Lyle pulls out and snaps back in. There’s nothing gentle about his thrusts, and I buck my hips up to meet him each time, desperate for more of him. I want to take him in as deep as I can, and my body greedily sucks at his cock, clenching tightly to make it more difficult for him to leave. Sweat is pouring down my face and my hands drop to the bed so I can clutch the covers.
Then black washes momentarily across my vision as pleasure explodes within me. Lyle has angled his thrusts differently, and he’s hit a spot that makes me cry out, too overwhelmed to even form words.
He does it again and again, and my movements become clumsier as I struggle to keep up, too close to the edge to do anything other than babble and hold on. Lyle is panting over me, and I feel so hot that I’m going to burst.
With one last strike, I tip over. Spots race across my eyes and I throw my head back with a guttural cry as my body clenches tightly around Lyle. He thrusts three more times and then he shudders, too. We ride out our orgasms together, his hands tight around my hips.
Slowly, the world begins to return to normal. I’m panting, trying to catch my breath. I know we haven’t been in this room for very long, but the sex just now was so intense that I can barely remember what I was doing before I met Lyle. I feel him slowly slide out of me, the movement sending sharp sparks through my tired body, and then he crashes down beside me with a tired groan. I look over at him, meeting his hazel eyes, and he smiles at me.
“Wow,” he says.
I can’t help but laugh. Simply saying “wow” feels like a vast understatement. Everything that just happened was so amazing and intimate. I almost wish that we could have carried on for a lot longer than that, teasing each other and chasing each other to the brink.
“Are you staying?” Lyle asks hopefully.
“Well, you paid for the room,” I say teasingly. “Seems a waste not to use it.”
Lyle grins and we scoot up to the pillows, sliding underneath the covers. We snuggle down in them and my arm brushes against him. There’s a lot that I want to say, or that I should say after all that. Maybe ask him a bit more about himself, or why he was at Grande, or even if he’ll still be here in the morning.
But a wave of exhaustion hits me, and my eyes slip closed. I’m too tired to wonder about any of that right now. I can deal with it all in the morning.
My alarm clock starts me awake.
I gasp and sit up, momentarily confused about where I am. My head is pounding and I remember that I had a little too much to drink last night while I lamented my problems with my father. Then I feel someone shifting beside me, and I look over to see a man in the same bed as me.
I almost panic. Then memory returns. This is Lyle. Last night, he had seemed perfect as we danced together and then rushed to a hotel, needing to touch each other even more. Our clothes are strewn around the room and Lyle is rubbing his head with a frown, looking about as wrecked as I feel.
“Ow,” he groans. He squints at me. “How do you feel, Amanda?”
He remembers my name too, which is good. I give him a half smile.
“Like someone kicked me in the head,” I reply. I glance at my phone with a frown. “Why is my alarm going… Shit!”
Lyle starts as I leap out of bed.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.
“I’m going to be late for work!” I exclaim. “And my father – also my boss – wanted to speak to me this morning! I’ve still got to get home and get changed!”
“Want a ride?” Lyle asks, sitting up.
“No, it’s fine,” I say instantly, shaking my head; I’m already dressed and I can’t wait for him to get ready too. I’m already dialing the number for a cab. They pick up at the third ring. “Hello? I need to order a taxi.”
I give them the name for the hotel, a little proud that I actually remember, and hang up. I grab my bag.
I’m about to rush out the door when I glance at Lyle. He’s still sitting there, watching me. Last night was absolutely amazing. I don’t regret a single moment, despite the two of us being strangers. I hesitate and then rush toward him.
“Give me your phone,” I demand.
Bemused, he unlocks his phone and hands it over. Quickly, tilting the screen so that he can see what I’m doing, I put my number into his phone.
“Call or text me later!” I say.
Then I’m gone, leaving him staring after me. I would love to stay and talk about it, but I still need to go home and get changed into something a little more reasonable for work. Thankfully, I’m not very far from my apartment, and the taxi arrives quickly.
As soon as I enter my apartment, I grab a shirt and skirt from my cupboard. I glance at my watch, twitchy and impatient. Is there enough time for a shower? There’s going to have to be; I stink of alcohol. My father will notice straight away.
“Shit,” I huff, stripping quickly and hopping in the shower.