The first thing I’m gonna do when I win the lottery is hire someone to do my laundry. I mean, how much detergent goes into this shit? I hear the door open and assume it’s Trevor. That or someone else feels comfortable walking in Gran’s house. Do ax-murderers knock? Seeing Trever storm down the hallway, I feel a bit relieved.

I live to see another day.

“Look who the cat dragged—whoa!”

He’s behind me, trapping my body between him and the dryer.

“I need to fuck you.”

Oookay then. He thrusts against me, and I throw my hands onto the dryer for support. His hands wrap around my yoga pants, tugging at them. My tummy starts to swirl with excitement. I’m all for hot, spontaneous sex, so I allow him to undress me—more like tear my clothes off.

“Hey, don’t tear the goods, I only have two pairs,” I joke.

He has my pants down, jerking at my underwear. “I’ll buy you more.”

I love sex with Trevor. He’s going to destroy sex with any future guy for me. Because let’s face it, his dick is top notch. But something seems off with him. I’m quickly learning his moods. He’s mumbling, which I’m sure he doesn’t realize, spitting out equations that would put Einstein to shame—a sign I know he’s trying to compress something.

He tears my panties down, then pulls one hand away to release himself from his pants, aligns himself, and with two hands back around my hips, he slams inside. “Oh shit,” I moan. He feels so much bigger from behind. My legs almost buckle, but he holds me up, pulling out and slamming back in. My grip tightens on the dryer, holding myself in place, but it’s impossible. He’s on a mission.

“I need all of you right now,” he grunts, fucking me like a madman. In and out, he pounds into me. He’s so deep. Maybe it’s the position, or the valiant effort he’s making, but it’s as if he’s willing to break me just to get even deeper.

This isn’t like our normal sex. It’s more aggressive. Not that I’m complaining. I’m about to have an orgasm that’s surely gonna blind me. I moan, and cuss, begging for him to fuck me harder. And he does. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m going to come. Fuck, I’m going to come… “Fuck, Trevor, I’m cooooming…” I almost bite my tongue off. My walls squeeze down so tight, I may have cut off the circulation to his dick. He’s nearing his climax too. Trevor takes complete control slamming my ass into him, fucking me, one, two, and on the third thrust, I feel him buckle. The growl…God, it’s so hot as he orgasms.

I try to catch my breath as I fall onto the dryer, thankful for the flat surface. It was that or tumbling face-first to the ground. Trevor breathes heavily behind me, no doubt trying to talk his heart out of evicting itself from his chest.

“I think we just moved the dryer five feet forward,” I sigh.

He doesn’t respond.

I lift my head to look back, making sure he’s still alive. What just happened would kill a lesser man. “Hey, you still with me?” He still doesn’t speak, but presses his lips to my shoulder, kissing behind my ear, my neck. I’m now positive something’s up. I just don’t know if it’s safe to ask. At least he stopped counting.

I wish I could help ease his mind, give him some relief from all the commotion in his head. A part of me feels like what just happened was his way of getting that. Kind of a win-win for us both. But over the past couple days, he’s become more than just a neighborly hook up for me. And as much as I want to deny it, the gooey feels are starting to build.

“Man, tacos sound good right now, don’t they? Guacamole, ground beef, chips. Lots of chips.”

He squeezes me and chuckles in my ear. “I love tacos.”

* * *

We’re on the back deck, Trevor sitting on the lawn chair, me curled up in his lap. We just got done devouring a mound of tacos and I’m trying not to barf at how full I am. Trevor’s mood has changed. We got cleaned up and walked down to the local grocery mart for supplies to make tacos. He grabbed a billion more things like cereal, lunch meat, and every day stuff that would taste horrible in tacos, then insisted on paying the bill. Now, with a full fridge and a fuller belly, we’re quietly enjoying the evening sounds of the ocean.

“Hey, Trev?”

“Yeah,” he responds, kissing the top of my head.

“What’s with the sandals?” He sighs. “I mean, it’s hot. You seem to pull off anything, but I never see you in dress shoes.”

He presses another kiss to my head. “From the age of twelve to eighteen, I lived on the streets. As I said before, my mother hated me. She saw me as a freak, so she took me to the beach one day and left me there. The only things I had were the clothes on my back. When she left, she didn’t even make sure I had shoes on.” Jesus, what a bitch. “I spent years on the beach. Living off things tourists would forget and leave behind. I barely ever wore shoes. But it was freeing for me. I got so used to always feeling the sand beneath my toes. Being that way for so long, once I was able to afford the finest pair of shoes, I hated it. It stressed me out. My counting would get worse. I became agitated anytime I had to enclose my feet. Sandals allow me to feel free. It’s what works since walking barefoot into work isn’t an option.”

I pull away and turn so I can get a good look at him. “I’m sorry that was your life."

He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Don’t be. It’s in the past.” I want to argue and call his bluff. The way he suffers is very much in the present. He fights this battle daily. I see it. I watch him struggle. I want to say I’ve helped take his mind away from the madness, but it's still there.

“Why the sad face?”

“I just feel horrible that someone would do that to such a wonderful person. I don’t know how you go through what you do. I can barely count the fingers on both of my hands. But I think you’re pretty darn great. And I kinda like you, so I just want happiness for you.”

God, that sounded cheesy—

His lips claim mine and he kisses me. Like kisssses me. His hands are around my face, pulling me into him, his lips devouring mine. It’s not our norm of mauling at each other. It’s slow. He opens my mouth with his tongue, and I invite him inside, allowing them to dance around one another. He doesn’t take the kiss any farther, but he’s giving me more than what the rest of our bodies could offer. I think, which is just a guess, he’s telling me he kinda likes me too.