have Alexa’s face imprinted in my mind, as I finally pull out of her, landing next to her in the puddle of sweat we’ve made together. “Fuck,” I whisper, “I… I don’t believe you. Goddamn, fuck, you’re so fucking good, Alexa.”
She doesn’t respond, except to smile, opening her eyes and watching the ceiling in a daze.
I’ve seen that look before: a woman fucked so good she’s not really registering what’s going on around her.
Yeah, I’m fucking good at what I do, I know that.
In the interests of being responsible, our first few words we exchange after orgasm is entirely administrative: I check in with her to see if she’s on the pill, and she says she is, so that’s okay. No Baby Jagger, not just yet.
Would it be so bad though? With her?
Goddamn, I’m thinking all sorts of silly thoughts just after I cum.
The way she’s relaxing in bed, smiling, barely there… that tells me I’ve done it right this time. So on the crazy off-chance that I hadn’t done it right originally, this will confirm it once and for all that I’m a great fuck.
I tell her to scoot over so I can spoon up against her for a little bit of pillow talk, while I wait for my cock to recover. Unlike last time, I’m not letting her go without me getting round two. Actually, since I’ve got the room… she can stay the damn night if she wants.
But, as if she’s already thinking that, her lips form a sentence I do not like hearing. “One and done.”
Not like she’s telling me. Like she’s kinda just reminding herself.
So I change the subject. “So… that story really got you to open your legs for me again, huh?”
Alexa laughs, rapidly returning to the scene. “I mean, I already did… you know, get off on the phone call. So you could say that it’s already done its work.”
“Goddamn right it did,” I grin.
“Actually, you know what? That story struck me as a little pointed. I wouldn’t call it a love story.”
I’m curious why she thinks that. “What are you talking about? It’s all about love.”
“For him, maybe. But if it was love, you know, the real deal… she wouldn’t have disappeared on him,” this gorgeous girl contends.
I make a face. “Eh,” I say. “It’s about love. She kept coming back, after all. And she did say she was going to decide if she believed in love — which, at the end, she did.”
“Oh God, look at us,” Alexa laughs abruptly. “Discussing a story you popped in your head one night because you were horny, as if it’s a Scorsese movie.”
“Goddamn,” I join in the laughter. “Don’t put my story down like that. I mean, what did you expect, I’d tell you the plot of The Notebook?”
She looks at me. “Have you read it?”
“Naw, I don’t think that’s really my style.”
Alexa goes silent for a while. I just relax, wrapping my arms around her in a gentle but secure way. Don’t want her feeling trapped. But don’t want her feeling like I’m going all sensitive on her, either.
She eventually turns around to face me. “Maybe it was a love story. Maybe I need to mull on it a little bit more.”
“It’s just a story,” I shrug.
“Well… when you put it that way, you make it sound like it’s meaningless, which it isn’t. It’s definitely got something to it. Hey, you know… let’s make that your next challenge. Call me when you’ve figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
She hops off from the bed, somehow managing to evade my grip. “When you figure out if it’s a love story you want.”
I’m speechless as she dresses. “Wait a sec. Round two?”
“This was round two, Jagger,” she says, with a definitive edge to her words.
“Fine. Round three, then. Night’s still young, gorgeous,” I attempt to persuade her.
She smiles at me instead, slipping her bra on, then her dress, as I continue to just stare at her from bed, propping myself up a little with my elbows. “I mean, you know the rules. No reason for me to stay after we’ve had… you know, we’ve done our thing.”
I was a hundred percent sure I had rocked her world tonight. To see her leaving is honestly throwing me off a little. I slowly decide to agree with her, as my mouth starts to dry. “One and done, two and, uh, won.”
My cock is hardening ferociously so, lying back in bed to watch her leave means I have to look at her past my full-mast cock. It’s in the way, like the sights on a rifle.
Alexa slips me a soft, “bye,” as she slides out of the door, which I don’t even completely register. Now I’m the one in a daze.
A minute passes after she leaves, and I find myself expecting — shit, maybe hoping — that she’d come back.
Why? Why does it matter to me so much?
“Goddamn fuck,” I grunt. I realize the truth. I want to see her again.
I want to keep seeing her. I’m like a fucking junkie. This will not do.