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“Oh,” he says, his face falling. “Yeah, okay.”
“Plus, the car rental place is like ten blocks away, right? And don’t you need to return the car before end of day?”
He nods, his eyes studying my face.
“So… Thanks for a great afternoon. I had a ton of fun. And your mom is pretty great.”
He smiles as he parks the car on the side of the road, angry cab drivers cursing at him. “Yeah, thanks for coming. After having a promising start, you turned out to be a lousy buffer, but good company just the same.” He laughs gently, his whole body turned in my direction.
There’s a moment of silence that passes between us as we stare at each other. I wonder if I should ask whether he plans on giving me my panties back. Or whether he has plans of us doing this again. I want him to ask whether he can come up because he wants to and not because I ask him to.
But when everything goes unsaid, I open the door and whisper a goodbye. I hear his low, but audible gasp in my ear the second my lips press to his cheek. For a moment there, I think he might reach out and keep me in the car, but nothing happens. So in a state of defeat and confusion, I get out of the car and head back to my apartment.
Ginger happily greets me at the door, jumping on my legs for—you guessed it—food.
“You’re not supposed to eat for another half hour,” I tell her, checking the time on my phone. “But I’ll feed you now since you’ve been alone all day.”
While she purrs on the kitchen counter, chowing down on her dinner, I reorganize the debris of clothing my panic storm left all over the apartment. My morning freakout over what I would wear today seems so long ago, it’s surreal. And a bit inconsequential given everything that happened at Will’s mom’s house, if you ask me.
I focus on folding my sweaters and pants, on hanging my dresses and putting my shoes away, getting lost in a Marie Kondo-level organizational manic episode just to get my mind off of Will and whatever happened. I also focus onnotopening the sketch he drew of me, choosing to leave it untouched on my kitchen counter. I’ll look at it when I’m ready. Someday.
It’s when I’m freshly out of the shower and in my bright pink slip that I hear a knock at the door. Not a buzzing in my intercom, but a knock.
Terrified my first floor neighbors have finally been found out by the FBI and need a place to hide, I tiptoe to the peephole only to find a panting Will, both hands on either side of the door frame.
“Will?” I ask, opening the door. “How did you get up here?”
“Came in just as one of your neighbors was leaving.”
“Oh. What are you doing here?”
He swallows once, his dark eyes locked on mine with a fire I feel down to my bones. They travel up and down my body, taking in every contour, every exposed freckle—and there’s a lot to see, since the slip isn’t exactly made for modesty.
“I’m here,” he says, voice deep and gravelly, “because of what happened earlier, obviously. I’m here because of these.” He takes my underwear from his pocket and holds them between us, dangling them between us with his index finger. The friendship bracelet I made for him is still on his wrist, right where mine is, too. “And I’m here to figure out what happened. Because in the moment, it felt like you enjoyed it.” He closes his eyes as if struggling to keep himself in the present, only to open them again with a feral expression. “Really fucking enjoyed it. But then you wouldn’t speak to me. Which, I mean, I get. Because previously we had agreed upon never doing anything like that again. But then I don’t know how things escalated—it was my fault, obviously—you didn’t ask me to crawl on top of you.” My cheeks blaze fire engine red at the memory of how he looked prowling toward me, the weight of his body on me. “And thenthathappened. But you didn’t stop me. And I didn’t even think to stop myself. So now I’m caught between thinking I’m either this fucking asshole who practically attacked you because he can’t stop thinking about you or…”
“Or?”
“Or you were into it, too.”
I watch him for a moment, measuring what to say. “You can’t stop thinking about me?”
Will huffs out a laugh. “Bridget.”
And I know we should probably, for the sake of our friendship, discuss what happened and what we would like to happen at length. But I decide to give up on maintaining rational thought or reasoning and simply whisper, “I wasveryinto it,” before taking him by the hand, pulling him into my apartment, and closing the door behind us.
He places his hands on my hips, fingers digging into my skin through the delicate fabric of my slip. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to see you come again since the second you came down from your orgasm that first night. And today was fucking surreal.”
I drag my hands up his arms, feeling his muscular biceps as I go, reveling in this moment. “You didn’t get to finish today,” I say with a pout. “Maybe we can fix that.”
He smirks before kissing me intensely, letting me walk him backwards toward my bed. I push him into a sitting position onto the mattress, mentally thanking myself for putting away all my clothes before his arrival. This would be difficult to do on top of a mountain of dresses and skirts.
I stand between his spread legs looking down at him as he grazes his fingers up the backs of my thighs, my core tightening with every millimeter he touches. By the time he reaches my fresh set of underwear, I’m breathing heavily, folding over him as I wrap his head in my arms, my hair falling forward over his back like a crimson curtain.
His fingers move to the front, trailing over my wetness to stop right above my already swollen clit. When he begins circling it over the cotton, I take ahold of his wrist to stop his movements. I bend down and press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. He attempts to deepen it, tongue playing at the seams, but I pull away.
“You were so good to me today, Will. So good. and I want to be so good for you, too. This one’s all you,” I breathe against his mouth. “Not me.”
Without breaking eye contact, I get to my knees in front of him and unzip his pants. Together, we push them down to his ankles, leaving his underwear on. I tilt my head back and stretch to kiss him as one of my hands pulls him from his underwear. When I begin to nip and lick at his lips, my fingers wrap around his hard cock. I balance myself with one hand on his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of holding him in my hand, the power exchange happening right now. I’m on my knees, but he’s at my mercy, and I feel it even more when, on an upstroke, my thumb touches the tip of his cock, and he almost whimpers.
