafen him with my moans and screams as he fucks me from below.
I take in his rapid breathing and low groans, listening for his body’s reactions to mine between the noises that escape my lips. His heart pounds against my bare chest, and I know that he feels mine too.
We’re so close like a magnet is connecting us, and we miss nothing. It’s like we’re fused—one being, one soul, one energy.
Maddox’s movements pick up speed, and somehow, I know that he wants my lips on his when he comes.
I shift myself to connect in a kiss, and we fuck each other with our tongues until he grunts and explodes into the condom.
Maddox slides out of me, but I don’t move.
I can’t, and not just because his arms are locked around my back. Some invisible force ties us together. I need to be close to him, to be in his arms, the way I did at the park.
I feel him shift beneath me and seize the moment when I’m temporarily removed from my trance. Blinking rapidly to snap myself out of the fog that settled around us when we fucked, I slip onto my side.
Communication is more than I can handle after that rendezvous, so my question comes out in weird, breathy bursts. “Where’s…bathroom? Where’s your bathroom?”
Maddox merely points.
I stumble into the bathroom, blinding myself with the light, and stare in the mirror. I’m sweaty. My makeup is smudged to the point that my lipstick and eyeliner have swirled together on the tip of my nose.
My neck is red from Maddox’s kisses. I’m a hot mess.
After ten minutes of scrubbing my face with toilet paper so as to not stain one of Maddox’s pearly white facecloths, I brush my teeth with my finger and rejoin Maddox on his incredibly cozy bed.
He wraps a heavy arm around my shoulders, and a sense of calm washes over me, probably because of the mind-blowing orgasm.
I try to ignore the fact that the calmness disappears when he pushes himself to his feet, saying something about cleaning up.
I should leave. I should get a rideshare and go home.
But this mattress is really comfortable.
Also, I don’t know where my clothes are.
Maddox ruffles his messy golden-brown hair, grinning like a fool in the dim light as he settles into bed beside me. “That…” he starts.
“Yeah,” I interrupt in a whisper.
I don’t want to debrief. I just want to end this internal battle between tethering myself to the bed and pulling myself back to my apartment.
Maddox decides for me, settling beneath the sheets and positioning his arm at a ninety-degree angle so I can curl up in his warmth again. Sleep overpowers me the second my head hits the pillow and my leg drapes over his.
A soft bark pulls me out of a weird dream about interning in a sunken pirate ship. Yawning, I try to reach for my phone to check the time, but I can’t move. I’m caged in by a very warm, very heavy arm.
Maddox.
Slowly, I slip out from under his arm and tiptoe around the small apartment, picking up discarded clothes. I then locate my phone and purse, slip on my sandals, and sneak out the door.
Of course, it’s raining, like the universe decided to cleanse me of my sins. Not the sex sins. The sleepover sins. Because I don’t do that. I don’t snuggle or stay over. I fuck and go.
We weren’t even up late last night.
I could have easily snagged a rideshare. I probably could have walked.
Casey and Grayson are still asleep, probably because it’s five thirty in the morning, but there’s no chance I’ll zonk out again, so I plop down on the couch and reflect on my wrongdoings. And Maddox.
I need coffee and a single friend to set my head straight. Unfortunately, the entire United States is asleep right now.
Including Maddox.
But that’s a good thing.
Better than exchanging an awkward goodbye and pretending like I want to go on another date.
My traitorous heart pangs.
I don’t do relationships. Hookups are fun. Feelings, not so much.
Between my internship and classes this semester, I don’t have time to cuddle or go on cute dates or recover from another broken heart.
Hopefully, once my head clears from that incredible sex, reminding myself won’t hurt so much.
“Someone didn’t come home last night!” Casey sings.
I wonder if she’d still be so excited if she could see her boyfriend glaring at me from behind her. For reasons I don’t understand, Grayson has taken the end of my arrangement with Dylan just as badly as my former fuck buddy.
“Yep. Got laid,” I reply.
“Are you texting Dylan?”
“No,” he lies.
“Why bother? There’s no reason to get him all fired up,” I point out.
Grayson just shrugs, forgetting that he denied texting his friend just ten seconds ago.
He’s seriously lucky his dad is a Cordray College professor; otherwise, he never would have been accepted to college.
“How was it?” Casey asks.
I recline on the couch. “Supreme.”
“I can’t believe you stayed over,” she comments.
I’m onto her make-Autumn-like-a-boy plan. She’s been trying since I told her the Brandon story last year. “He wore me out,” I explain. Better to nip her hopes in the bud.
She says something else, but it doesn’t register in my ears because my phone buzzes with a text from Maddox. Just seeing his name on my screen perks me up in a way the two mugs of coffee I chugged didn’t.
He’d love to take me out again. Not fuck again. I mean, that would probably happen, but he wants the date part.
An actual whimper escapes my lips.
I’m not going to let him know.
