Page 67 of To Her

The effects had taken about thirty minutes to kick in—a gradual warming that had started in my core and spread outward, a lightening of my limbs, a softening of the edges of reality. Colours had become more vibrant, sounds more textured, sensations more intense. The music had seemed to flow through me rather than around me, each beat matching the rhythm of my heart.

I'd found myself back on the dance floor, moving with a freedom I hadn't felt in months, maybe years. Every touch had been electric—Alex's hands on my waist, a stranger's arm brushing against mine, the fabric of my dress against my skin. I'd thrown my head back, laughing at nothing and everything, feeling truly alive for the first time since... since Con.

The thought of him had flitted through my mind without the usual accompanying pain. In my altered state, even memories of Con had seemed benign, just another part of my story rather than an open wound.

Alex had noticed the change in me, his eyes questioning as he'd watched me dance with abandoned joy. "You OK?" he'd shouted over the music, concern evident despite the volume.

"I'm perfect," I'd replied, and in that moment, it had been true. I'd pulled him closer, pressing my body against his, feeling the hard length of him through his jeans. "Take me home," I'd whispered in his ear, my tongue darting out to trace its shell.

He hadn't needed to be asked twice.

The taxi ride to his place had been a blur of wandering hands and hungry kisses, my dress hiked up around my waist as his fingers had found their way beneath my thong, stroking me to a state of desperate need. I'd reciprocated, palming him through his jeans, feeling him throb against my hand as I'd whispered all the things I wanted him to do to me.

By the time we'd stumbled through his door, we'd been half-undressed already, clothes discarded in a frantic trail from the entrance to his bedroom. He'd pushed me onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he'd taken in the sight of me—sprawled across his sheets in nothing but my heels and thong, my lipstick smeared, my pupils dilated from both arousal and chemicals.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he'd murmured, stripping off the last of his clothes to reveal his body—lean and toned, his cock standing proud against his stomach.

I'd spread my legs in invitation, too far gone to play coy. "Show me how much you want me."

He'd knelt between my thighs, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples until they'd hardened to sensitive peaks. Then he'd lowered his head, replacing histhumbs with his mouth, sucking and licking until I'd been arching off the bed, my hands tangled in his hair.

"Please," I'd gasped, not even sure what I was begging for—just more, more of everything.

He'd understood, trailing kisses down my stomach, over my hip bones, to the edge of my thong. With a wicked grin, he'd hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled it down my legs, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze.

"So wet for me," he'd murmured, his breath hot against my most sensitive flesh. And then his mouth had been on me, his tongue exploring every fold, every crevice, finding the bundle of nerves at my centre and focusing his attention there.

The combination of the drug and his skilled mouth had sent me spiralling toward orgasm embarrassingly quickly. I'd cried out, my thighs clamping around his head as waves of pleasure had crashed over me, leaving me trembling and gasping for breath.

But he hadn't given me time to recover. Before the aftershocks had even subsided, he'd been reaching for a condom, rolling it on with practiced ease before positioning himself at my entrance.

"Tell me you want this," he'd said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

"I want this," I'd replied, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I want you. Now."

He'd entered me in one smooth thrust, filling me completely, the sensation so intense in my heightened state that I'd nearly come again right then. He'd set a relentless pace, each thrust driving me higher, my nails raking down his back as I'd urged him on.

"Harder," I'd demanded, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Make me feel it."

He'd complied, his movements becoming more forceful, the headboard banging against the wall with each impact. I'd revelled in the roughness, in the pure physical sensation that drowned out all thought, all emotion except the building pressure of another orgasm.

When it had hit, it had been even more intense than the first—a full-body experience that had left me seeing stars, my inner walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He'd followed shortly after, his rhythm faltering as he'd groaned my name, his body tensing above me before collapsing onto my chest.

We'd lain there for a moment, both catching our breath, before he'd rolled off me and disposed of the condom. Then he'd pulled me against him, my back to his chest, his arm draped possessively over my waist.

"That was..." he'd started, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Yeah," I'd agreed, still floating on a cloud of chemical bliss and post-orgasmic glow.

We'd dozed for a while, but the night had been far from over. As the initial effects of the pill had begun to wane, I'd found myself craving more—more touch, more pleasure, more of the oblivion that came with losing myself in physical sensation.

I'd woken him with my mouth, taking him from soft to rock hard in minutes, enjoying the way he'd moaned and cursed as I'd worked him with lips and tongue. Then I'd straddled him, sinking down onto his length with a satisfied sigh, setting a pace that suited my needs—slow at first, savouring the fullness, then faster as my desire had built again.

He'd watched me with hooded eyes, his hands on my hips guiding my movements, occasionally reaching up to pinch my nipples or pull me down for a deep, messy kiss. I'd taken my pleasure from him again and again, riding him until my thighs had burned with the effort, until we'd both been slick with sweat and gasping for breath.

When we'd finally exhausted ourselves, the sky outside his window had been lightening with the first hints of dawn. We'd fallen asleep tangled together, my head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath my ear.

I'd woken hours later to sunlight streaming through the blinds, my head surprisingly clear given the night's excesses. Alex had still been asleep beside me, his face relaxed in slumber, looking younger and more vulnerable than he ever did awake.

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