Nicole
He's making enough noise to wake a bear. No one could sleep through that. How stupid does he think I am?
I can feel the bed shift as he slides out from the comforter. I hear him shuffling around the room looking for his clothes.
He's literally on his hands and knees fumbling his way through my dark bedroom. I stifle a laugh. I mean, he nearly knocks over my nightstand. How clumsy can one man be?
And even my cat seems to be annoyed with him.
For a moment, I think about saying something. Letting him know that I'm awake. Maybe even flipping the light on so he can find his things.
But if he's the kind of man who thinks it's okay to slip off after getting me in bed with him without so much as saying a good bye, or a thank you for a good night, then as far as I'm concerned, he doesn't deserve to leave here easy.
Besides, it doesn't matter. Not really.
Even if I did say something, I'm sure he'd rattle off some fake nicety, and give me some bullshit excuse as to why he has to leave here in a big hurry. He would probably say something along the lines of, It isn't you, it's me.
I'll let him think he's slipping out of here undetected, if that's what he wants. So I lie there, pretending to be asleep.
Which feels like both the dumbest and smartest choice I've ever made… all at the same time.
Then I hear him say something under his breath.
"It's a shame,” he whispers.
My mind reels. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Is it a shame he's leaving? Is he considering getting back into this bed?
Or is he ashamed for coming here in the first place and being with me?
As I listen to him leave, and hear the front door click open and then shut behind him, the silence of his absence weighs heavy on me.
There's no more wondering. He's gone, and he didn't bother sticking around.
The silence is definitive.
Why the hell did I sleep with an asshole like Palmer? I'm mentally kicking myself for being so weak.
Although if I'm being honest, there really is something about him that's magnetic. I'm drawn to him like ice cream is to cake, or like a strawberry is to chocolate.
When he's around, it's like the most natural thing in the world, and even though there's a small voice in the back of my mind that throws warnings and alarm bells, my body moves toward him without hesitation. I even cooked him my grandmother's secret recipe!
I slap my hand down on the mattress in frustration, bunching the bed sheets beneath me. It's clear that he's an asshole…but he's a hot asshole, and I've just had the best sex of my life.
Well, the first and only one, too, but I’m sure that sex isn’t always that…amazing.
That chiseled body. Those eyes. That smile. And those hands.
I feel my pulse flutter just thinking about him, and I grow wet.
He was a god in bed, he really was. I can feel my pussy begin to tingle as I think about how amazing sex was with Palmer—the way he moved with purpose, without hesitation, and how confident and calculated he was and how he just knew what he wanted—and what I wanted, too, for that matter.
Slowly, as is possessed, I part my legs under the bed sheets. I grab my breasts in my hands, and pinch my nipples between my fingers.
This immediately sends my body into overdrive, and I close my eyes and part my mouth, letting out an involuntary sigh.
I picture Palmer touching my breasts, not me. I imagine it's his strong hands grabbing my nipples, and kneading the soft flesh as if it were something prized.
I slowly move my hands down lower and lower, across my abdomen, and hover just above my pelvic bone before making the plunge even deeper.
I can’t believe I'm doing this. One minute I'm thinking about how much I regret sleeping with an asshole like Palmer, and then next I'm fantasizing about him.
Screw it, I think to myself as I spread my legs further. A little fantasizing never hurt anyone.
My mind focuses on Palmer's body.
Biting down on my lower lip, I slide my hand down between my thighs, pressing the tip of my fingers against my pussy. I stifle a moan, and then decide to go all the way; I slide my hand further and then press down on my clit.
Pleasure electrifies my nerve endings all at once, and my eyes roll back as I imagine Palmer back here in my bed, that mysterious smile dancing on his lips. I’d cook him a hundred more secret recipes just for him to be really here again.
I’d just reach for his cock, feeling it harden against my eager fingers…
Oh, God, I can’t stop myself now. I slide my fingers in my wet pussy and, parting my inner lips, slide my middle finger inside. I curl it upward like a hook, driving it all the way in and only stopping when I find my G-spot.
I press hard against it while I use my thumb to stroke my clit. I close my eyes as my brain starts to hum with an electricity all its own.
I imagine the chiseled chest that Palmer hides under his tailored suits and fancy chef coats, and how I'd like to explore the ridges of his abs with my tongue… and with my tongue on his abs, how I'd explore further down between his legs.
I can already imagine his enormous cock sliding in and out of me, taking my pussy…
“Oh, God,” I moan, my quivering voice echoing throughout the darkness of my apartment as I start moving my hand faster.
I slide one more finger inside my pussy and start flicking my wrist fast, my fingers moving in and out of me at a furious pace. I pretend they’re his cock, stretching me wide and driving me insane with a newfound hunger.
I arch my back, moaning loud enough for my cat to dart off—Whiskers must think I've lost my mind, but I don't care. This is too good.
I take my free hand to my breasts, squeezing them eagerly. Images of Palmer's naked body flash behind my eyes. I shut them tight, and a burning need to feel his body on mine consumes me.
In this moment, it's the only thing that matters.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan, my inner walls tightening around my fingers, and without warning, I begin moaning through grit teeth as a sudden spasm takes over my body. Every muscle fiber inside me begins to twitch erratically, and I have no choice but to ride the wave over.
When everything subsides and I'm able to open my eyes, I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling.
Finally, my mind has cleared, and I decide: Having Palmer in my bed tonight was fun, but it was also a mistake.
He's a much better fantasy than he is a reality.