Page 30 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
Rose
I’m not hung over.So that’s something.
Vance snores, looking sexy as hell sprawled out on his back, one arm over his head.
That’s something too.
I would’ve thought, in the cold light of day, I’d regret my decision to come home with him last night. Or at least my laziness to not vamoose after he wrung the fifth orgasm from my body in the wee hours of the morning.
But I don’t. Instead I shiver as a long-lost orgasmic aftershock runs through my body. I close my eyes and enjoy the superpower of orgasm muscle memory that only surfaces after a stellar bout of sexy times.
Well done, Vance. Well done.
Rolling toward the nightstand, I look for a clock. Nothing but a lamp. But seeing as the sunlight’s soft outside, it’s probably early. I can sneak out and Uber my way to Flynn and Jackie’s, where I left my car before “girls’ night.” Catch some more sleep in their guest room or just head to the city.
Hashtag walk of shame time.
I hang over the side of the bed and swat at the floor, hoping my phone’s somewhere down there, all while wondering if I can even get an Uber this early in the suburbs.
The snoring comes to an abrupt stop, and Vance rolls toward me, throwing his arm over my waist and pulling me into his morning erection. “You up?”
“Well, it’s clear thatyouare.”
He laughs, the shake of his body doing great things for the long and hard appendage rubbing against my ass.
Wanting to stay, but not wanting to cross any lines about what this is, I shift to the edge of the bed. “I better get going.”
He lets me slip out of his grasp but sits up when I stand. “Why?”
I glance around the bedroom, looking for my clothes. “It’s easier this way. I’ll just go to Jackie and Flynn’s before they wake up and tell them I was there all night and they just didn’t notice.” I find my panties and pull them up.
“But why?”
I ignore the sexy morning rasp in his voice and snatch my jeans off the floor. “Are you only thinking with your small brain this morning?”
He looks down at the erection popping a tent in the sheets, then back at me, perplexed.
“Ugh.” I huff and pull the legs of my pants right side out and step into them. “If my friends know I stayed here, there’ll be questions. Questions I don’t feel like answering. Questions you should be wary of because they will be coming from your co-workers.” At least, those aresomeof my reasons. I leave out the one where, as much as I loved last night, I don’t want to get used to it. Because in my experience, all good things end.
True, my friends have helped me witness the power of true love (insert cheesy Hallmark trailer here), but that’sthem,and this isme.
And let me just remind myself how much older Vance is than me. Which doesn’t matter in the sack, ’cause all those life experience skills havereallypaid off. But his age does mean he’s established in life. He already had his quarter life crisis. He not only figured out what he wanted to do, he became the best at it and then flew into space for it. He’s a high-profile person due to all his career accomplishments. Not like me—a benefactor of someone else’s success.
He’s also surrounded by people,women, just like him. People like Jules and Jackie.
Which is fine. Great, even. I love Jules and Jackie. But I’m not them.
I’m well aware of what I am. I’m the good time. The laughs. The remember-when girl.
I’m cool with that. It got me this far. But now I should be more.Domore.
I jump up and down to shift my weight into the tight denim. Fuck, skinny jeans are the worst.
Vance apparently doesn’t think so because his eyes are on my bouncing boobs, all but drooling.
I roll my eyes at him and find my shirt on the bureau.
Vance’s big brain must finally kick into gear because he gets out of bed and walks to my side as I tug on my shirt.
