We slow again, and my body sways with the turn and I see we’re on my street.
The anticipation has been building inside my core all day.
First it was the anticipation of seeing him. Wondering what he’d be wearing. How he’d look.
Then I saw him. And since then, it’s been the anticipation of getting him out of those clothes. Getting my hands on all those muscles. On all thoseinches.
I wish we could’ve danced, but I was too busy and lost track of time. I’m not good at dancing, it just would’ve been nice to get my hands on him sooner. Then again, I might not’ve been able to stop.
Axel shifts in his seat as we pull up my driveway, and I finally drop my hand. I don’t want this nice teenager to catch me groping my date and have it be all weird.
My door is being pulled open before I even realize that Axel’s gotten out of the car.
Gripping his extended hand, I let him haul me up, and grin remembering when he asked for my help at the table.
The beep of the car locking follows us as Axel guides me to the front door.
“Sorry we didn’t get to dance,” I tell him, as though he might also be bummed about it.
He grunts in reply, and I have no idea what that means but I find myself smiling anyways.
I know everyone reacts differently to alcohol, but I’ve never met someone who gets this quiet when they’re drunk. If it weren’t for the unusual looseness in his shoulders and lowered lids of his eyes, I’d think he was angry, not drunk. But he’s doing those things, so I know he’s intoxicated.
Axel maneuvers me in front of himself, so I can unlock the door. But he hardly gives me room for the key, let alone room for thought with his body pressed flush against my back. A memorable bulge nudging the small of my back.
My fingers tremble around the key as Axel’s hands grip my waist. Holding me tighter. Crowding in closer.
“Hurry, Baby.” His words are low and gravelly, and I can feel them crawl across my skin.
“I’m trying,” I grind back against him, just as I put the key into the slot.
We don’t stop.
Not at the threshold.
Not in the hallway.
Not until we reach my bed.
Axel’s hands gather in the fabric of my dress, “Next time,” he murmurs as he tugs it up and over my head.
“What’s next time?” I ask, but he’s not listening.
His hands close over my bra, cupping my breasts. Even through the padded material I know his palms can feel my tight nipples.
But he doesn’t linger. His hands slide around my sides, unhooking my bra.
His next movements are a blur.
Tearing away my panties.
Kicking off his own clothing.
Half tossing me onto the bed. Crawling over me. Lowering his weight on to me.
His hips press down, and my legs automatically widen, making room for him between my thighs.
Axel’s mouth drops to mine and our lips seal together.