One Cruel Night

Oh god, his bed.

I was still in his bed.

And he was not in his bed.

The things we had done in his bed.

I shook my head to try to dispel the series of images that floated to the surface. His hands gripping my hips, his tongue on my clit, my hands running through his hair, the yells for more, him giving me more, more, more. I closed my eyes. Had that really been me?

Who even knew that I was that much of a sexual animal?

It wasn’t like I hadn’t been interested in having sex before this. I’d always wanted to, but despite dating several people, I’d never felt attracted or into anyone enough to go through with it. But last night…I’d been eager. Not just eager, I’d asked and had seconds…and thirds.

And now, he wasn’t in his room. Of course, there was probably a perfectly normal explanation for that. Maybe he was writing in his notebook, which was missing from the nightstand. Maybe he’d gotten up before me and decided not to wake me. Lots of reasons.

Still, my stomach turned as the what-ifs piled up in my mind.

With confidence I didn’t feel, I threw the sheet off my very naked body and went in search of my clothes. My thong was crumpled on the floor where Penn had bitten it off last night. I pulled it back on, my cheeks flaming at the memory. My dress was discarded near his desk. I had no recollection of how it had gotten there. The last thing I remembered was him sliding it off my shoulders. Last night was a wonderful, glorious blur.

And, now, the blur was a dull ache in my very, very sore vagina. Holy Jesus, no one had ever mentioned how much it would hurt the next day after getting ridden into next Tuesday. Or maybe…none of my friends had ever had this problem. And by friends, I mostly meant Amy.

Shit, Amy.

I hastily pulled my dress back on and then located my purse, which was on top of a stack of papers on his desk. No idea how that had gotten there either. I reached inside and removed my phone, which had roughly a million text messages. And the time…noon.

Fuck! How had I slept until noon? I never slept in. I had my dad’s internal alarm clock from years in the military.

We were leaving the city today, and I still needed to pack. God, she was going to kill me.

I quickly jotted out a text that I wasn’t dead and would be back soon.

To which I had an immediate response that said, Tell me everything, and a GIF of a girl wagging her eyebrows up and down.

I giggled and then pocketed the phone again.

Now, the problem of Penn. Did I just stroll out there? Did I say anything? Were we supposed to get breakfast?

My inexperience was glaringly obvious in this scenario. I’d seen enough romcoms to know what to expect, but at the same time, I had no idea.

I couldn’t stay in here all day and wait for him to come find me. I needed to make my move. Maybe get his number and meet up with him again in New York. I wanted to kick myself. When would I be in New York? He didn’t know yet that I had no money. That I hadn’t even had an invite to that party and that Amy and I had totally crashed it. I was a nobody. And his family owned this insane flat in Paris that he’d been coming to since he was a kid. He’d taken backstage tours of the Paris opera house, and the chef was a family friend. Last night had been magical, but in the fresh light of day, we felt worlds apart.

I took a steadying breath. I could do this. Maybe our backgrounds wouldn’t even matter. Or maybe I could just say that I’d had the most amazing first time and then leave. Just throw that one out there.

Ugh! I wanted to scream with indecision. Where had all my confidence from last night gone? It was as if I’d lost it all in my sleep.

No, I could do this. Penn felt natural. We got each other on a base level. We could make this work, and even if we couldn’t, then I didn’t need to be shy around him. Lord knew I hadn’t been last night.

I nodded my head once, picked up my heels from the foot of the bed, and then strode from the room. I walked down the long hallway I remembered from the night before and into the living room. The empty living room.

I furrowed my brows.

“Penn?” I called softly as I padded through his flat.

I found the kitchen, which was also empty. A French press was the only thing out of place in the massive room. I turned around and headed back toward the living room. There were clearly a dozen rooms that Penn could be in. Maybe he had a library or an office? Maybe a balcony that he worked on?